20317	----	Transcriber's notes: Some minor typographical errors have been corrected. The author's spelling has been retained. A TREATISE ON STAFF MAKING AND PIVOTING CONTAINING COMPLETE DIRECTIONS FOR MAKING AND FITTING NEW STAFFS FROM THE RAW MATERIAL EUGENE E. HALL WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS CHICAGO: HAZLITT & WALKER, PUBLISHERS 1910 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. The raw material. The gravers. The roughing out. The hardening and tempering 5 CHAPTER II. Kinds of pivots. Their shape. Capillarity. The requirements of a good pivot 13 CHAPTER III. The proper measurements and how obtained 19 CHAPTER IV. The gauging of holes. The side shake. The position of the graver 23 CHAPTER V. The grinding and polishing. The reversal of the work. The wax chuck 29 CHAPTER VI. Another wax chuck. The centering of the work 35 CHAPTER VII. The finishing of the staff. Pivoting. Making pivot drills. Hardening drills. The drilling and fitting of new pivots 39 STAFF MAKING AND PIVOTING. CHAPTER I. To produce a good balance staff requires more skill than to produce any other turned portion of a watch, and your success will depend not alone on your knowledge of its proper shape and measurements, nor the tools at your command, but rather upon your skill with the graver and your success in hardening and tempering. There are many points worthy of consideration in the making of a balance staff that are too often neglected. I have seen staffs that were models as regards execution and finish, that were nearly worthless from a practical standpoint, simply because the maker had devoted all his time and energy to the execution of a beautiful piece of lathe work, and had given no thought or study to the form and size of the pivots. On the other hand, one often sees staffs whose pivots are faultless in shape, but the execution and finish so bungling as to offset all the good qualities as regards shape. To have good tools and the right ideas is one thing, and to use these tools properly and make a practical demonstration of your theory is another. I shall endeavor to take up every point in connection with the balance staff, from the steel to the jewels, and their relation to the pivots, and I believe this will then convey to the reader all the necessary points, not only as regards staffs, but pivots also, whether applied to a balance or a pinion staff. It may be argued, and we often do hear material dealers advance the theory, that to-day, with our interchangeable parts and the cheapness of all material, it is a waste of time to make a balance staff. To the reader who takes this view of the situation I simply want to say, kindly follow me to the end of this paragraph, and if you are still of the same opinion, then you are wasting your time in following me farther. For a material dealer to advance this theory I can find some excuse; he is an interested party, and the selling of material is his bread and butter; but the other fellow, well I never could understand him and possibly never shall. When we seriously consider the various styles and series in "old model" and "new model," of only one of the leading manufacturers of watches in this country, to say nothing of the legion of small and large concerns who are manufacturing or have manufactured in the past, and then think of carrying these staffs in stock, all ready for use, we then begin to realize how utterly absurd the idea is, to say nothing of how expensive! On the other hand, if you reside in a large city and propose to rely on the stock of your material dealer, you will find yourself in an embarrasing situation very often, for as likely as not the movement requiring a new staff was made by a company that went out of business back in the '80s, or it is a new movement, the material for which has not yet been placed on the market. This state of affairs leads to makeshifts, and they in turn lead to botch work. The watchmaker who does not possess the experience or necessary qualifications to make a new balance staff and make it in a neat and workmanlike manner, is never certain of having exactly what is needed, and cannot hope to long retain the confidence of his customers. In fact, he is not a watchmaker at all, but simply an apprentice or student, even though he be working for a salary or be his own master. There are undoubtedly many worthy members of the trade, who are not familiar with the making of a balance staff, who will take exceptions to this statement; but it is nevertheless true. They may be good workmen as far as they go; they may be painstaking; but they cannot be classed as watchmakers. This article is intended for the benefit of that large class whose opportunities for obtaining instruction are limited, and who are ready and willing to learn, and for that still larger class of practical workmen who can make a new staff in a creditable manner, but who are always glad to read others people's ideas on any subject connected with the trade and who are not yet too old to learn new tricks should they find any such. [Illustration: _Fig. 1._] Good tools, in good condition, are the most essential requisites in making a new staff. I would not advise any particular make of lathe, as the most expensive lathe in the world will not produce a true staff if the workman cannot center his work accurately and does not know how to handle his graver, while on the other hand fine work can be done on the simplest and cheapest lathe by a workman possessing the requisite skill. I will take it for granted that you use an American-made lathe of some kind, or a foreign-made lathe manufactured on American lines. It is advisable, though not absolutely necessary, to have three gravers similar to those illustrated in Fig. 1, A being used for turning the staff down in the rough; B for the conical pivots and square shoulders and C for the under-cutting. The other tools and attachments needed will be described as I come to them in use. The balance staff should be made of the best steel, tempered to such a degree as to give the longest service and yet not so hard as to endanger the breakage of the pivots. Select a piece of Stubb's steel wire, say No. 46, or a little larger than the largest part of the finished staff is to be, and center it in a split chuck of your lathe. Be careful in selecting your chuck that you pick one that fits the wire fairly close. The chuck holds the work truest that comes the nearest to fitting it. If you try to use a chuck that is too large or too small for the work, you will only ruin the chuck for truth. Turn the wire to the form of a rough staff, as shown in Fig. 2, leaving on a small part of the original wire, as shown at A. After the wire is roughed out to this general form, remove from the chuck and get ready to harden and temper it. The hardening and tempering may be effected in various ways, and I am scarcely prepared to say which method is the best, as there are several which give about the same general results. One method of hardening is to smear the blank with common yellow soap, heat it to a cherry red, and drop endwise into linseed oil. Petroleum is preferred by some to linseed oil, but, to tell the truth, I can see no difference in the action of linseed, petroleum or olive oil. Be sure and have enough oil to thoroughly cool the blank, and a deep vessel, such as a large-mouthed vial, is preferable to a saucer. The blank will now be found too hard to work easily with the graver, and we must therefore draw the temper down to that of fine spring steel. Before doing this the blank should be brightened, in order that we may see to just what color we are drawing it. The main object in using the soap in hardening is that it may form a scale upon the blank, and if the heating is effected gradually the soap will melt and form a practically air-tight case around the blank. This scale, if the hardening is carefully and properly done, will generally chip and fall off when the blank is plunged in the oil, particularly if the oil is cool, and if it does not fall off of its own accord, it can easily be removed by rolling the blank upon the bench. If it does not come out clean, or if soap is not used, it may be brightened by again inserting in the lathe and bringing it in contact with a piece of fine emery paper or cloth. [Illustration: _Fig. 2._] I draw the temper in the following manner: Place some fine brass filings in a boiling-out cup or bluing pan and lay the blank upon these filings, holding the pan over the flame of an alcohol lamp until the blank assumes a dark purple color, which it will reach when the heat gets to about 500° F. This I consider the right hardness for a balance staff, as it is not too hard to work well under the graver nor too soft for the pivots. At this degree of hardness steel will assume an exquisite polish if properly treated. Another method of tempering is to place the staff on a piece of sheet iron or copper (say 1 inch wide by 4 long), having previously bent it into a small angle, for the reception of the staff, as shown in Fig. 3. This piece of metal, when nicely fitted into a file handle, will answer all the purposes of the bluing pan and presents quite a neat appearance. Having placed the blank in the angle, lay on it a piece of yellow wax about the size of a bean, and heat it over your lamp until the wax takes fire and burns. Blow out the flame and allow the staff to cool, and it will be found to be of about the right hardness. [Illustration: _Fig. 3._] We have now arrived at an important station in staff making, a junction, we may term it, where many lines branch off from the main road. At this particular spot is where authorities differ. I have no hesitation in saying that at this particular point the split chuck should be removed from the lathe head and carefully placed in the chuck box and the cement chuck put in its place. I believe that all of the remaining work upon a staff should be executed while it is held in a cement chuck. On the other hand I have seen good workmen who turned and finished all the lower part of a staff while in a split chuck, cut it off and turned and finished the upper part in a cement chuck. All I have got to say is that they had more confidence in the truth of their chucks than I have in mine. I have even read of watchmakers who made the entire staff in a split chuck, but I must confess I am somewhat curious to examine a staff made in that way, and must have the privilege of examining it before I will admit that a true staff can be so made. We will suppose that the workman has a moderately true chuck, and that he prefers to turn and finish all the lower portions in this way. Of course the directions for using a cement chuck on the upper part of a staff are equally applicable to the lower. Before going further I think it advisable to consider the requirements of a pivot, but will reserve this for another chapter. CHAPTER II. The chief requirements of a pivot are that it shall be round and well polished. Avoid the burnish file at all hazards; it will not leave the pivot round, for the pressure is unequal at various points in the revolution. A pivot that was not perfectly round might act fairly well in a jewel hole that was round, but unfortunately the greater proportion of jewel holes are not as they should be, and we must therefore take every precaution to guard against untrue pivots. Let us examine just what the effect will be if an imperfect pivot is fitted into an unround hole jewel, and to demonstrate its action more clearly let us exaggerate the defects. Suppose we pick a perfectly round jewel and insert into the opening a three-cornered piece of steel wire, in shape somewhat resembling the taper of a triangular file. We find that this triangular piece of steel will turn in the jewel with the same ease that the most perfect cylindrical pivot will. Now suppose we change the jewel for one that is out of round and repeat the experiment. We now find that the triangular steel soon finds the hollow spots in the jewel hole and comes to a stand-still as it is inserted in the hole. The action of a pivot that is not true, when in contact with a jewel whose hole is out of round, is very similar, though in a less marked degree. If the pivot inclines toward the elliptical and the jewel hole has a like failing, which is often the case, it is very evident that this want of truth in both the pivot and hole is very detrimental to the good going of a watch. [Illustration: _Fig. 4._] [Illustration: _Fig. 5._] There are two kinds of pivots, known respectively as straight and conical pivots, but for the balance staff there is but one kind and that is the conical, which is illustrated in Fig. 4. The conical pivot has at least one advantage over the straight one, _i. e._, it can be made much smaller than a straight pivot, as it is much stronger in proportion, owing to its shape. All pivots have a tendency to draw the oil away from the jewels, and particularly the conically formed variety, which develops a strong capillary attraction. To prevent this capillary attraction of the oil, the back-slope is formed next to the shoulder, although many persons seem to think that this back-slope is merely added by way of ornament, to make the pivot more graceful in appearance. It is very essential, however, for if too much oil is applied the staff would certainly draw it away if its thickness were not reduced, by means of the back-slope. Before leaving the subject of capillarity let us examine the enlarged jewel in Fig. 5; _c_ is an enlarged pivot, _b_ is the hole jewel and _a_ is the end stone. We observe that the hole jewel on the side towards the end stone is convex. It is so made that through capillarity the oil is retained at the end of the pivot where it is most wanted. It is, in my opinion, very necessary that the young watchmaker should have at least a fair understanding of capillarity, and should understand why the end stone is made convex and the pivot with a back slope. For this reason I will try and make clear this point before proceeding further. We all know that it is essential to apply oil to all surfaces coming in contact, in order to reduce the friction as much as possible, and if the application of oil is necessary to any part of the mechanism of a watch, that part is the pivot. Saunier very aptly puts it thus: "A liquid is subject to the action of three forces: gravity, adhesion (the mutual attraction between the liquid and the substance of the vessel containing it), and cohesion (the attractive force existing among the molecules of the liquid and opposing the subdivision of the mass.)" We all know that if we place a small drop of oil upon a piece of flat glass or steel and then invert the same the oil will cling to the glass, owing to the adhesion of the particles; if we then add a little more to the drop and again invert, it will still cling, although the drop may be elongated to a certain degree. This is owing to the cohesion of the molecules of the oil, which refuse to be separated from one another. If, however, we again add to the drop of oil and invert the plate the drop will elongate and finally part, one portion dropping while the other portion clings to the main body of the liquid. The fall of the drop is occasioned by gravity overcoming the cohesion of the molecules. Now take a perfectly clean and polished needle and place a drop of oil upon its point and we will see that the oil very rapidly ascends towards the thicker portion of the needle. Now if we heat and hammer out the point of the needle into the form of a small drill and repeat the operation we find that the oil no longer ascends. It rises from the point to the extreme width of the drill portion, but refuses to go beyond. It clings to that portion of the needle which would correspond to the ridge just back of the slope in a conical pivot. Water, oil, etc., when placed in a clean wine glass, do not exhibit a perfectly level surface, but raise at the edges as shown at _a_ in Fig. 6. If a tube is now inserted, we find that the liquid not only rises around the outside of the tube and the edges of the vessel, but also rises in the tube far beyond its mean level, as shown at _b_. These various effects are caused by one of the forces above described, _i. e._, the adhesion, or mutual attraction existing between the liquid and the substance of the vessel and rod. The word capillarity is of Latin derivation, and signifies hair-like slenderness. The smaller the tube, or the nearer the edges of a vessel are brought together, the higher in proportion will the liquid rise above the level. An ascent of a liquid, due to capillarity, also takes place, where the liquid is placed between two separate bodies, as oil placed between two pieces of flat glass. If the plates are parallel to one another and perpendicular to the surface of the liquid it will ascend to the same height between the plates, as shown at _c_ in Fig. 6. If the plates were united at the back like a book and spread somewhat at the front, the oil would ascend the higher as the two sides approach one another, as shown at _d_, Fig. 6. If a drop is placed somewhat away from the intersecting point, of the glasses, as shown at _m_ it will, if not too far away, gradually work its way to the junction, providing the glasses are level. If, however, the glasses are inclined to a certain extent, the drop will remain stationary, since it is drawn in one direction by gravity and in the other by capillarity. When a drop of oil is placed between two surfaces, both of which are convex, or one convex and the other plain, as shown at _g_, it will collect at the point _n_, at which the surfaces nearest approach one another. We now see very clearly why the hole jewel is made convex on the side towards the end-stone and concave on the side towards the pivot. [Illustration: _Fig. 6._] Particular pains should be taken to polish those portions of the pivots which actually enter the jewel hole and to see that all marks of the graver be thoroughly removed, because if any grooves, no matter how small, are left, they act as minute capillary tubes to convey the oil. If the hole jewel be of the proper shape, the end-stone not too far from the hole jewel and too much oil is not applied at one time, the oil will not spread nor run down the staff, but a small portion will be retained at the acting surface of pivot and jewel, and this supply will be gradually fed to these parts from the reservoir between the jewel and end-stone, by the action of capillarity. Having examined into the requirements of the pivot and its jewel and having gained an insight into what their forms should be, we are the better able to perform that portion of the work in an intelligent manner. CHAPTER III. Our wire has been roughed out into the form of a staff, has been hardened and the temper drawn down to the requisite hardness and we are now ready to proceed with our work. As I said before, we have now arrived at a point where many authorities differ, _i. e._, as to whether the finishing of the staff proper, should be performed while the work is held in the chuck, or whether a wax chuck be substituted. We will take it for granted that you have a true chuck and that you prefer to finish all the lower portion of the staff while held in the chuck. Before we proceed with our work it will be necessary for us to make some accurate measurements, as we cannot afford to do any guess work by measuring by means of the old staff. I have used a number of different kinds of calipers and measuring instruments for determining the various measurements for a balance staff, but have met with more success with a very simple little tool which I made myself from drawings and description published some years ago in THE AMERICAN JEWELER. This simple little tool is shown in Fig. 7, and has been of great service to me. It consists of a brass sleeve A, with a projection at one end as shown at B. This sleeve is threaded, and into it is fitted the screw part C, which terminates in a pivot D, which is small enough to enter the smallest jewel. The sleeve I made from a solid piece of brass, turning it down in my lathe and finishing the projection by means of a file. The hole was then drilled and threaded with a standard thread. The screw part C, I made of steel and polished carefully. [Illustration: _Fig. 7._] To ascertain the proper height for the roller, place it upon the tool, allowing it to rest upon the leg B, and set the pivot D in the foot jewel. Now adjust, by means of the screw C until the roller is in its proper position in relation to the lever fork. This may be understood better by consulting Fig. 8, where A is the gauge, C is the roller, E is the lever, F is the plate and G is the potance. [Illustration: _Fig. 8._] Now in order to locate the proper place to cut the seat for the roller, remove it from the foot of the gauge and apply the gauge to the work as shown in Fig. 9. The foot of the gauge resting against the end of the pivot, the taper end of the gauge will locate accurately the position of the roller seat. In order to locate the proper position for the seat for the balance, proceed the same as for the roller, except that the foot of the gauge is lowered until it is brought sufficiently below the plate to allow of the proper clearance as indicated by the dotted lines at H. Now apply the gauge to the new staff, as shown in Fig. 10, and the taper end will locate the exact position for the balance seat. [Illustration: _Fig. 9._] [Illustration: _Fig. 10._] As previously stated, I have taken it for granted that you preferred to finish all the lower portion of the staff while the work was held in the chuck. I have assumed that you prefer to work in this way because I have noted the fact that nine watchmakers out of every ten start with, and first finish up, the lower portion of the staff. Where this method of working originated I do not know, but it always has the appearance to me of "placing the cart before the horse." I do not pretend to say that a true staff cannot be made in this way, but it certainly is not the most convenient nor advisable. We all know that the heaviest part of the staff is from the roller seat to the end of the top pivot. Now it seems to me that it is the most natural thing in the world for a mechanic to desire to turn the greater bulk of his work before reversing it. Now if the workman has been educated to turn indifferently with right or left hand, it may make little difference, as far as the actual turning is concerned, whether he starts to work at the upper or lower end of the staff, but unfortunately there are few among us who are so skilled as to use the graver with equal facility with either hand, and it is therefore an advantage to start with the upper end, as you can thus finish a greater portion of the work more readily. You can readily see that when you come to reverse your staff and use the wax chuck, that by starting at the top of staff your wax has a much larger surface of metal to cling to, and again the shape of the balance seat is such as to secure the work firmly in the wax, while if the reverse method is employed, the larger portion of the balance seat is exposed and the staff is more liable to loosen from the motion of the lathe and pressure of the graver and polishers. CHAPTER IV. By the aid of the pinion calipers and the old staff, the diameter of the roller seat and the balance and hair-spring collet seats may be readily taken, but it is perhaps better to gauge the holes, as the old staff may not have been perfect in this respect. A round broach will answer admirably for this purpose, and the size may be taken from the broach by means of the calipers. In fitting our pivots, we can not be too exact; and as yet no instrument has been placed upon the market for this purpose which is moderate in price and yet thoroughly reliable. The majority of watchmakers use what is termed the pivot-gauge, a neat little instrument which accompanies the Jacot lathe, and which may be obtained from any material house. This tool, which is shown in Fig. 11, is, however, open to one objection in the measurement of pivots, and that is that it may be pressed down at one time with greater force than at another, and consequently will show a variation in two measurements of the same pivot. Some of my readers may think that I am over-particular on this point, and that the difference in measurement on two occasions is too trivial to be worthy of attention, but I do not think that too much care can be bestowed upon this part of the work, and neglect in this particular is, I think, the cause of poor performance in many otherwise good timepieces. The ordinarily accepted rule among watchmakers is that a pivot should be made 1/2500 of an inch smaller than the hole in the jewel to allow for the proper lubrication. I am acquainted with watchmakers, and men who are termed good workmen, too, who invariably allow 1/2500 of an inch side shake, no matter whether the pivot is 12/2500 or 16/2500 of an inch in diameter. Now if 1/2500 of an inch is the proper side shake for a pivot measuring 12/2500 of an inch in diameter, it is certainly not sufficient for a pivot which is one-third larger. Of course it is understood that side shakes do not increase in proportion according as the pivot increases in size, for if they did a six-inch shaft would require at this rate a side shake of 1/2 inch, or 1/4 inch on each side, which would be ridiculously out of all proportion, as the 1/64 of an inch would be ample under any circumstances. Neither can we arrive at the proper end shake for a pivot by reducing in proportion from the end shake allowed on a six-inch shaft, because if we followed out the same course of reasoning we would arrive at a point where a pivot measuring 12/2500 of an inch would require an end shake so infinitely small that it would require six figures to express the denominator of the fraction, and the most minute measuring instrument yet invented would be incapable of recording the measurement. We must leave sufficient side shake, however, on the smallest pivot and jewel for the globules of the oil to move freely, and experiments have shown conclusively that 1/2500 of an inch or 1/5000 on each side of the pivot, is as little space as it is desirable to leave for that purpose, as the globules of the best chronometer oil will refuse to enter spaces that are very much more minute. But to return to our pivot gauge. [Illustration: _Fig. 11._] [Illustration: _Fig. 12._] Each division on the gauge represents 1/2500 of an inch, which is all that we require. The diameter that the pivot should be, can be ascertained by inserting a round pivot broach into the jewel and taking the measurement with the pivot gauge, and then making the necessary deduction for side shake. Slip the jewel on the broach as far as it will go, as shown in Fig. 12, and then with the pivot gauge, take the size of the broach, as close up to the jewel as you can measure, and the taper of the broach will be about right for the side shake of the pivot. If, however, you prefer to make the measurement still more accurate, you can do so by dipping the broach into rouge before slipping on the jewel and then remove the jewel and the place which is occupied on the broach can be plainly discerned and the exact measurement taken and an allowance of 1/2500 of an inch made for the side shake. Another method, and one which is particularly applicable to Swiss watches, where the jewel is burnished into the cock or plate, is to first slip on to the broach a small flat piece of cork and as the broach enters the jewel the cork is forced farther on to the broach, and when the jewel is removed it marks the place on the broach which its inner side occupied, and the measurement can then be taken with the gauge. If care is used in the selection of a broach, that it be as nearly perfect in round and taper as possible, by a little experiment you can soon ascertain just what part of the length of the broach corresponds to one degree on the gauge and by a repetition of the experiment the broach can then be divided accurately, by very minute rings turned with a fine-pointed graver, into sections, each representing one degree, or 1/2500 of an inch, and the measurement will thus be simplified greatly. [Illustration: _Fig. 13._] As before stated, much depends upon the condition of your gravers and the manner of using them. It is of the utmost importance that they be kept sharp, and as soon as they begin to show the slightest sign of losing their keenness, you should sharpen them. The proper shape for balance pivots was shown in Fig. 4. Now let us examine into the best positions for holding the gravers. In Fig. 13 two ways of holding the graver are shown, _A_ representing the right and _B_ representing the wrong way. If the graver is applied to the work as shown at _A_, it will cut a clean shaving, while if applied as shown at _B_ it will simply scrape the side of the pivot and ruin the point of the graver without materially forwarding the work. Again, the holding of the graver as indicated at _A_ has its advantages, because the force of the cut is towards the hand holding it, and should it catch from any cause the jar of the obstruction will be conveyed immediately to the hand, and it will naturally give and no harm will be done. If, on the other hand, the graver should meet with an obstruction while held in the position indicated at _B_, the force of the cut will be in the direction of the arrow, downward and toward the rest, and the rest being unlike the hand, or rather being rigid, it cannot give, and the result is that the work, or graver, or both, are ruined. In Fig. 14 two other methods of holding the graver are shown. The general roughing out of a staff should be done with the graver held about as shown at _A_, Fig. 13; but in finishing, the graver should be held so that the cut is made diagonally, as indicated at _A_, Fig. 14. It is rather dificult to explain in print just how the graver should be held, but a little experiment will suffice to teach the proper position. The best indication that a graver is doing its work properly, is the fact that the chips come away in long spiral coils. Aim to see how light a cut you can make rather than how heavy. Never use force in removing the material, but depend entirely upon the keenness of the cutting edges. Never use the point of the graver, except where you are compelled to, but rather use the right or left hand cutting edges. By following out this rule you will find that your work, when left by the graver, requires little or no finishing up, except at the pivots. At _B_, Fig. 14, is shown the correct manner of applying the graver when turning a pivot. Hold the graver nearly on a line with the axis of the lathe and catching a chip at the extreme end of the pivot with the back edge of the graver, push slightly forward and at the same time roll the graver towards you and it will give the pivot the desired conical form. By keeping the graver on a line with the length of the pivot, all the force applied is simply exerted in the direction of the chuck, and does not tend to spring the pivot, as it would were the extreme point applied, as in Fig. 13. When we come to such places as the shoulder of the back slope, the seat for the roller, balance, etc., we must necessarily use the point of the graver. [Illustration: _Fig. 14._] CHAPTER V. In chapter IV I called attention to the right and wrong way of holding the graver while using the extreme point, and also the correct manner of applying the graver in turning conical pivots. I also called attention to the fact that it was well to only use the point of the graver where positively necessary, as in the back slope of the pivot, etc. In turning the seat for the balance, as indicated at A, Fig. 15, the graver A, Fig. 1, or a similar one as shown at B, Fig. 15, should be used. The slope at C should now be turned. In turning the pivot and seat for the roller, you should leave them slightly larger than required, to allow for the grinding and polishing which is to follow. No definite amount can be left for this purpose, because the amount left for polishing depends entirely on how smoothly your turning has been done. If it has been done indifferently, you may have to allow considerable for grinding and polishing before all the graver marks are removed, while, on the contrary, if the work has been performed with care, very little will have to be removed. Avoid the use of the pivot file by performing your work properly to start with. [Illustration: _Fig. 15._] [Illustration: _Fig. 16._] For grinding, bell-metal or soft iron slips are desirable, and the grinding is effected by means of oil stone powder and oil. Two slips of metal similar in shape to A and B, Fig. 16, are easily made, and will be found very useful. A is for square pivots, etc., while B is used for conical pivots. These slips should be dressed with a dead smooth file, the filing to be done crosswise, to hold the oil stone powder and oil. During the operation of grinding, the lathe should be run at a high speed and the slips applied to the work lightly, squarely and carefully. The polishing is effected by means of diamantine and alcohol. After the work is brought to a smooth gray surface, slips of boxwood of the shape shown in Fig. 16 should be substituted for the metal slips. Oil stone slips are sometimes used in lieu of metal ones, but they soon get out of shape and are troublesome to care for on this account. All things considered, there is nothing better for polishing than a slip or file made of agate, say one inch long, one-quarter inch wide and one-eighth inch thick. A slip of this kind can be obtained from any lapidary, and after grinding with emery and water until the surface has a very fine grain, it should be mounted by fastening with cement into a brass socket and this is then inserted into a small wooden handle, as shown in Fig. 17. The agate slip should be ground to about the shape of B, Fig. 16, so that one side can be used for square corners and the other for conical pivots. The final polish can soon be imparted by means of a small boxwood slip, or flattened peg-wood, and diamantine and alcohol. Never try to bring out the final polish until you are satisfied that all graver marks have been ground out, otherwise you will simply have to go all over the work again. [Illustration: _Fig. 17._] When the staff is finished from the lower pivot to the seat of the balance, the upper part should be roughed out nearly to size and then cut off preparatory to finishing the top part. Attention was previously called to the fact that the majority of watchmakers prefer to finish all the lower portion of the staff first, notwithstanding the fact that there are numerous advantages to be gained by proceeding to first finish up the upper portion. We have now reached the point where the wax chuck must be used, and perhaps these advantages may be now more clearly defined. In order that the two procedures may be more distinctly shown, illustrations of both methods are here given. Fig. 18 shows the popular method, the lower portion of the staff being all completed and fastened by means of wax, in the wax chuck. Fig. 19 shows the opposite course of procedure. In both illustrations the lines indicate the amount of wax applied to hold the work. It will be noted that in Fig. 18 the hub of the staff is enclosed in the wax very much as a cork is fitted into a bottle, while in Fig. 19 the hub is reversed, just as a cork would appear were the larger portion within the bottle and the smaller portion protruding through the neck. A study of the diagram will readily show that in Fig. 19 the staff is held more rigidly in place and that a greater bulk of the work is enclosed in the wax than in Fig. 18, although there is less wax used in the former than in the latter. [Illustration: _Fig. 18._] [Illustration: _Fig. 19._] Before proceeding to set the staff in the wax, it is necessary to make some measurements to determine its full length. Remove both cap jewels and screw the balance cock in place. Examine the cock and see if it has at any time been bent up or down or punched to raise or lower it. If so, rectify the error by straightening it and then put it in place. Now with a degree gauge, or calipers, proceed to take the distance between the outer surfaces of the hole jewels and shorten the staff to the required length. Do not remove too much, but leave the staff a little long rather than cut it too short, as the length can be shortened later. [Illustration: _Fig. 20._] [Illustration: _Fig. 21._] A very handy tool for the purpose of making these length measurements can be constructed by adding a stop screw to the common double calipers as shown in Fig. 20. The improvement consists in the fact that they can be opened to remove from the work and closed again at exactly the same place, so that an accurate measurement can be made. The all-important point in the use of wax chucks is to get a perfect center. If you are not careful you are liable to leave a small projection in the center as shown at A, Fig. 21. The ordinary wax chuck cannot be unscrewed from the spindle and restored to its proper place again with anything like a certainty of its being exactly true, and if you insist on doing this there is no remedy left but finding a new center each time. It will be found more satisfactory and economical in the long run to have a permanent chuck for a wax chuck and you will then have no necessity for removing the brass chuck. The center, or cone for the reception of the pivot, should be turned out with the graver at an angle of about 60° and such a graver as is shown at B, Fig. 1, will answer admirably for this purpose. After you have carefully centered your wax chuck, place a small alcohol lamp under the chuck and heat it until the wax will just become fluid and yet not be hot enough to burn the wax. Revolve the lathe slowly and insert the staff so that the pivot rests squarely and firmly in the center. Now re-heat the chuck carefully in order that the wax may adhere firmly to the staff, keeping the lathe revolving meanwhile, but not so fast that the wax will be drawn from the center, and at the same time apply the forefinger to the end of the staff, as shown in Figs. 18 and 19, and gently press it squarely into place in the wax chuck. The lines in Figs. 18 and 19 designate about the right amount of wax after the work is ready, but it is well to add a little more than is shown in those figures, and you should be careful to keep the wax of equal bulk all around, or when it cools it will have a tendency to draw the staff to one side. Now remove the lamp and keep the lathe revolving until the wax is quite cool, when it should be removed, by means of a graver, down to the dimensions designated by the lines in Figs. 18 and 19. When this is accomplished re-heat a little, but only enough to make it soft, but not liquid, and placing a sharpened peg-wood on the tool rest proceed to the final truing up, by resting the pointed end against the hub. CHAPTER VI. I have described above one of the methods in vogue for holding a staff by means of wax. It is the common method employed by most watch repairers, the popular method so to speak. The method which I am now about to describe may seem awkward at first to those who have not practiced it, but once you have fairly tried it, you will never be contented to work in any other way. The first requisite is a true taper chuck; and it is well to purchase an extra one to be used solely for this purpose, so that you will be prepared at all times for staff work. Select a good steel taper, and having placed your chuck in the lathe, see if your taper fits well by inserting it in the chuck while running slowly. If it fits well, it will be marked almost throughout its length. Insert again in the chuck, and with a few light taps of the hammer set it firmly in place, so that you know that there is no danger of its working loose. The taper will then project about three-quarters of an inch from the face of the chuck. By means of a sharp graver, make the face of the taper smooth and straight, and cut off the taper end. Now mark a point on the taper about one-fourth of an inch from the end, and proceed to turn down the diameter from this point to the end, leaving that portion of the taper about two-thirds of its original diameter, and finish with a nice square shoulder. Now with a long-pointed sharp graver proceed to cut a nice V-shaped center with an angle of about 60°. When you have proceeded thus far you will find that you have an implement resembling that shown in Fig. 22. [Illustration: _Fig. 22._] Care must be taken that the center is quite true, and that no projection is left like that illustrated in Fig. 21, no matter how minute it may be. Now examine the center by the aid of a strong glass, and after you are satisfied with its appearance proceed to test it. Take a large sized pin with a good point, and placing the point in the center, maintain it in position by pressing upon the head, and while revolving the lathe slowly proceed to examine by means of your glass. If the center is a good one there will be no perceptible vibration of the pin. Now procure a piece of small brass tubing with an internal diameter a little less than that of the turned down portion of your taper. If the brass tubing cannot be procured readily, you can substitute a piece of brass wire a little larger than the taper, and by means of a drill a little smaller in diameter than the turned down portion you can readily make a small tube about one-half inch long. Now by means of a broach proceed to open the tube to a point one-quarter inch from one end, and carefully fit it on the turned down portion of your taper. After fitting tightly to the shoulder of the taper, proceed to turn out the other end until it will take in the hub of your staff easily and leave a little room to spare. Now turn your tube down in length until a little of the hub is exposed either way you put the staff in. Turn the outside of the tube smooth and to correspond with the outline of the taper, so you will have a nice looking job when completed. Just below where the hub will come drill a small hole in the tube and remove all burr, both inside and out, that may have been made in drilling, so that the shellac or wax will not adhere to it. This little hole acts as an outlet for the air in the tube; and as the hot shellac enters at the end of the tube the air is expelled through this vent. It also helps to hold the cement firmly in place. Now try your staff in the tube again, and be sure that it is quite free, and that you will be able to work on the portions of it above and below the hub, according as one end or the other is inserted. You are now ready to insert your staff and proceed with your work. Hold your shellac in the flame of your lamp a moment until it is quite liquid, and then smear both the inside and outside of the tube with it. Heat the shell or tube gently by means of the lamp, keeping the lathe revolving slowly all the while, and taking the staff in your tweezers proceed to insert it carefully into the tube. Press firmly back, making sure that it has reached the bottom of the V-shaped center. Pack the cement well in around the staff, and while centering remove the lamp and allow the whole to cool, keeping the whole revolving until quite cool. Now remove the superfluous cement by means of the graver, and heating the tube again slightly, proceed to center exactly by means of a pointed peg-wood, resting on your T rest to steady it. Turn slowly in the lathe and examine with glass to see that it is quite true. Your completed instrument will resemble Fig. 23. [Illustration: _Fig. 23._] The advantage of the device is that your center is always ready, and all you have to do is to insert your chuck in the lathe, warm it, and you are ready to insert your staff and proceed to work. As I said in the first place, it is well to employ a taper chuck exclusively for this work, and not attempt to use it for any other, for if you try to remove your taper and replace it again, you will surely find that your work is out of center, and you will be compelled to remove the brass shell and find a new center each time you use it. You can avoid all this trouble, however, by purchasing an extra chuck and devoting it exclusively to wax work. Of course, the brass shell can be removed and placed in position again without in any way affecting the truth of the center, and any number, shape and size of shells can be made to fit the one taper, and these shells will be found very useful for holding a variety of work, aside from balance staffs. CHAPTER VII. The two popular methods of holding a balance staff in wax have been described and illustrated; the reader may take his choice. The turning and finishing of the other end of the staff is performed as previously described. That portion on which the hair-spring collet goes should be turned to nearly the proper size, making due allowance for the grinding and polishing that is to come. The balance seat should be slightly undercut, so that the balance can be driven on tightly and all riveting dispensed with. The size for the pivot can be determined from its jewel, as previously described. Finish the ends of the pivots flat and round the corners off slightly; and right here comes a point worthy of consideration in all watch work. Leave no absolutely square corners in any of your work, but round them off very slightly. This may seem a very little thing, but it is one of the small things that go to make up first-class work. You can judge pretty accurately of a watchmaker by the corners he leaves on his work, as well as by the appearance of his gravers and screw-drivers. When your staff is completed and nicely polished, remove from the wax and boil in alcohol to clean, and when dried it is ready for the balance. Great care must be exercised in removing the balance from the old staff, especially if it be a compensation balance, that you do not distort it any way. If the balance has been riveted on extra care will have to be exercised. The riveting may be cut by means of a graver, or a hollow drill made from Stubb's steel wire. The recess in the drill should just fit over the shoulder left for the reception of the hair-spring collet. The edge of the hollow drill has small teeth formed upon it similar to a fine file, and will cut quite rapidly. After removing the balance, if it appears to be sprung in the arms, the result of removal or previous bad treatment, proceed to bend them straight, and then to true up the rim carefully, and stake on with a flat end punch. Now put on your roller and drive it down to the hub and see that the roller is free from the fork. See that jewel pin reaches fork properly and that the guard pin also reaches the roller. See that your balance is free from the plate and the bridge. If the balance is true and all right, you are ready to put on your hair-spring. See that it is in beat. It is well to make a mark on the balance before taking off the old staff, showing positions of hair-spring stud and jewel pin. Three-quarter plate English lever and Swiss lever balance staffs differ only in detail, except that they are sprung under balances. The general operations for making, however, are similar to those described. I have not described the method of poising the balance for two reasons; first, the mere poising of a balance for a cheap movement is so simple that it needs no explanation; and second, to describe the poising of the balance of a fine watch is a lengthy task, and can hardly be included under the heading of staffing and pivoting. The ground has been thoroughly and conscientiously covered by Mr. J. L. Finn, in a little volume entitled Poising the Balance,[A] and I would advise all watchmakers, both young and old, to read what he has to say. Good pivoting is an art in itself, and although there are many who undertake to do this work, there are but few who can pivot a staff in such a manner that it will bear close inspection under the glass. We often hear watchmakers brag of the secrets they possess for hardening pivot drills, but I fancy they would be somewhat surprised if they traveled around a little, to find how many watchmakers harden their drills in exactly the same way that they do. The great secret, so-called, of making good drills, is to first secure good steel, and then use care to see that you do not burn it in the subsequent operations. The fewer times the steel is heated the better. My experience teaches me that you can do no better than to select some nice pieces of Stubb's steel for your pivot drills. Many watchmakers make their drills from sewing needles, say No. 3 or 4, sharps. The steel in these needles is usually of good quality, but the great drawback is that a drill made from a needle will not resist any great pressure, and is liable to break just at the time that you have arrived at the most important point. If your drill is made from a piece of Stubb's steel wire, or an old French or Swiss graver, you not only know that the material in it is first-class, but you can leave the base of the drill solid and substantial, with enough metal in it to resist considerable pressure. The part of the drill which actually enters the pivot is very short, and the end can be turned down to the desired diameter. Turn or reduce your wire by means of a pivot file so as to be smooth and conical, as shown at _A_, Fig. 24. The conical form is given to the drill for exactly the same reason that it is given to the balance pivots, because it gives additional strength. Heat to a very pale red for about one-half inch from the end, and then spread the point, as shown at _B_, Fig. 24, by a slight blow of the hammer. We are now ready to temper our drill, and we must exercise a little care that the steel is not burnt and that the drill is not bent or warped when hardening. The flame of the alcohol lamp should be reduced as small as possible, or otherwise the steel may become overheated and lose all its good qualities. If needles are used for making drills there is a great liability of their warping when hardening, but when a larger piece of wire is used there is not much danger, if care is exercised in introducing the drill that it goes into the compound straight and point foremost. If a needle is used, it is well to construct a shield for it, to be used when heating and hardening. This shield can be made from a small piece of metal tubing, broached out to fit loosely over the shank and point of the drill. The drill is introduced into this shield as shown in Fig. 25, and a little soap may be introduced into the end _a_ before plunging. Various hardening devices are used, but in my experience beeswax or sealing wax will be found as good as any. Heat the drill (or if a needle, the drill and shield both), to a pale red and plunge straight into the wax. In the latter case, where the shield is used, the shield, on striking the wax, will run up the shank of the drill, allowing the point to pierce the wax. Some watchmakers introduce the extreme point of the drill into mercury first and then plunge into the wax. This hardens the extreme point of the drill very hard, so hard, in fact, that it will penetrate the hardest steel, but care must be exercised with such a drill because the mercury makes it not only very hard but very brittle. _C_, Fig. 24, shows a drill after it has been finished on the Arkansas stone. This shape of drill will withstand the pressure necessary to drill into hard steel. Many watchmakers reduce the temper of every staff before drilling. This, I think, is quite unnecessary. There are very few cases in which it is necessary to reduce the temper of the staff, and even then it should only be reduced as far as it is to be drilled, and then not in excess of a good spring temper. [Illustration: _Fig. 24._] [Illustration: _Fig. 25._] The centering of a staff in wax has been thoroughly described and in pivoting the proceeding is the same as in staffing. After accurately centering your work, make a small cut in the center for the reception of the drill and make this mark deep enough to take the entire cutting head of the drill. Keep the drill firmly pressed into this center and kept wet constantly with turpentine. Do not revolve the work all one way, but give the lathe an alternating motion. At first give but a third or a half revolution each way, until the drill begins to bite into the staff, when you can then safely give it a full revolution each way. Care must be exercised, however, not to give the work too rapid a motion, for if you do the friction is apt to draw down the temper of your drill. Many watchmakers find that their drills cut well for a certain distance and then refuse to work altogether, and one of the chief reasons is that they are in too great a hurry with their drilling. If you find it absolutely necessary to reduce the hardness of your staff before drilling, do so by drilling a hole in the end of a small piece of copper wire that will just fit over the part to be softened, and apply the heat to this copper wire, say one-fourth of an inch from the staff. The heat will run down the copper wire and heat the staff just where you wish to draw the temper. Be careful and do not draw the temper too much, nor let it extend down the staff too far. The plug for the new pivot should be carefully made, perfectly round, with a very little taper, and should be draw-filed before being driven in. Some workmen dip the plug in acid before driving in, as they declare that the pivot is less liable to be loosened while turning, if so treated. The acid simply rusts the pivot and the hole, but I cannot see that this will hold it any more firmly in place while finishing. If the taper is a gradual one and the pivot a good close fit, there will be little danger of it loosening while dressing to shape. If too great a taper is given to the plug, there is danger of splitting the end of the staff, and this involves the making of an entire new staff. The turning up of a new pivot does not differ in any way from the instructions given for turning pivots on a new staff. With a little care both in turning and finishing, a new pivot can be put in so nicely that only the initiated can tell it, and then only with the aid of a strong glass. In pivoting cylinders there is some danger of breaking them. To avoid this, select a piece of joint wire, the opening of which is slightly larger than the diameter of the cylinder at the lower end, and cut off a piece the length of the cylinder proper, leaving the pivot projecting. Now fill the cylinder with lathe wax, and while the wax is warm, slip on the joint wire. You can now proceed to true up the pivot in the usual manner, and when the wax is quite cold, proceed to turn and polish the pivot before removing from the lathe. If the joint wire is properly cemented on the cylinder, it is almost impossible to break it. After all the work is done, the wax can be dissolved in alcohol. In pivoting pinions to cylinder escape-wheels and third wheels, it is not necessary to remove the wheels, but great care should be used in handling. In the latter case use plenty of wax. Do all your centering by the outside of the pinion. Perfect centering and sharp tools are requisite to good pivoting. Do not try to rush your work, especially while drilling. Proceed deliberately with your work and aim to restore the watch to the condition it was in originally, and you will find staffing and pivoting is not half as hard as some workmen would have you believe. [Footnote A: POISING THE BALANCE, by J. L. Finn, Geo. K. Hazlitt & Co., publishers, Chicago.] 
15569	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 15569-h.htm or 15569-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/5/6/15569/15569-h/15569-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/5/5/6/15569/15569-h.zip) THE CUCKOO CLOCK by MRS. MOLESWORTH Author of "Herr Baby," "Carrots," "Grandmother Dear," etc. Illustrated by Walter Crane London: MacMillan and Co., and New York. 1895 [Illustration: IT WAS A LITTLE BOAT.] [Illustration] TO MARY JOSEPHINE, AND TO THE DEAR MEMORY OF HER BROTHER, THOMAS GRINDAL, BOTH FRIENDLY LITTLE CRITICS OF MY CHILDREN'S STORIES. Edinburgh, 1877. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOUSE II. _IM_PATIENT GRISELDA III. OBEYING ORDERS IV. THE COUNTRY OF THE NODDING MANDARINS V. PICTURES VI. RUBBED THE WRONG WAY VII. BUTTERFLY-LAND VIII. MASTER PHIL IX. UP AND DOWN THE CHIMNEY X. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON XI. "CUCKOO, CUCKOO, GOOD-BYE!" LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. "WHY WON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME?" MANDARINS NODDING "MY AUNTS MUST HAVE COME BACK!" SHE LOOKED LIKE A FAIRY QUEEN "WHERE ARE THAT CUCKOO?" "TIRED! HOW COULD I BE TIRED, CUCKOO?" IT WAS A LITTLE BOAT CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOUSE. "Somewhat back from the village street Stands the old-fashioned country seat." Once upon a time in an old town, in an old street, there stood a very old house. Such a house as you could hardly find nowadays, however you searched, for it belonged to a gone-by time--a time now quite passed away. It stood in a street, but yet it was not like a town house, for though the front opened right on to the pavement, the back windows looked out upon a beautiful, quaintly terraced garden, with old trees growing so thick and close together that in summer it was like living on the edge of a forest to be near them; and even in winter the web of their interlaced branches hid all clear view behind. There was a colony of rooks in this old garden. Year after year they held their parliaments and cawed and chattered and fussed; year after year they built their nests and hatched their eggs; year after year, I _suppose_, the old ones gradually died off and the young ones took their place, though, but for knowing this _must_ be so, no one would have suspected it, for to all appearance the rooks were always the same--ever and always the same. Time indeed seemed to stand still in and all about the old house, as if it and the people who inhabited it had got _so_ old that they could not get any older, and had outlived the possibility of change. But one day at last there did come a change. Late in the dusk of an autumn afternoon a carriage drove up to the door of the old house, came rattling over the stones with a sudden noisy clatter that sounded quite impertinent, startling the rooks just as they were composing themselves to rest, and setting them all wondering what could be the matter. A little girl was the matter! A little girl in a grey merino frock and grey beaver bonnet, grey tippet and grey gloves--all grey together, even to her eyes, all except her round rosy face and bright brown hair. Her name even was rather grey, for it was Griselda. A gentleman lifted her out of the carriage and disappeared with her into the house, and later that same evening the gentleman came out of the house and got into the carriage which had come back for him again, and drove away. That was all that the rooks saw of the change that had come to the old house. Shall we go inside to see more? Up the shallow, wide, old-fashioned staircase, past the wainscoted walls, dark and shining like a mirror, down a long narrow passage with many doors, which but for their gleaming brass handles one would not have known were there, the oldest of the three old servants led little Griselda, so tired and sleepy that her supper had been left almost untasted, to the room prepared for her. It was a queer room, for everything in the house was queer; but in the dancing light of the fire burning brightly in the tiled grate, it looked cheerful enough. "I am glad there's a fire," said the child. "Will it keep alight till the morning, do you think?" The old servant shook her head. "'Twould not be safe to leave it so that it would burn till morning," she said. "When you are in bed and asleep, little missie, you won't want the fire. Bed's the warmest place." "It isn't for that I want it," said Griselda; "it's for the light I like it. This house all looks so dark to me, and yet there seem to be lights hidden in the walls too, they shine so." The old servant smiled. "It will all seem strange to you, no doubt," she said; "but you'll get to like it, missie. 'Tis a _good_ old house, and those that know best love it well." "Whom do you mean?" said Griselda. "Do you mean my great-aunts?" "Ah, yes, and others beside," replied the old woman. "The rooks love it well, and others beside. Did you ever hear tell of the 'good people,' missie, over the sea where you come from?" "Fairies, do you mean?" cried Griselda, her eyes sparkling. "Of course I've _heard_ of them, but I never saw any. Did you ever?" "I couldn't say," answered the old woman. "My mind is not young like yours, missie, and there are times when strange memories come back to me as of sights and sounds in a dream. I am too old to see and hear as I once could. We are all old here, missie. 'Twas time something young came to the old house again." "How strange and queer everything seems!" thought Griselda, as she got into bed. "I don't feel as if I belonged to it a bit. And they are all _so_ old; perhaps they won't like having a child among them?" The very same thought that had occurred to the rooks! They could not decide as to the fors and againsts at all, so they settled to put it to the vote the next morning, and in the meantime they and Griselda all went to sleep. I never heard if _they_ slept well that night; after such unusual excitement it was hardly to be expected they would. But Griselda, being a little girl and not a rook, was so tired that two minutes after she had tucked herself up in bed she was quite sound asleep, and did not wake for several hours. "I wonder what it will all look like in the morning," was her last waking thought. "If it was summer now, or spring, I shouldn't mind--there would always be something nice to do then." As sometimes happens, when she woke again, very early in the morning, long before it was light, her thoughts went straight on with the same subject. "If it was summer now, or spring," she repeated to herself, just as if she had not been asleep at all--like the man who fell into a trance for a hundred years just as he was saying "it is bitt--" and when he woke up again finished the sentence as if nothing had happened--"erly cold." "If only it was spring," thought Griselda. Just as she had got so far in her thoughts, she gave a great start. What was it she heard? Could her wish have come true? Was this fairyland indeed that she had got to, where one only needs to _wish_, for it to _be_? She rubbed her eyes, but it was too dark to see; _that_ was not very fairyland-like, but her ears she felt certain had not deceived her: she was quite, quite sure that she had heard the cuckoo! She listened with all her might, but she did not hear it again. Could it, after all, have been fancy? She grew sleepy at last, and was just dropping off when--yes, there it was again, as clear and distinct as possible--"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!" three, four, _five_ times, then perfect silence as before. "What a funny cuckoo," said Griselda to herself. "I could almost fancy it was in the house. I wonder if my great-aunts have a tame cuckoo in a cage? I don't _think_ I ever heard of such a thing, but this is such a queer house; everything seems different in it--perhaps they have a tame cuckoo. I'll ask them in the morning. It's very nice to hear, whatever it is." And, with a pleasant feeling of companionship, a sense that she was not the only living creature awake in this dark world, Griselda lay listening, contentedly enough, for the sweet, fresh notes of the cuckoo's friendly greeting. But before it sounded again through the silent house she was once more fast asleep. And this time she slept till daylight had found its way into all but the _very_ darkest nooks and crannies of the ancient dwelling. She dressed herself carefully, for she had been warned that her aunts loved neatness and precision; she fastened each button of her grey frock, and tied down her hair as smooth as such a brown tangle _could_ be tied down; and, absorbed with these weighty cares, she forgot all about the cuckoo for the time. It was not till she was sitting at breakfast with her aunts that she remembered it, or rather was reminded of it, by some little remark that was made about the friendly robins on the terrace walk outside. "Oh, aunt," she exclaimed, stopping short half-way the journey to her mouth of a spoonful of bread and milk, "have you got a cuckoo in a cage?" "A cuckoo in a cage," repeated her elder aunt, Miss Grizzel; "what is the child talking about?" "In a cage!" echoed Miss Tabitha, "a cuckoo in a cage!" "There is a cuckoo somewhere in the house," said Griselda; "I heard it in the night. It couldn't have been out-of-doors, could it? It would be too cold." The aunts looked at each other with a little smile. "So like her grandmother," they whispered. Then said Miss Grizzel-- "We have a cuckoo, my dear, though it isn't in a cage, and it isn't exactly the sort of cuckoo you are thinking of. It lives in a clock." "In a clock," repeated Miss Tabitha, as if to confirm her sister's statement. "In a clock!" exclaimed Griselda, opening her grey eyes very wide. It sounded something like the three bears, all speaking one after the other, only Griselda's voice was not like Tiny's; it was the loudest of the three. "In a clock!" she exclaimed; "but it can't be alive, then?" "Why not?" said Miss Grizzel. "I don't know," replied Griselda, looking puzzled. "I knew a little girl once," pursued Miss Grizzel, "who was quite of opinion the cuckoo _was_ alive, and nothing would have persuaded her it was not. Finish your breakfast, my dear, and then if you like you shall come with me and see the cuckoo for yourself." "Thank you, Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, going on with her bread and milk. "Yes," said Miss Tabitha, "you shall see the cuckoo for yourself." "Thank you, Aunt Tabitha," said Griselda. It was rather a bother to have always to say "thank you," or "no, thank you," twice, but Griselda thought it was polite to do so, as Aunt Tabitha always repeated everything that Aunt Grizzel said. It wouldn't have mattered so much if Aunt Tabitha had said it _at once_ after Miss Grizzel, but as she generally made a little pause between, it was sometimes rather awkward. But of course it was better to say "thank you" or "no, thank you" twice over than to hurt Aunt Tabitha's feelings. After breakfast Aunt Grizzel was as good as her word. She took Griselda through several of the rooms in the house, pointing out all the curiosities, and telling all the histories of the rooms and their contents; and Griselda liked to listen, only in every room they came to, she wondered _when_ they would get to the room where lived the cuckoo. Aunt Tabitha did not come with them, for she was rather rheumatic. On the whole, Griselda was not sorry. It would have taken such a _very_ long time, you see, to have had all the histories twice over, and possibly, if Griselda had got tired, she might have forgotten about the "thank you's" or "no, thank you's" twice over. The old house looked quite as queer and quaint by daylight as it had seemed the evening before; almost more so indeed, for the view from the windows added to the sweet, odd "old-fashionedness" of everything. "We have beautiful roses in summer," observed Miss Grizzel, catching sight of the direction in which the child's eyes were wandering. "I wish it was summer. I do love summer," said Griselda. "But there is a very rosy scent in the rooms even now, Aunt Grizzel, though it is winter, or nearly winter." Miss Grizzel looked pleased. "My pot-pourri," she explained. They were just then standing in what she called the "great saloon," a handsome old room, furnished with gold-and-white chairs, that must once have been brilliant, and faded yellow damask hangings. A feeling of awe had crept over Griselda as they entered this ancient drawing-room. What grand parties there must have been in it long ago! But as for dancing in it _now_--dancing, or laughing, or chattering--such a thing was quite impossible to imagine! Miss Grizzel crossed the room to where stood in one corner a marvellous Chinese cabinet, all black and gold and carving. It was made in the shape of a temple, or a palace--Griselda was not sure which. Any way, it was very delicious and wonderful. At the door stood, one on each side, two solemn mandarins; or, to speak more correctly, perhaps I should say, a mandarin and his wife, for the right-hand figure was evidently intended to be a lady. Miss Grizzel gently touched their heads. Forthwith, to Griselda's astonishment, they began solemnly to nod. "Oh, how do you make them do that, Aunt Grizzel?" she exclaimed. "Never you mind, my dear; it wouldn't do for _you_ to try to make them nod. They wouldn't like it," replied Miss Grizzel mysteriously. "Respect to your elders, my dear, always remember that. The mandarins are _many_ years older than you--older than I myself, in fact." Griselda wondered, if this were so, how it was that Miss Grizzel took such liberties with them herself, but she said nothing. "Here is my last summer's pot-pourri," continued Miss Grizzel, touching a great china jar on a little stand, close beside the cabinet. "You may smell it, my dear." Nothing loth, Griselda buried her round little nose in the fragrant leaves. "It's lovely," she said. "May I smell it whenever I like, Aunt Grizzel?" "We shall see," replied her aunt. "It isn't _every_ little girl, you know, that we could trust to come into the great saloon alone." "No," said Griselda meekly. Miss Grizzel led the way to a door opposite to that by which they had entered. She opened it and passed through, Griselda following, into a small ante-room. "It is on the stroke of ten," said Miss Grizzel, consulting her watch; "now, my dear, you shall make acquaintance with our cuckoo." The cuckoo "that lived in a clock!" Griselda gazed round her eagerly. Where was the clock? She could see nothing in the least like one, only up on the wall in one corner was what looked like a miniature house, of dark brown carved wood. It was not so _very_ like a house, but it certainly had a roof--a roof with deep projecting eaves; and, looking closer, yes, it _was_ a clock, after all, only the figures, which had once been gilt, had grown dim with age, like everything else, and the hands at a little distance were hardly to be distinguished from the face. Miss Grizzel stood perfectly still, looking up at the clock; Griselda beside her, in breathless expectation. Presently there came a sort of distant rumbling. _Something_ was going to happen. Suddenly two little doors above the clock face, which Griselda had not known were there, sprang open with a burst and out flew a cuckoo, flapped his wings, and uttered his pretty cry, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" Miss Grizzel counted aloud, "Seven, eight, nine, ten." "Yes, he never makes a mistake," she added triumphantly. "All these long years I have never known him wrong. There are no such clocks made nowadays, I can assure you, my dear." "But _is_ it a clock? Isn't he alive?" exclaimed Griselda. "He looked at me and nodded his head, before he flapped his wings and went in to his house again--he did indeed, aunt," she said earnestly; "just like saying, 'How do you do?' to me." Again Miss Grizzel smiled, the same odd yet pleased smile that Griselda had seen on her face at breakfast. "Just what Sybilla used to say," she murmured. "Well, my dear," she added aloud, "it is quite right he _should_ say, 'How do you do?' to you. It is the first time he has seen _you_, though many a year ago he knew your dear grandmother, and your father, too, when he was a little boy. You will find him a good friend, and one that can teach you many lessons." "What, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, looking puzzled. "Punctuality, for one thing, and faithful discharge of duty," replied Miss Grizzel. "May I come to see the cuckoo--to watch for him coming out, sometimes?" asked Griselda, who felt as if she could spend all day looking up at the clock, watching for her little friend's appearance. "You will see him several times a day," said her aunt, "for it is in this little room I intend you to prepare your tasks. It is nice and quiet, and nothing to disturb you, and close to the room where your Aunt Tabitha and I usually sit." So saying, Miss Grizzel opened a second door in the little ante-room, and, to Griselda's surprise, at the foot of a short flight of stairs through another door, half open, she caught sight of her Aunt Tabitha, knitting quietly by the fire, in the room in which they had breakfasted. "What a _very_ funny house it is, Aunt Grizzel," she said, as she followed her aunt down the steps. "Every room has so many doors, and you come back to where you were just when you think you are ever so far off. I shall never be able to find my way about." "Oh yes, you will, my dear, very soon," said her aunt encouragingly. "She is very kind," thought Griselda; "but I wish she wouldn't call my lessons tasks. It makes them sound so dreadfully hard. But, any way, I'm glad I'm to do them in the room where that dear cuckoo lives." CHAPTER II. _IM_PATIENT GRISELDA. "... fairies but seldom appear; If we do wrong we must expect That it will cost us dear!" It was all very well for a few days. Griselda found plenty to amuse herself with while the novelty lasted, enough to prevent her missing _very_ badly the home she had left "over the sea," and the troop of noisy merry brothers who teased and petted her. Of course she _missed_ them, but not "dreadfully." She was neither homesick nor "dull." It was not quite such smooth sailing when lessons began. She did not dislike lessons; in fact, she had always thought she was rather fond of them. But the having to do them alone was not lively, and her teachers were very strict. The worst of all was the writing and arithmetic master, a funny little old man who wore knee-breeches and took snuff, and called her aunt "Madame," bowing formally whenever he addressed her. He screwed Griselda up into such an unnatural attitude to write her copies, that she really felt as if she would never come straight and loose again; and the arithmetic part of his instructions was even worse. Oh! what sums in addition he gave her! Griselda had never been partial to sums, and her rather easy-going governess at home had not, to tell the truth, been partial to them either. And Mr.--I can't remember the little old gentleman's name. Suppose we call him Mr. Kneebreeches--Mr. Kneebreeches, when he found this out, conscientiously put her back to the very beginning. It was dreadful, really. He came twice a week, and the days he didn't come were as bad as those he did, for he left her a whole _row_ I was going to say, but you couldn't call Mr. Kneebreeches' addition sums "rows," they were far too fat and wide across to be so spoken of!--whole slatefuls of these terrible mountains of figures to climb wearily to the top of. And not to climb _once_ up merely. _The_ terrible thing was Mr. Kneebreeches' favourite method of what he called "proving." I can't explain it--it is far beyond my poor powers--but it had something to do with cutting off the top line, after you had added it all up and had actually done the sum, you understand--cutting off the top line and adding the long rows up again without it, and then joining it on again somewhere else. "I wouldn't mind so much," said poor Griselda, one day, "if it was any good. But you see, Aunt Grizzel, it isn't. For I'm just as likely to do the _proving_ wrong as the sum itself--more likely, for I'm always so tired when I get to the proving--and so all that's proved is that _something's_ wrong, and I'm sure that isn't any good, except to make me cross." "Hush!" said her aunt gravely. "That is not the way for a little girl to speak. Improve these golden hours of youth, Griselda; they will never return." "I hope not," muttered Griselda, "if it means doing sums." Miss Grizzel fortunately was a little deaf; she did not hear this remark. Just then the cuckoo clock struck eleven. "Good little cuckoo," said Miss Grizzel. "What an example he sets you. His life is spent in the faithful discharge of duty;" and so saying she left the room. The cuckoo was still telling the hour--eleven took a good while. It seemed to Griselda that the bird repeated her aunt's last words. "Faith--ful, dis--charge, of--your, du--ty," he said, "faith--ful." "You horrid little creature!" exclaimed Griselda in a passion; "what business have you to mock me?" She seized a book, the first that came to hand, and flung it at the bird who was just beginning his eleventh cuckoo. He disappeared with a snap, disappeared without flapping his wings, or, as Griselda always fancied he did, giving her a friendly nod, and in an instant all was silent. Griselda felt a little frightened. What had she done? She looked up at the clock. It seemed just the same as usual, the cuckoo's doors closely shut, no sign of any disturbance. Could it have been her fancy only that he had sprung back more hastily than he would have done but for her throwing the book at him? She began to hope so, and tried to go on with her lessons. But it was no use. Though she really gave her best attention to the long addition sums, and found that by so doing she managed them much better than before, she could not feel happy or at ease. Every few minutes she glanced up at the clock, as if expecting the cuckoo to come out, though she knew quite well there was no chance of his doing so till twelve o'clock, as it was only the hours, not the half hours and quarters, that he told. "I wish it was twelve o'clock," she said to herself anxiously more than once. If only the clock had not been so very high up on the wall, she would have been tempted to climb up and open the little doors, and peep in to satisfy herself as to the cuckoo's condition. But there was no possibility of this. The clock was far, very far above her reach, and there was no high piece of furniture standing near, upon which she could have climbed to get to it. There was nothing to be done but to wait for twelve o'clock. And, after all, she did not wait for twelve o'clock, for just about half-past eleven, Miss Grizzel's voice was heard calling to her to put on her hat and cloak quickly, and come out to walk up and down the terrace with her. "It is fine just now," said Miss Grizzel, "but there is a prospect of rain before long. You must leave your lessons for the present, and finish them in the afternoon." "I have finished them," said Griselda, meekly. "_All_?" inquired her aunt. "Yes, all," replied Griselda. "Ah, well, then, this afternoon, if the rain holds off, we shall drive to Merrybrow Hall, and inquire for the health of your dear godmother, Lady Lavander," said Miss Grizzel. Poor Griselda! There were few things she disliked more than a drive with her aunts. They went in the old yellow chariot, with all the windows up, and of course Griselda had to sit with her back to the horses, which made her very uncomfortable when she had no air, and had to sit still for so long. Merrybrow Hall was a large house, quite as old and much grander, but not nearly so wonderful as the home of Griselda's aunts. It was six miles off, and it took a very long time indeed to drive there in the rumbling old chariot, for the old horses were fat and wheezy, and the old coachman fat and wheezy too. Lady Lavander was, of course, old too--very old indeed, and rather grumpy and very deaf. Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha had the greatest respect for her; she always called them "My dear," as if they were quite girls, and they listened to all she said as if her words were of gold. For some mysterious reason she had been invited to be Griselda's godmother; but, as she had never shown her any proof of affection beyond giving her a prayer-book, and hoping, whenever she saw her, that she was "a good little miss," Griselda did not feel any particular cause for gratitude to her. The drive seemed longer and duller than ever this afternoon, but Griselda bore it meekly; and when Lady Lavander, as usual, expressed her hopes about her, the little girl looked down modestly, feeling her cheeks grow scarlet. "I am not a good little girl at all," she felt inclined to call out. "I'm very bad and cruel. I believe I've killed the dear little cuckoo." What _would_ the three old ladies have thought if she had called it out? As it was, Lady Lavander patted her approvingly, said she loved to see young people modest and humble-minded, and gave her a slice of very highly-spiced, rather musty gingerbread, which Griselda couldn't bear. All the way home Griselda felt in a fever of impatience to rush up to the ante-room and see if the cuckoo was all right again. It was late and dark when the chariot at last stopped at the door of the old house. Miss Grizzel got out slowly, and still more slowly Miss Tabitha followed her. Griselda was obliged to restrain herself and move demurely. "It is past your supper-time, my dear," said Miss Grizzel. "Go up at once to your room, and Dorcas shall bring some supper to you. Late hours are bad for young people." Griselda obediently wished her aunts good-night, and went quietly upstairs. But once out of sight, at the first landing, she changed her pace. She turned to the left instead of to the right, which led to her own room, and flew rather than ran along the dimly-lighted passage, at the end of which a door led into the great saloon. She opened the door. All was quite dark. It was impossible to fly or run across the great saloon! Even in daylight this would have been a difficult matter. Griselda _felt_ her way as best she could, past the Chinese cabinet and the pot-pourri jar, till she got to the ante-room door. It was open, and now, knowing her way better, she hurried in. But what was the use? All was silent, save the tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the corner. Oh, if _only_ the cuckoo would come out and call the hour as usual, what a weight would be lifted off Griselda's heart! She had no idea what o'clock it was. It might be close to the hour, or it might be just past it. She stood listening for a few minutes, then hearing Miss Grizzel's voice in the distance, she felt that she dared not stay any longer, and turned to feel her way out of the room again. Just as she got to the door it seemed to her that something softly brushed her cheek, and a very, very faint "cuckoo" sounded as it were in the air close to her. Startled, but not frightened, Griselda stood perfectly still. "Cuckoo," she said, softly. But there was no answer. Again the tones of Miss Grizzel's voice coming upstairs reached her ear. "I _must_ go," said Griselda; and finding her way across the saloon without, by great good luck, tumbling against any of the many breakable treasures with which it was filled, she flew down the long passage again, reaching her own room just before Dorcas appeared with her supper. Griselda slept badly that night. She was constantly dreaming of the cuckoo, fancying she heard his voice, and then waking with a start to find it was _only_ fancy. She looked pale and heavy-eyed when she came down to breakfast the next morning; and her Aunt Tabitha, who was alone in the room when she entered, began immediately asking her what was the matter. "I am sure you are going to be ill, child," she said, nervously. "Sister Grizzel must give you some medicine. I wonder what would be the best. Tansy tea is an excellent thing when one has taken cold, or----" But the rest of Miss Tabitha's sentence was never heard, for at this moment Miss Grizzel came hurriedly into the room--her cap awry, her shawl disarranged, her face very pale. I hardly think any one had ever seen her so discomposed before. "Sister Tabitha!" she exclaimed, "what can be going to happen? The cuckoo clock has stopped." "The cuckoo clock has stopped!" repeated Miss Tabitha, holding up her hands; "_im_possible!" "But it has, or rather I should say--dear me, I am so upset I cannot explain myself--the _cuckoo_ has stopped. The clock is going on, but the cuckoo has not told the hours, and Dorcas is of opinion that he left off doing so yesterday. What can be going to happen? What shall we do?" "What can we do?" said Miss Tabitha. "Should we send for the watch-maker?" Miss Grizzel shook her head. "'Twould be worse than useless. Were we to search the world over, we could find no one to put it right. Fifty years and more, Tabitha, fifty years and more, it has never missed an hour! We are getting old, Tabitha, our day is nearly over; perhaps 'tis to remind us of this." Miss Tabitha did not reply. She was weeping silently. The old ladies seemed to have forgotten the presence of their niece, but Griselda could not bear to see their distress. She finished her breakfast as quickly as she could, and left the room. On her way upstairs she met Dorcas. "Have you heard what has happened, little missie?" said the old servant. "Yes," replied Griselda. "My ladies are in great trouble," continued Dorcas, who seemed inclined to be more communicative than usual, "and no wonder. For fifty years that clock has never gone wrong." "Can't it be put right?" asked the child. Dorcas shook her head. "No good would come of interfering," she said. "What must be, must be. The luck of the house hangs on that clock. Its maker spent a good part of his life over it, and his last words were that it would bring good luck to the house that owned it, but that trouble would follow its silence. It's my belief," she added solemnly, "that it's a _fairy_ clock, neither more nor less, for good luck it has brought there's no denying. There are no cows like ours, missie--their milk is a proverb hereabouts; there are no hens like ours for laying all the year round; there are no roses like ours. And there's always a friendly feeling in this house, and always has been. 'Tis not a house for wrangling and jangling, and sharp words. The 'good people' can't stand that. Nothing drives them away like ill-temper or anger." Griselda's conscience gave her a sharp prick. Could it be _her_ doing that trouble was coming upon the old house? What a punishment for a moment's fit of ill-temper. "I wish you wouldn't talk that way, Dorcas," she said; "it makes me so unhappy." "What a feeling heart the child has!" said the old servant as she went on her way downstairs. "It's true--she is very like Miss Sybilla." That day was a very weary and sad one for Griselda. She was oppressed by a feeling she did not understand. She knew she had done wrong, but she had sorely repented it, and "I do think the cuckoo might have come back again," she said to herself, "if he is a fairy; and if he isn't, it can't be true what Dorcas says." Her aunts made no allusion to the subject in her presence, and almost seemed to have forgotten that she had known of their distress. They were more grave and silent than usual, but otherwise things went on in their ordinary way. Griselda spent the morning "at her tasks," in the ante-room, but was thankful to get away from the tick-tick of the clock in the corner and out into the garden. But there, alas! it was just as bad. The rooks seemed to know that something was the matter; they set to work making such a chatter immediately Griselda appeared that she felt inclined to run back into the house again. "I am sure they are talking about me," she said to herself. "Perhaps they are fairies too. I am beginning to think I don't like fairies." She was glad when bed-time came. It was a sort of reproach to her to see her aunts so pale and troubled; and though she tried to persuade herself that she thought them very silly, she could not throw off the uncomfortable feeling. She was so tired when she went to bed--tired in the disagreeable way that comes from a listless, uneasy day--that she fell asleep at once and slept heavily. When she woke, which she did suddenly, and with a start, it was still perfectly dark, like the first morning that she had wakened in the old house. It seemed to her that she had not wakened of herself--something had roused her. Yes! there it was again, a very, _very_ soft distant "cuckoo." _Was_ it distant? She could not tell. Almost she could have fancied it was close to her. "If it's that cuckoo come back again, I'll catch him!" exclaimed Griselda. She darted out of bed, felt her way to the door, which was closed, and opening it let in a rush of moonlight from the unshuttered passage window. In another moment her little bare feet were pattering along the passage at full speed, in the direction of the great saloon. For Griselda's childhood among the troop of noisy brothers had taught her one lesson--she was afraid of nothing. Or rather perhaps I should say she had never learnt that there was anything to be afraid of! And is there? CHAPTER III. OBEYING ORDERS. "Little girl, thou must thy part fulfil, If we're to take kindly to ours: Then pull up the weeds with a will, And fairies will cherish the flowers." There was moonlight, though not so much, in the saloon and the ante-room, too; for though the windows, like those in Griselda's bed-room, had the shutters closed, there was a round part at the top, high up, which the shutters did not reach to, and in crept, through these clear uncovered panes, quite as many moonbeams, you may be sure, as could find their way. Griselda, eager though she was, could not help standing still a moment to admire the effect. "It looks prettier with the light coming in at those holes at the top than even if the shutters were open," she said to herself. "How goldy-silvery the cabinet looks; and, yes, I do declare, the mandarins are nodding! I wonder if it is out of politeness to me, or does Aunt Grizzel come in last thing at night and touch them to make them keep nodding till morning? I _suppose_ they're a sort of policemen to the palace; and I dare say there are all sorts of beautiful things inside. How I should like to see all through it!" But at this moment the faint tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the next room, reaching her ear, reminded her of the object of this midnight expedition of hers. She hurried into the ante-room. It looked darker than the great saloon, for it had but one window. But through the uncovered space at the top of this window there penetrated some brilliant moonbeams, one of which lighted up brightly the face of the clock with its queer over-hanging eaves. [Illustration: "WHY WON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME?"] Griselda approached it and stood below, looking up. "Cuckoo," she said softly--very softly. But there was no reply. "Cuckoo," she repeated rather more loudly. "Why won't you speak to me? I know you are there, and you're not asleep, for I heard your voice in my own room. Why won't you come out, cuckoo?" "Tick-tick" said the clock, but there was no other reply. Griselda felt ready to cry. "Cuckoo," she said reproachfully, "I didn't think you were so hard-hearted. I have been _so_ unhappy about you, and I was so pleased to hear your voice again, for I thought I had killed you, or hurt you very badly; and I didn't _mean_ to hurt you, cuckoo. I was sorry the moment I had done it, _dreadfully_ sorry. Dear cuckoo, won't you forgive me?" There was a little sound at last--a faint _coming_ sound, and by the moonlight Griselda saw the doors open, and out flew the cuckoo. He stood still for a moment, looked round him as it were, then gently flapped his wings, and uttered his usual note--"Cuckoo." Griselda stood in breathless expectation, but in her delight she could not help very softly clapping her hands. The cuckoo cleared his throat. You never heard such a funny little noise as he made; and then, in a very clear, distinct, but yet "cuckoo-y" voice, he spoke. "Griselda," he said, "are you truly sorry?" "I told you I was," she replied. "But I didn't _feel_ so very naughty, cuckoo. I didn't, really. I was only vexed for one minute, and when I threw the book I seemed to be a very little in fun, too. And it made me so unhappy when you went away, and my poor aunts have been dreadfully unhappy too. If you hadn't come back I should have told them to-morrow what I had done. I would have told them before, but I was afraid it would have made them more unhappy. I thought I had hurt you dreadfully." "So you did," said the cuckoo. "But you _look_ quite well," said Griselda. "It was _my feelings_," replied the cuckoo; "and I couldn't help going away. I have to obey orders like other people." Griselda stared. "How do you mean?" she asked. "Never mind. You can't understand at present," said the cuckoo. "You can understand about obeying _your_ orders, and you see, when you don't, things go wrong." "Yes," said Griselda humbly, "they certainly do. But, cuckoo," she continued, "I never used to get into tempers at home--_hardly_ never, at least; and I liked my lessons then, and I never was scolded about them." "What's wrong here, then?" said the cuckoo. "It isn't often that things go wrong in this house." "That's what Dorcas says," said Griselda. "It must be with my being a child--my aunts and the house and everything have got out of children's ways." "About time they did," remarked the cuckoo drily. "And so," continued Griselda, "it is really very dull. I have lots of lessons, but it isn't so much that I mind. It is that I've no one to play with." "There's something in that," said the cuckoo. He flapped his wings and was silent for a minute or two. "I'll consider about it," he observed at last. "Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say. "And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey present orders and go back to bed." "Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat timidly. "You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't you?" "You see I wasn't sure if you would like it," returned Griselda, "for of course you're not like a person, and--and--I've been told all sorts of queer things about what fairies like and don't like." "Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo. "Dorcas did, and, _of course_, my own common sense did too," replied Griselda. "You must be a fairy--you couldn't be anything else." "I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird. Griselda looked puzzled. "I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing." "What?" said the cuckoo. "I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at you, have you come back for good?" "Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo. Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and make my aunts happy again?" "You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed." "Good night," said Griselda, "and thank you, and please don't forget to let me know when you've considered." "Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact second of time it was two o'clock in the morning. She made her way back to bed. She had been standing some time talking to the cuckoo, but, though it was now well on in November, she did not feel the least cold, nor sleepy! She felt as happy and light-hearted as possible, and she wished it was morning, that she might get up. Yet the moment she laid her little brown curly head on the pillow, she fell asleep; and it seemed to her that just as she dropped off a soft feathery wing brushed her cheek gently and a tiny "Cuckoo" sounded in her ear. When she woke it was bright morning, really bright morning, for the wintry sun was already sending some clear yellow rays out into the pale grey-blue sky. "It must be late," thought Griselda, when she had opened the shutters and seen how light it was. "I must have slept a long time. I feel so beautifully unsleepy now. I must dress quickly--how nice it will be to see my aunts look happy again! I don't even care if they scold me for being late." But, after all, it was not so much later than usual; it was only a much brighter morning than they had had for some time. Griselda did dress herself very quickly, however. As she went downstairs two or three of the clocks in the house, for there were several, were striking eight. These clocks must have been a little before the right time, for it was not till they had again relapsed into silence that there rang out from the ante-room the clear sweet tones, eight times repeated, of "Cuckoo." Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were already at the breakfast-table, but they received their little niece most graciously. Nothing was said about the clock, however, till about half-way through the meal, when Griselda, full of eagerness to know if her aunts were aware of the cuckoo's return, could restrain herself no longer. "Aunt Grizzel," she said, "isn't the cuckoo all right again?" "Yes, my dear. I am delighted to say it is," replied Miss Grizzel. "Did you get it put right, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, slyly. "Little girls should not ask so many questions," replied Miss Grizzel, mysteriously. "It _is_ all right again, and that is enough. During fifty years that cuckoo has never, till yesterday, missed an hour. If you, in your sphere, my dear, do as well during fifty years, you won't have done badly." "No, indeed, you won't have done badly," repeated Miss Tabitha. But though the two old ladies thus tried to improve the occasion by a little lecturing, Griselda could see that at the bottom of their hearts they were both so happy that, even if she had been very naughty indeed, they could hardly have made up their minds to scold her. She was not at all inclined to be naughty this day. She had something to think about and look forward to, which made her quite a different little girl, and made her take heart in doing her lessons as well as she possibly could. "I wonder when the cuckoo will have considered enough about my having no one to play with?" she said to herself, as she was walking up and down the terrace at the back of the house. "Caw, caw!" screamed a rook just over her head, as if in answer to her thought. Griselda looked up at him. "Your voice isn't half so pretty as the cuckoo's, Mr. Rook," she said. "All the same, I dare say I should make friends with you, if I understood what you meant. How funny it would be to know all the languages of the birds and the beasts, like the prince in the fairy tale! I wonder if I should wish for that, if a fairy gave me a wish? No, I don't think I would. I'd _far_ rather have the fairy carpet that would take you anywhere you liked in a minute. I'd go to China to see if all the people there look like Aunt Grizzel's mandarins; and I'd first of all, of course, go to fairyland." "You must come in now, little missie," said Dorcas's voice. "Miss Grizzel says you have had play enough, and there's a nice fire in the ante-room for you to do your lessons by." "Play!" repeated Griselda indignantly, as she turned to follow the old servant. "Do you call walking up and down the terrace 'play,' Dorcas? I mustn't loiter even to pick a flower, if there were any, for fear of catching cold, and I mustn't run for fear of overheating myself. I declare, Dorcas, if I don't have some play soon, or something to amuse me, I think I'll run away." "Nay, nay, missie, don't talk like that. You'd never do anything so naughty, and you so like Miss Sybilla, who was so good." "Dorcas, I'm tired of being told I'm like Miss Sybilla," said Griselda, impatiently. "She was my grandmother; no one would like to be told they were like their grandmother. It makes me feel as if my face must be all screwy up and wrinkly, and as if I should have spectacles on and a wig." "_That_ is not like what Miss Sybilla was when I first saw her," said Dorcas. "She was younger than you, missie, and as pretty as a fairy." "_Was_ she?" exclaimed Griselda, stopping short. "Yes, indeed she was. She might have been a fairy, so sweet she was and gentle--and yet so merry. Every creature loved her; even the animals about seemed to know her, as if she was one of themselves. She brought good luck to the house, and it was a sad day when she left it." "I thought you said it was the cuckoo that brought good luck?" said Griselda. "Well, so it was. The cuckoo and Miss Sybilla came here the same day. It was left to her by her mother's father, with whom she had lived since she was a baby, and when he died she came here to her sisters. She wasn't _own_ sister to my ladies, you see, missie. Her mother had come from Germany, and it was in some strange place there, where her grandfather lived, that the cuckoo clock was made. They make wonderful clocks there, I've been told, but none more wonderful than our cuckoo, I'm sure." "No, I'm _sure_ not," said Griselda, softly. "Why didn't Miss Sybilla take it with her when she was married and went away?" "She knew her sisters were so fond of it. It was like a memory of her left behind for them. It was like a part of her. And do you know, missie, the night she died--she died soon after your father was born, a year after she was married--for a whole hour, from twelve to one, that cuckoo went on cuckooing in a soft, sad way, like some living creature in trouble. Of course, we did not know anything was wrong with her, and folks said something had caught some of the springs of the works; but _I_ didn't think so, and never shall. And----" But here Dorcas's reminiscences were abruptly brought to a close by Miss Grizzel's appearance at the other end of the terrace. "Griselda, what are you loitering so for? Dorcas, you should have hastened, not delayed Miss Griselda." So Griselda was hurried off to her lessons, and Dorcas to her kitchen. But Griselda did not much mind. She had plenty to think of and wonder about, and she liked to do her lessons in the ante-room, with the tick-tick of the clock in her ears, and the feeling that _perhaps_ the cuckoo was watching her through some invisible peep-hole in his closed doors. "And if he sees," thought Griselda, "if he sees how hard I am trying to do my lessons well, it will perhaps make him be quick about 'considering.'" So she did try very hard. And she didn't speak to the cuckoo when he came out to say it was four o'clock. She was busy, and he was busy. She felt it was better to wait till he gave her some sign of being ready to talk to her again. For fairies, you know, children, however charming, are sometimes _rather_ queer to have to do with. They don't like to be interfered with, or treated except with very great respect, and they have their own ideas about what is proper and what isn't, I can assure you. I suppose it was with working so hard at her lessons--most people would say it was with having been up the night before, running about the house in the moonlight; but as she had never felt so "fresh" in her life as when she got up that morning, it could hardly have been that--that Griselda felt so tired and sleepy that evening, she could hardly keep her eyes open. She begged to go to bed quite half an hour earlier than usual, which made Miss Tabitha afraid again that she was going to be ill. But as there is nothing better for children than to go to bed early, even if they _are_ going to be ill, Miss Grizzel told her to say good-night, and to ask Dorcas to give her a wine-glassful of elderberry wine, nice and hot, after she was in bed. Griselda had no objection to the elderberry wine, though she felt she was having it on false pretences. She certainly did not need it to send her to sleep, for almost before her head touched the pillow she was as sound as a top. She had slept a good long while, when again she wakened suddenly--just as she had done the night before, and again with the feeling that something had wakened her. And the queer thing was that the moment she was awake she felt so _very_ awake--she had no inclination to stretch and yawn and hope it wasn't quite time to get up, and think how nice and warm bed was, and how cold it was outside! She sat straight up, and peered out into the darkness, feeling quite ready for an adventure. "Is it you, cuckoo?" she said softly. There was no answer, but listening intently, the child fancied she heard a faint rustling or fluttering in the corner of the room by the door. She got up and, feeling her way, opened it, and the instant she had done so she heard, a few steps only in front of her it seemed, the familiar notes, very, _very_ soft and whispered, "Cuckoo, cuckoo." It went on and on, down the passage, Griselda trotting after. There was no moon to-night, heavy clouds had quite hidden it, and outside the rain was falling heavily. Griselda could hear it on the window-panes, through the closed shutters and all. But dark as it was, she made her way along without any difficulty, down the passage, across the great saloon, in through the ante-room door, guided only by the little voice now and then to be heard in front of her. She came to a standstill right before the clock, and stood there for a minute or two patiently waiting. She had not very long to wait. There came the usual murmuring sound, then the doors above the clock face opened--she heard them open, it was far too dark to see--and in his ordinary voice, clear and distinct (it was just two o'clock, so the cuckoo was killing two birds with one stone, telling the hour and greeting Griselda at once), the bird sang out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo." "Good evening, cuckoo," said Griselda, when he had finished. "Good morning, you mean," said the cuckoo. "Good morning, then, cuckoo," said Griselda. "Have you considered about me, cuckoo?" The cuckoo cleared his throat. "Have you learnt to obey orders yet, Griselda?" he inquired. "I'm trying," replied Griselda. "But you see, cuckoo, I've not had very long to learn in--it was only last night you told me, you know." The cuckoo sighed. "You've a great deal to learn, Griselda." "I dare say I have," she said. "But I can tell you one thing, cuckoo--whatever lessons I have, I _couldn't_ ever have any worse than those addition sums of Mr. Kneebreeches'. I have made up my mind about that, for to-day, do you know, cuckoo----" "Yesterday," corrected the cuckoo. "Always be exact in your statements, Griselda." "Well, yesterday, then," said Griselda, rather tartly; "though when you know quite well what I mean, I don't see that you need be so _very_ particular. Well, as I was saying, I tried and _tried_, but still they were fearful. They were, indeed." "You've a great deal to learn, Griselda," repeated the cuckoo. "I wish you wouldn't say that so often," said Griselda. "I thought you were going to _play_ with me." "There's something in that," said the cuckoo, "there's something in that. I should like to talk about it. But we could talk more comfortably if you would come up here and sit beside me." Griselda thought her friend must be going out of his mind. "Sit beside you up there!" she exclaimed. "Cuckoo, how _could_ I? I'm far, far too big." "Big!" returned the cuckoo. "What do you mean by big? It's all a matter of fancy. Don't you know that if the world and everything in it, counting yourself of course, was all made little enough to go into a walnut, you'd never find out the difference." "_Wouldn't_ I?" said Griselda, feeling rather muddled; "but, _not_ counting myself, cuckoo, I would then, wouldn't I?" "Nonsense," said the cuckoo hastily; "you've a great deal to learn, and one thing is, not to _argue_. Nobody should argue; it's a shocking bad habit, and ruins the digestion. Come up here and sit beside me comfortably. Catch hold of the chain; you'll find you can manage if you try." "But it'll stop the clock," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel said I was never to touch the weights or the chains." "Stuff," said the cuckoo; "it won't stop the clock. Catch hold of the chains and swing yourself up. There now--I told you you could manage it." CHAPTER IV. THE COUNTRY OF THE NODDING MANDARINS. "We're all nodding, nid-nid-nodding." _How_ she managed it she never knew; but, somehow or other, it _was_ managed. She seemed to slide up the chain just as easily as in a general way she would have slidden down, only without any disagreeable anticipation of a bump at the end of the journey. And when she got to the top how wonderfully different it looked from anything she could have expected! The doors stood open, and Griselda found them quite big enough, or herself quite small enough--which it was she couldn't tell, and as it was all a matter of fancy she decided not to trouble to inquire--to pass through quite comfortably. And inside there was the most charming little snuggery imaginable. It was something like a saloon railway carriage--it seemed to be all lined and carpeted and everything, with rich mossy red velvet; there was a little round table in the middle and two arm-chairs, on one of which sat the cuckoo--"quite like other people," thought Griselda to herself--while the other, as he pointed out to Griselda by a little nod, was evidently intended for her. "Thank you," said she, sitting down on the chair as she spoke. "Are you comfortable?" inquired the cuckoo. "Quite," replied Griselda, looking about her with great satisfaction. "Are all cuckoo clocks like this when you get up inside them?" she inquired. "I can't think how there's room for this dear little place between the clock and the wall. Is it a hole cut out of the wall on purpose, cuckoo?" "Hush!" said the cuckoo, "we've got other things to talk about. First, shall I lend you one of my mantles? You may feel cold." "I don't just now," replied Griselda; "but perhaps I _might_." She looked at her little bare feet as she spoke, and wondered why _they_ weren't cold, for it was very chilblainy weather. The cuckoo stood up, and with one of his claws reached from a corner where it was hanging a cloak which Griselda had not before noticed. For it was hanging wrong side out, and the lining was red velvet, very like what the sides of the little room were covered with, so it was no wonder she had not noticed it. Had it been hanging the _right_ side out she must have done so; this side was so very wonderful! It was all feathers--feathers of every shade and colour, but beautifully worked in, somehow, so as to lie quite smoothly and evenly, one colour melting away into another like those in a prism, so that you could hardly tell where one began and another ended. "What a _lovely_ cloak!" said Griselda, wrapping it round her and feeling even more comfortable than before, as she watched the rays of the little lamp in the roof--I think I was forgetting to tell you that the cuckoo's boudoir was lighted by a dear little lamp set into the red velvet roof like a pearl in a ring--playing softly on the brilliant colours of the feather mantle. "It's better than lovely," said the cuckoo, "as you shall see. Now, Griselda," he continued, in the tone of one coming to business--"now, Griselda, let us talk." "We have been talking," said Griselda, "ever so long. I am very comfortable. When you say 'let us talk' like that, it makes me forget all I wanted to say. Just let me sit still and say whatever comes into my head." "That won't do," said the cuckoo; "we must have a plan of action." "A what?" said Griselda. "You see you _have_ a great deal to learn," said the cuckoo triumphantly. "You don't understand what I say." "But I didn't come up here to learn," said Griselda; "I can do that down there;" and she nodded her head in the direction of the ante-room table. "I want to play." "Just so," said the cuckoo; "that's what I want to talk about. What do you call 'play'--blindman's-buff and that sort of thing?" "No," said Griselda, considering. "I'm getting rather too big for that kind of play. Besides, cuckoo, you and I alone couldn't have much fun at blindman's-buff; there'd be only me to catch you or you to catch me." "Oh, we could easily get more," said the cuckoo. "The mandarins would be pleased to join." "The mandarins!" repeated Griselda. "Why, cuckoo, they're not alive! How could they play?" The cuckoo looked at her gravely for a minute, then shook his head. "You have a _great_ deal to learn," he said solemnly. "Don't you know that _everything's_ alive?" "No," said Griselda, "I don't; and I don't know what you mean, and I don't think I want to know what you mean. I want to talk about playing." "Well," said the cuckoo, "talk." "What I call playing," pursued Griselda, "is--I have thought about it now, you see--is being amused. If you will amuse me, cuckoo, I will count that you are playing with me." "How shall I amuse you?" inquired he. "Oh, that's for you to find out!" exclaimed Griselda. "You might tell me fairy stories, you know: if you're a fairy you should know lots; or--oh yes, of course that would be far nicer--if you are a fairy you might take me with you to fairyland." Again the cuckoo shook his head. "That," said he, "I cannot do." "Why not?" said Griselda. "Lots of children have been there." "I doubt it," said the cuckoo. "_Some_ may have been, but not lots. And some may have thought they had been there who hadn't really been there at all. And as to those who have been there, you may be sure of one thing--they were not _taken_, they found their own way. No one ever was _taken_ to fairyland--to the real fairyland. They may have been taken to the neighbouring countries, but not to fairyland itself." "And how is one ever to find one's own way there?" asked Griselda. "That I cannot tell you either," replied the cuckoo. "There are many roads there; you may find yours some day. And if ever you do find it, be sure you keep what you see of it well swept and clean, and then you may see further after a while. Ah, yes, there are many roads and many doors into fairyland!" "Doors!" cried Griselda. "Are there any doors into fairyland in this house?" "Several," said the cuckoo; "but don't waste your time looking for them at present. It would be no use." "Then how will you amuse me?" inquired Griselda, in a rather disappointed tone. "Don't you care to go anywhere except to fairyland?" said the cuckoo. "Oh yes, there are lots of places I wouldn't mind seeing. Not geography sort of places--it would be just like lessons to go to India and Africa and all those places--but _queer_ places, like the mines where the goblins make diamonds and precious stones, and the caves down under the sea where the mermaids live. And--oh, I've just thought--now I'm so nice and little, I _would_ like to go all over the mandarins' palace in the great saloon." "That can be easily managed," said the cuckoo; "but--excuse me for an instant," he exclaimed suddenly. He gave a spring forward and disappeared. Then Griselda heard his voice outside the doors, "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo." It was three o'clock. The doors opened again to let him through, and he re-settled himself on his chair. "As I was saying," he went on, "nothing could be easier. But that palace, as you call it, has an entrance on the other side, as well as the one you know." "Another door, do you mean?" said Griselda. "How funny! Does it go through the wall? And where does it lead to?" "It leads," replied the cuckoo, "it leads to the country of the Nodding Mandarins." "_What_ fun!" exclaimed Griselda, clapping her hands. "Cuckoo, do let us go there. How can we get down? You can fly, but must I slide down the chain again?" "Oh dear, no," said the cuckoo, "by no means. You have only to stretch out your feather mantle, flap it as if it was wings--so"--he flapped his own wings encouragingly--"wish, and there you'll be." "Where?" said Griselda bewilderedly. "Wherever you wish to be, of course," said the cuckoo. "Are you ready? Here goes." "Wait--wait a moment," cried Griselda. "Where am I to wish to be?" "Bless the child!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "Where _do_ you wish to be? You said you wanted to visit the country of the Nodding Mandarins." "Yes; but am I to wish first to be in the palace in the great saloon?" "Certainly," replied the cuckoo. "That is the entrance to Mandarin Land, and you said you would like to see through it. So--you're surely ready now?" "A thought has just struck me," said Griselda. "How will you know what o'clock it is, so as to come back in time to tell the next hour? My aunts will get into such a fright if you go wrong again! Are you sure we shall have time to go to the mandarins' country to-night?" "Time!" repeated the cuckoo; "what is time? Ah, Griselda, you have a _very_ great deal to learn! What do you mean by time?" "I don't know," replied Griselda, feeling rather snubbed. "Being slow or quick--I suppose that's what I mean." "And what is slow, and what is quick?" said the cuckoo. "_All_ a matter of fancy! If everything that's been done since the world was made till now, was done over again in five minutes, you'd never know the difference." [Illustration: MANDARINS NODDING.] "Oh, cuckoo, I wish you wouldn't!" cried poor Griselda; "you're worse than sums, you do so puzzle me. It's like what you said about nothing being big or little, only it's worse. Where would all the days and hours be if there was nothing but minutes? Oh, cuckoo, you said you'd amuse me, and you do nothing but puzzle me." "It was your own fault. You wouldn't get ready," said the cuckoo. "_Now_, here goes! Flap and wish." Griselda flapped and wished. She felt a sort of rustle in the air, that was all--then she found herself standing with the cuckoo in front of the Chinese cabinet, the door of which stood open, while the mandarins on each side, nodding politely, seemed to invite them to enter. Griselda hesitated. "Go on," said the cuckoo, patronizingly; "ladies first." Griselda went on. To her surprise, inside the cabinet it was quite light, though where the light came from that illuminated all the queer corners and recesses and streamed out to the front, where stood the mandarins, she could not discover. The "palace" was not quite as interesting as she had expected. There were lots of little rooms in it opening on to balconies commanding, no doubt, a splendid view of the great saloon; there were ever so many little staircases leading to more little rooms and balconies; but it all seemed empty and deserted. "I don't care for it," said Griselda, stopping short at last; "it's all the same, and there's nothing to see. I thought my aunts kept ever so many beautiful things in here, and there's nothing." "Come along, then," said the cuckoo. "I didn't expect you'd care for the palace, as you called it, much. Let us go out the other way." He hopped down a sort of little staircase near which they were standing, and Griselda followed him willingly enough. At the foot they found themselves in a vestibule, much handsomer than the entrance at the other side, and the cuckoo, crossing it, lifted one of his claws and touched a spring in the wall. Instantly a pair of large doors flew open in the middle, revealing to Griselda the prettiest and most curious sight she had ever seen. A flight of wide shallow steps led down from this doorway into a long, long avenue bordered by stiffly growing trees, from the branches of which hung innumerable lamps of every colour, making a perfect network of brilliance as far as the eye could reach. "Oh, how lovely!" cried Griselda, clapping her hands. "It'll be like walking along a rainbow. Cuckoo, come quick." "Stop," said the cuckoo; "we've a good way to go. There's no need to walk. Palanquin!" He flapped his wings, and instantly a palanquin appeared at the foot of the steps. It was made of carved ivory, and borne by four Chinese-looking figures with pigtails and bright-coloured jackets. A feeling came over Griselda that she was dreaming, or else that she had seen this palanquin before. She hesitated. Suddenly she gave a little jump of satisfaction. "I know," she exclaimed. "It's exactly like the one that stands under a glass shade on Lady Lavander's drawing-room mantelpiece. I wonder if it is the very one? Fancy me being able to get _into_ it!" She looked at the four bearers. Instantly they all nodded. "What do they mean?" asked Griselda, turning to the cuckoo. "Get in," he replied. "Yes, I'm just going to get in," she said; "but what do _they_ mean when they nod at me like that?" "They mean, of course, what I tell you--'Get in,'" said the cuckoo. "Why don't they say so, then?" persisted Griselda, getting in, however, as she spoke. "Griselda, you have a _very_ great----" began the cuckoo, but Griselda interrupted him. "Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "if you say that again, I'll jump out of the palanquin and run away home to bed. Of course I've a great deal to learn--that's why I like to ask questions about everything I see. Now, tell me where we are going." "In the first place," said the cuckoo, "are you comfortable?" "Very," said Griselda, settling herself down among the cushions. It was a change from the cuckoo's boudoir. There were no chairs or seats, only a number of very, _very_ soft cushions covered with green silk. There were green silk curtains all round, too, which you could draw or not as you pleased, just by touching a spring. Griselda stroked the silk gently. It was not "fruzzley" silk, if you know what that means; it did not make you feel as if your nails wanted cutting, or as if all the rough places on your skin were being rubbed up the wrong way; its softness was like that of a rose or pansy petal. "What nice silk!" said Griselda. "I'd like a dress of it. I never noticed that the palanquin was lined so nicely," she continued, "for I suppose it _is_ the one from Lady Lavander's mantelpiece? There couldn't be two so exactly like each other." The cuckoo gave a sort of whistle. "What a goose you are, my dear!" he exclaimed. "Excuse me," he continued, seeing that Griselda looked rather offended; "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but you won't let me say the other thing, you know. The palanquin from Lady Lavander's! I should think not. You might as well mistake one of those horrible paper roses that Dorcas sticks in her vases for one of your aunt's Gloires de Dijon! The palanquin from Lady Lavander's--a clumsy human imitation not worth looking at!" "I didn't know," said Griselda humbly. "Do they make such beautiful things in Mandarin Land?" "Of course," said the cuckoo. Griselda sat silent for a minute or two, but very soon she recovered her spirits. "Will you please tell me where we are going?" she asked again. "You'll see directly," said the cuckoo; "not that I mind telling you. There's to be a grand reception at one of the palaces to-night. I thought you'd like to assist at it. It'll give you some idea of what a palace is like. By-the-by, can you dance?" "A little," replied Griselda. "Ah, well, I dare say you will manage. I've ordered a court dress for you. It will be all ready when we get there." "Thank you," said Griselda. In a minute or two the palanquin stopped. The cuckoo got out, and Griselda followed him. She found that they were at the entrance to a _very_ much grander palace than the one in her aunt's saloon. The steps leading up to the door were very wide and shallow, and covered with a gold embroidered carpet, which _looked_ as if it would be prickly to her bare feet, but which, on the contrary, when she trod upon it, felt softer than the softest moss. She could see very little besides the carpet, for at each side of the steps stood rows and rows of mandarins, all something like, but a great deal grander than, the pair outside her aunt's cabinet; and as the cuckoo hopped and Griselda walked up the staircase, they all, in turn, row by row, began solemnly to nod. It gave them the look of a field of very high grass, through which, any one passing, leaves for the moment a trail, till all the heads bob up again into their places. "What do they mean?" whispered Griselda. "It's a royal salute," said the cuckoo. "A salute!" said Griselda. "I thought that meant kissing or guns." "Hush!" said the cuckoo, for by this time they had arrived at the top of the staircase; "you must be dressed now." Two mandariny-looking young ladies, with porcelain faces and three-cornered head-dresses, stepped forward and led Griselda into a small ante-room, where lay waiting for her the most magnificent dress you ever saw. But how _do_ you think they dressed her? It was all by nodding. They nodded to the blue and silver embroidered jacket, and in a moment it had fitted itself on to her. They nodded to the splendid scarlet satin skirt, made very short in front and very long behind, and before Griselda knew where she was, it was adjusted quite correctly. They nodded to the head-dress, and the sashes, and the necklaces and bracelets, and forthwith they all arranged themselves. Last of all, they nodded to the dearest, sweetest little pair of high-heeled shoes imaginable--all silver, and blue, and gold, and scarlet, and everything mixed up together, _only_ they were rather a stumpy shape about the toes, and Griselda's bare feet were encased in them, and, to her surprise, quite comfortably so. "They don't hurt me a bit," she said aloud; "yet they didn't look the least the shape of my foot." But her attendants only nodded; and turning round, she saw the cuckoo waiting for her. He did not speak either, rather to her annoyance, but gravely led the way through one grand room after another to the grandest of all, where the entertainment was evidently just about to begin. And everywhere there were mandarins, rows and rows, who all set to work nodding as fast as Griselda appeared. She began to be rather tired of royal salutes, and was glad when, at last, in profound silence, the procession, consisting of the cuckoo and herself, and about half a dozen "mandarins," came to a halt before a kind of daïs, or raised seat, at the end of the hall. Upon this daïs stood a chair--a throne of some kind, Griselda supposed it to be--and upon this was seated the grandest and gravest personage she had yet seen. "Is he the king of the mandarins?" she whispered. But the cuckoo did not reply; and before she had time to repeat the question, the very grand and grave person got down from his seat, and coming towards her, offered her his hand, at the same time nodding--first once, then two or three times together, then once again. Griselda seemed to know what he meant. He was asking her to dance. "Thank you," she said. "I can't dance _very_ well, but perhaps you won't mind." The king, if that was his title, took not the slightest notice of her reply, but nodded again--once, then two or three times together, then once alone, just as before. Griselda did not know what to do, when suddenly she felt something poking her head. It was the cuckoo--he had lifted his claw, and was tapping her head to make her nod. So she nodded--once, twice together, then once--that appeared to be enough. The king nodded once again; an invisible band suddenly struck up the loveliest music, and off they set to the places of honour reserved for them in the centre of the room, where all the mandarins were assembling. What a dance that was! It began like a minuet and ended something like the hay-makers. Griselda had not the least idea what the figures or steps were, but it did not matter. If she did not know, her shoes or something about her did; for she got on famously. The music was lovely--"so the mandarins can't be deaf, though they are dumb," thought Griselda, "which is one good thing about them." The king seemed to enjoy it as much as she did, though he never smiled or laughed; any one could have seen he liked it by the way he whirled and twirled himself about. And between the figures, when they stopped to rest for a little, Griselda got on very well too. There was no conversation, or rather, if there was, it was all nodding. So Griselda nodded too, and though she did not know what her nods meant, the king seemed to understand and be quite pleased; and when they had nodded enough, the music struck up again, and off they set, harder than before. And every now and then tiny little mandariny boys appeared with trays filled with the most delicious fruits and sweetmeats. Griselda was not a greedy child, but for once in her life she really _did_ feel rather so. I cannot possibly describe these delicious things; just think of whatever in all your life was the most "lovely" thing you ever eat, and you may be sure they tasted like that. Only the cuckoo would not eat any, which rather distressed Griselda. He walked about among the dancers, apparently quite at home; and the mandarins did not seem at all surprised to see him, though he did look rather odd, being nearly, if not quite, as big as any of them. Griselda hoped he was enjoying himself, considering that she had to thank him for all the fun _she_ was having, but she felt a little conscience-stricken when she saw that he wouldn't eat anything. "Cuckoo," she whispered; she dared not talk out loud--it would have seemed so remarkable, you see. "Cuckoo," she said, very, very softly, "I wish you would eat something. You'll be so tired and hungry." "No, thank you," said the cuckoo; and you can't think how pleased Griselda was at having succeeded in making him speak. "It isn't my way. I hope you are enjoying yourself?" "Oh, _very_ much," said Griselda. "I----" "Hush!" said the cuckoo; and looking up, Griselda saw a number of mandarins, in a sort of procession, coming their way. When they got up to the cuckoo they set to work nodding, two or three at a time, more energetically than usual. When they stopped, the cuckoo nodded in return, and then hopped off towards the middle of the room. "They're very fond of good music, you see," he whispered as he passed Griselda; "and they don't often get it." CHAPTER V. PICTURES. "And she is always beautiful, And always is eighteen!" When he got to the middle of the room the cuckoo cleared his throat, flapped his wings, and began to sing. Griselda was quite astonished. She had had no idea that her friend was so accomplished. It wasn't "cuckooing" at all; it was real singing, like that of the nightingale or the thrush, or like something prettier than either. It made Griselda think of woods in summer, and of tinkling brooks flowing through them, with the pretty brown pebbles sparkling up through the water; and then it made her think of something sad--she didn't know what; perhaps it was of the babes in the wood and the robins covering them up with leaves--and then again, in a moment, it sounded as if all the merry elves and sprites that ever were heard of had escaped from fairyland, and were rolling over and over with peals of rollicking laughter. And at last, all of a sudden, the song came to an end. "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" rang out three times, clear and shrill. The cuckoo flapped his wings, made a bow to the mandarins, and retired to his old corner. There was no buzz of talk, as is usual after a performance has come to a close, but there was a great buzz of nodding, and Griselda, wishing to give the cuckoo as much praise as she could, nodded as hard as any of them. The cuckoo really looked quite shy at receiving so much applause. But in a minute or two the music struck up and the dancing began again--one, two, three: it seemed a sort of mazurka this time, which suited the mandarins very well, as it gave them a chance of nodding to mark the time. Griselda had once learnt the mazurka, so she got on even better than before--only she would have liked it more if her shoes had had sharper toes; they looked so stumpy when she tried to point them. All the same, it was very good fun, and she was not too well pleased when she suddenly felt the little sharp tap of the cuckoo on her head, and heard him whisper-- "Griselda, it's time to go." "Oh dear, why?" she asked. "I'm not a bit tired. Why need we go yet?" "Obeying orders," said the cuckoo; and after that, Griselda dared not say another word. It was very nearly as bad as being told she had a great deal to learn. "Must I say good-bye to the king and all the people?" she inquired; but before the cuckoo had time to answer, she gave a little squeal. "Oh, cuckoo," she cried, "you've trod on my foot." "I beg your pardon," said the cuckoo. "I must take off my shoe; it does so hurt," she went on. "Take it off, then," said the cuckoo. Griselda stooped to take off her shoe. "Are we going home in the pal--?" she began to say; but she never finished the sentence, for just as she had got her shoe off she felt the cuckoo throw something round her. It was the feather mantle. And Griselda knew nothing more till she opened her eyes the next morning, and saw the first early rays of sunshine peeping in through the chinks of the closed shutters of her little bedroom. She rubbed her eyes, and sat up in bed. Could it have been a dream? "What could have made me fall asleep so all of a sudden?" she thought. "I wasn't the least sleepy at the mandarins' ball. What fun it was! I believe that cuckoo made me fall asleep on purpose to make me fancy it was a dream. _Was_ it a dream?" She began to feel confused and doubtful, when suddenly she felt something hurting her arm, like a little lump in the bed. She felt with her hand to see if she could smooth it away, and drew out--one of the shoes belonging to her court dress! The very one she had held in her hand at the moment the cuckoo spirited her home again to bed. "Ah, Mr. Cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "you meant to play me a trick, but you haven't succeeded, you see." She jumped out of bed and unfastened one of the window-shutters, then jumped in again to admire the little shoe in comfort. It was even prettier than she had thought it at the ball. She held it up and looked at it. It was about the size of the first joint of her little finger. "To think that I should have been dancing with you on last night!" she said to the shoe. "And yet the cuckoo says being big or little is all a matter of fancy. I wonder what he'll think of to amuse me next?" She was still holding up the shoe and admiring it when Dorcas came with the hot water. "Look, Dorcas," she said. "Bless me, it's one of the shoes off the Chinese dolls in the saloon," exclaimed the old servant. "How ever did you get that, missie? Your aunts wouldn't be pleased." "It just isn't one of the Chinese dolls' shoes, and if you don't believe me, you can go and look for yourself," said Griselda. "It's my very own shoe, and it was given me to my own self." Dorcas looked at her curiously, but said no more, only as she was going out of the room Griselda heard her saying something about "so very like Miss Sybilla." "I wonder what 'Miss Sybilla' _was_ like?" thought Griselda. "I have a good mind to ask the cuckoo. He seems to have known her very well." It was not for some days that Griselda had a chance of asking the cuckoo anything. She saw and heard nothing of him--nothing, that is to say, but his regular appearance to tell the hours as usual. "I suppose," thought Griselda, "he thinks the mandarins' ball was fun enough to last me a good while. It really was very good-natured of him to take me to it, so I mustn't grumble." A few days after this poor Griselda caught cold. It was not a very bad cold, I must confess, but her aunts made rather a fuss about it. They wanted her to stay in bed, but to this Griselda so much objected that they did not insist upon it. "It would be so dull," she said piteously. "Please let me stay in the ante-room, for all my things are there; and, then, there's the cuckoo." Aunt Grizzel smiled at this, and Griselda got her way. But even in the ante-room it was rather dull. Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were obliged to go out, to drive all the way to Merrybrow Hall, as Lady Lavander sent a messenger to say that she had an attack of influenza, and wished to see her friends at once. Miss Tabitha began to cry--she was so tender-hearted. "Troubles never come singly," said Miss Grizzel, by way of consolation. "No, indeed, they never come singly," said Miss Tabitha, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. So off they set; and Griselda, in her arm-chair by the ante-room fire, with some queer little old-fashioned books of her aunts', which she had already read more than a dozen times, beside her by way of amusement, felt that there was one comfort in her troubles--she had escaped the long weary drive to her godmother's. But it was very dull. It got duller and duller. Griselda curled herself up in her chair, and wished she could go to sleep, though feeling quite sure she couldn't, for she had stayed in bed much later than usual this morning, and had been obliged to spend the time in sleeping, for want of anything better to do. She looked up at the clock. "I don't know even what to wish for," she said to herself. "I don't feel the least inclined to play at anything, and I shouldn't care to go to the mandarins again. Oh, cuckoo, cuckoo, I am so dull; couldn't you think of anything to amuse me?" It was not near "any o'clock." But after waiting a minute or two, it seemed to Griselda that she heard the soft sound of "coming" that always preceded the cuckoo's appearance. She was right. In another moment she heard his usual greeting, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!" "Oh, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come at last. I _am_ so dull, and it has nothing to do with lessons this time. It's that I've got such a bad cold, and my head's aching, and I'm so tired of reading, all by myself." "What would you like to do?" said the cuckoo. "You don't want to go to see the mandarins again?" "Oh no; I couldn't dance." "Or the mermaids down under the sea?" "Oh, dear, no," said Griselda, with a little shiver, "it would be far too cold. I would just like to stay where I am, if some one would tell me stories. I'm not even sure that I could listen to stories. What could you do to amuse me, cuckoo?" "Would you like to see some pictures?" said the cuckoo. "I could show you pictures without your taking any trouble." "Oh yes, that would be beautiful," cried Griselda. "What pictures will you show me? Oh, I know. I would like to see the place where you were born--where that very, very clever man made you and the clock, I mean." "Your great-great-grandfather," said the cuckoo. "Very well. Now, Griselda, shut your eyes. First of all, I am going to sing." Griselda shut her eyes, and the cuckoo began his song. It was something like what he had sung at the mandarins' palace, only even more beautiful. It was so soft and dreamy, Griselda felt as if she could have sat there for ever, listening to it. The first notes were low and murmuring. Again they made Griselda think of little rippling brooks in summer, and now and then there came a sort of hum as of insects buzzing in the warm sunshine near. This humming gradually increased, till at last Griselda was conscious of nothing more--_everything_ seemed to be humming, herself too, till at last she fell asleep. When she opened her eyes, the ante-room and everything in it, except the arm-chair on which she was still curled up, had disappeared--melted away into a misty cloud all round her, which in turn gradually faded, till before her she saw a scene quite new and strange. It was the first of the cuckoo's "pictures." An old, quaint room, with a high, carved mantelpiece, and a bright fire sparkling in the grate. It was not a pretty room--it had more the look of a workshop of some kind; but it was curious and interesting. All round, the walls were hung with clocks and strange mechanical toys. There was a fiddler slowly fiddling, a gentleman and lady gravely dancing a minuet, a little man drawing up water in a bucket out of a glass vase in which gold fish were swimming about--all sorts of queer figures; and the clocks were even queerer. There was one intended to represent the sun, moon, and planets, with one face for the sun and another for the moon, and gold and silver stars slowly circling round them; there was another clock with a tiny trumpeter perched on a ledge above the face, who blew a horn for the hours. I cannot tell you half the strange and wonderful things there were. Griselda was so interested in looking at all these queer machines, that she did not for some time observe the occupant of the room. And no wonder; he was sitting in front of a little table, so perfectly still, much more still than the un-living figures around him. He was examining, with a magnifying glass, some small object he held in his hand, so closely and intently that Griselda, forgetting she was only looking at a "picture," almost held her breath for fear she should disturb him. He was a very old man, his coat was worn and threadbare in several places, looking as if he spent a great part of his life in one position. Yet he did not look _poor_, and his face, when at last he lifted it, was mild and intelligent and very earnest. While Griselda was watching him closely there came a soft tap at the door, and a little girl danced into the room. The dearest little girl you ever saw, and _so_ funnily dressed! Her thick brown hair, rather lighter than Griselda's, was tied in two long plaits down her back. She had a short red skirt with silver braid round the bottom, and a white chemisette with beautiful lace at the throat and wrists, and over that again a black velvet bodice, also trimmed with silver. And she had a great many trinkets, necklaces, and bracelets, and ear-rings, and a sort of little silver coronet; no, it was not like a coronet, it was a band with a square piece of silver fastened so as to stand up at each side of her head something like a horse's blinkers, only they were not placed over her eyes. She made quite a jingle as she came into the room, and the old man looked up with a smile of pleasure. "Well, my darling, and are you all ready for your _fête_?" he said; and though the language in which he spoke was quite strange to Griselda, she understood his meaning perfectly well. "Yes, dear grandfather; and isn't my dress lovely?" said the child. "I should be _so_ happy if only you were coming too, and would get yourself a beautiful velvet coat like Mynheer van Huyten." The old man shook his head. "I have no time for such things, my darling," he replied; "and besides, I am too old. I must work--work hard to make money for my pet when I am gone, that she may not be dependent on the bounty of those English sisters." "But I won't care for money when you are gone, grandfather," said the child, her eyes filling with tears. "I would rather just go on living in this little house, and I am sure the neighbours would give me something to eat, and then I could hear all your clocks ticking, and think of you. I don't want you to sell all your wonderful things for money for me, grandfather. They would remind me of you, and money wouldn't." "Not all, Sybilla, not all," said the old man. "The best of all, the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of my life, shall not be sold. It shall be yours, and you will have in your possession a clock that crowned heads might seek in vain to purchase." His dim old eyes brightened, and for a moment he sat erect and strong. "Do you mean the cuckoo clock?" said Sybilla, in a low voice. "Yes, my darling, the cuckoo clock, the crowning work of my life--a clock that shall last long after I, and perhaps thou, my pretty child, are crumbling into dust; a clock that shall last to tell my great-grandchildren to many generations that the old Dutch mechanic was not altogether to be despised." Sybilla sprang into his arms. "You are not to talk like that, little grandfather," she said. "I shall teach my children and my grandchildren to be so proud of you--oh, so proud!--as proud as I am of you, little grandfather." "Gently, my darling," said the old man, as he placed carefully on the table the delicate piece of mechanism he held in his hand, and tenderly embraced the child. "Kiss me once again, my pet, and then thou must go; thy little friends will be waiting." * * * * * As he said these words the mist slowly gathered, again before Griselda's eyes--the first of the cuckoo's pictures faded from her sight. * * * * * When she looked again the scene was changed, but this time it was not a strange one, though Griselda had gazed at it for some moments before she recognized it. It was the great saloon, but it looked very different from what she had ever seen it. Forty years or so make a difference in rooms as well as in people! The faded yellow damask hangings were rich and brilliant. There were bouquets of lovely flowers arranged about the tables; wax lights were sending out their brightness in every direction, and the room was filled with ladies and gentlemen in gay attire. Among them, after a time, Griselda remarked two ladies, no longer very young, but still handsome and stately, and something whispered to her that they were her two aunts, Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha. "Poor aunts!" she said softly to herself; "how old they have grown since then." But she did not long look at them; her attention was attracted by a much younger lady--a mere girl she seemed, but oh, so sweet and pretty! She was dancing with a gentleman whose eyes looked as if they saw no one else, and she herself seemed brimming over with youth and happiness. Her very steps had joy in them. "Well, Griselda," whispered a voice, which she knew was the cuckoo's; "so you don't like to be told you are like your grandmother, eh?" Griselda turned round sharply to look for the speaker, but he was not to be seen. And when she turned again, the picture of the great saloon had faded away. * * * * * One more picture. Griselda looked again. She saw before her a country road in full summer time; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the trees covered with their bright green leaves--everything appeared happy and joyful. But at last in the distance she saw, slowly approaching, a group of a few people, all walking together, carrying in their centre something long and narrow, which, though the black cloth covering it was almost hidden by the white flowers with which it was thickly strewn, Griselda knew to be a coffin. It was a funeral procession, and in the place of chief mourner, with pale, set face, walked the same young man whom Griselda had last seen dancing with the girl Sybilla in the great saloon. The sad group passed slowly out of sight; but as it disappeared there fell upon the ear the sounds of sweet music, lovelier far than she had heard before--lovelier than the magic cuckoo's most lovely songs--and somehow, in the music, it seemed to the child's fancy there were mingled the soft strains of a woman's voice. "It is Sybilla singing," thought Griselda dreamily, and with that she fell asleep again. * * * * * When she woke she was in the arm-chair by the ante-room fire, everything around her looking just as usual, the cuckoo clock ticking away calmly and regularly. Had it been a dream only? Griselda could not make up her mind. "But I don't see that it matters if it was," she said to herself. "If it was a dream, the cuckoo sent it to me all the same, and I thank you very much indeed, cuckoo," she went on, looking up at the clock. "The last picture was rather sad, but still it was very nice to see it, and I thank you very much, and I'll never say again that I don't like to be told I'm like my dear pretty grandmother." The cuckoo took no notice of what she said, but Griselda did not mind. She was getting used to his "ways." "I expect he hears me quite well," she thought; "and even if he doesn't, it's only civil to _try_ to thank him." [Illustration: My aunts must have come back!] She sat still contentedly enough, thinking over what she had seen, and trying to make more "pictures" for herself in the fire. Then there came faintly to her ears the sound of carriage wheels, opening and shutting of doors, a little bustle of arrival. "My aunts must have come back," thought Griselda; and so it was. In a few minutes Miss Grizzel, closely followed by Miss Tabitha, appeared at the ante-room door. "Well, my love," said Miss Grizzel anxiously, "and how are you? Has the time seemed very long while we were away?" "Oh no, thank you, Aunt Grizzel," replied Griselda, "not at all. I've been quite happy, and my cold's ever so much better, and my headache's _quite_ gone." "Come, that is good news," said Miss Grizzel. "Not that I'm exactly _surprised_," she continued, turning to Miss Tabitha, "for there really is nothing like tansy tea for a feverish cold." "Nothing," agreed Miss Tabitha; "there really is nothing like it." "Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, after a few moments' silence, "was my grandmother quite young when she died?" "Yes, my love, very young," replied Miss Grizzel with a change in her voice. "And was her husband _very_ sorry?" pursued Griselda. "Heart-broken," said Miss Grizzel. "He did not live long after, and then you know, my dear, your father was sent to us to take care of. And now he has sent _you_--the third generation of young creatures confided to our care." "Yes," said Griselda. "My grandmother died in the summer, when all the flowers were out; and she was buried in a pretty country place, wasn't she?" "Yes," said Miss Grizzel, looking rather bewildered. "And when she was a little girl she lived with her grandfather, the old Dutch mechanic," continued Griselda, unconsciously using the very words she had heard in her vision. "He was a nice old man; and how clever of him to have made the cuckoo clock, and such lots of other pretty, wonderful things. I don't wonder little Sybilla loved him; he was so good to her. But, oh, Aunt Grizzel, _how_ pretty she was when she was a young lady! That time that she danced with my grandfather in the great saloon. And how very nice you and Aunt Tabitha looked then, too." Miss Grizzel held her very breath in astonishment; and no doubt if Miss Tabitha had known she was doing so, she would have held hers too. But Griselda lay still, gazing at the fire, quite unconscious of her aunt's surprise. "Your papa told you all these old stories, I suppose, my dear," said Miss Grizzel at last. "Oh no," said Griselda dreamily. "Papa never told me anything like that. Dorcas told me a very little, I think; at least, she made me want to know, and I asked the cuckoo, and then, you see, he showed me it all. It was so pretty." Miss Grizzel glanced at her sister. "Tabitha, my dear," she said in a low voice, "do you hear?" And Miss Tabitha, who really was not very deaf when she set herself to hear, nodded in awestruck silence. "Tabitha," continued Miss Grizzel in the same tone, "it is wonderful! Ah, yes, how true it is, Tabitha, that 'there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy'" (for Miss Grizzel was a well-read old lady, you see); "and from the very first, Tabitha, we always had a feeling that the child was strangely like Sybilla." "Strangely like Sybilla," echoed Miss Tabitha. "May she grow up as good, if not quite as beautiful--_that_ we could scarcely expect; and may she be longer spared to those that love her," added Miss Grizzel, bending over Griselda, while two or three tears slowly trickled down her aged cheeks. "See, Tabitha, the dear child is fast asleep. How sweet she looks! I trust by to-morrow morning she will be quite herself again: her cold is so much better." CHAPTER VI. RUBBED THE WRONG WAY. "For now and then there comes a day When everything goes wrong." Griselda's cold _was_ much better by "to-morrow morning." In fact, I might almost say it was quite well. But Griselda herself did not feel quite well, and saying this reminds me that it is hardly sense to speak of a _cold_ being better or well--for a cold's being "well" means that it is not there at all, out of existence, in short, and if a thing is out of existence how can we say anything about it? Children, I feel quite in a hobble--I cannot get my mind straight about it--please think it over and give me your opinion. In the meantime, I will go on about Griselda. She felt just a little ill--a sort of feeling that sometimes is rather nice, sometimes "very extremely" much the reverse! She felt in the humour for being petted, and having beef-tea, and jelly, and sponge cake with her tea, and for a day or two this was all very well. She _was_ petted, and she had lots of beef-tea, and jelly, and grapes, and sponge cakes, and everything nice, for her aunts, as you must have seen by this time, were really very, very kind to her in every way in which they understood how to be so. But after a few days of the continued petting, and the beef-tea and the jelly and all the rest of it, it occurred to Miss Grizzel, who had a good large bump of "common sense," that it might be possible to overdo this sort of thing. "Tabitha," she said to her sister, when they were sitting together in the evening after Griselda had gone to bed, "Tabitha, my dear, I think the child is quite well again now. It seems to me it would be well to send a note to good Mr. Kneebreeches, to say that she will be able to resume her studies the day after to-morrow." "The day after to-morrow," repeated Miss Tabitha. "The day after to-morrow--to say that she will be able to resume her studies the day after to-morrow--oh yes, certainly. It would be very well to send a note to good Mr. Kneebreeches, my dear Grizzel." "I thought you would agree with me," said Miss Grizzel, with a sigh of relief (as if poor Miss Tabitha during all the last half-century had ever ventured to do anything else), getting up to fetch her writing materials as she spoke. "It is such a satisfaction to consult together about what we do. I was only a little afraid of being hard upon the child, but as you agree with me, I have no longer any misgiving." "Any misgiving, oh dear, no!" said Miss Tabitha. "You have no reason for any misgiving, I am sure, my dear Grizzel." So the note was written and despatched, and the next morning when, about twelve o'clock, Griselda made her appearance in the little drawing-room where her aunts usually sat, looking, it must be confessed, very plump and rosy for an invalid, Miss Grizzel broached the subject. "I have written to request Mr. Kneebreeches to resume his instructions to-morrow," she said quietly. "I think you are quite well again now, so Dorcas must wake you at your usual hour." Griselda had been settling herself comfortably on a corner of the sofa. She had got a nice book to read, which her father, hearing of her illness, had sent her by post, and she was looking forward to the tempting plateful of jelly which Dorcas had brought her for luncheon every day since she had been ill. Altogether, she was feeling very "lazy-easy" and contented. Her aunt's announcement felt like a sudden downpour of cold water, or rush of east wind. She sat straight up in her sofa, and exclaimed in a tone of great annoyance-- "_Oh_, Aunt Grizzel!" "Well, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel, placidly. "I _wish_ you wouldn't make me begin lessons again just yet. I _know_ they'll make my head ache again, and Mr. Kneebreeches will be _so_ cross. I know he will, and he is so horrid when he is cross." "Hush!" said Miss Grizzel, holding up her hand in a way that reminded Griselda of the cuckoo's favourite "obeying orders." Just then, too, in the distance the ante-room clock struck twelve. "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" on it went. Griselda could have stamped with irritation, but _somehow_, in spite of herself, she felt compelled to say nothing. She muttered some not very pretty words, coiled herself round on the sofa, opened her book, and began to read. But it was not as interesting as she had expected. She had not read many pages before she began to yawn, and she was delighted to be interrupted by Dorcas and the jelly. But the jelly was not as nice as she had expected, either. She tasted it, and thought it was too sweet; and when she tasted it again, it seemed too strong of cinnamon; and the third taste seemed too strong of everything. She laid down her spoon, and looked about her discontentedly. "What is the matter, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel. "Is the jelly not to your liking?" "I don't know," said Griselda shortly. She ate a few spoonfuls, and then took up her book again. Miss Grizzel said nothing more, but to herself she thought that Mr. Kneebreeches had not been recalled any too soon. All day long it was much the same. Nothing seemed to come right to Griselda. It was a dull, cold day, what is called "a black frost;" not a bright, clear, _pretty_, cold day, but the sort of frost that really makes the world seem dead--makes it almost impossible to believe that there will ever be warmth and sound and "growing-ness" again. Late in the afternoon Griselda crept up to the ante-room, and sat down by the window. Outside it was nearly dark, and inside it was not much more cheerful--for the fire was nearly out, and no lamps were lighted; only the cuckoo clock went on tick-ticking briskly as usual. "I hate winter," said Griselda, pressing her cold little face against the colder window-pane, "I hate winter, and I hate lessons. I would give up being a _person_ in a minute if I might be a--a--what would I best like to be? Oh yes, I know--a butterfly. Butterflies never see winter, and they _certainly_ never have any lessons or any kind of work to do. I hate _must_-ing to do anything." "Cuckoo," rang out suddenly above her head. It was only four o'clock striking, and as soon as he had told it the cuckoo was back behind his doors again in an instant, just as usual. There was nothing for Griselda to feel offended at, but somehow she got quite angry. "I don't care what you think, cuckoo!" she exclaimed defiantly. "I know you came out on purpose just now, but I don't care. I _do_ hate winter, and I _do_ hate lessons, and I _do_ think it would be nicer to be a butterfly than a little girl." In her secret heart I fancy she was half in hopes that the cuckoo would come out again, and talk things over with her. Even if he were to scold her, she felt that it would be better than sitting there alone with nobody to speak to, which was very dull work indeed. At the bottom of her conscience there lurked the knowledge that what she _should_ be doing was to be looking over her last lessons with Mr. Kneebreeches, and refreshing her memory for the next day; but, alas! knowing one's duty is by no means the same thing as doing it, and Griselda sat on by the window doing nothing but grumble and work herself up into a belief that she was one of the most-to-be-pitied little girls in all the world. So that by the time Dorcas came to call her to tea, I doubt if she had a single pleasant thought or feeling left in her heart. Things grew no better after tea, and before long Griselda asked if she might go to bed. She was "so tired," she said; and she certainly looked so, for ill-humour and idleness are excellent "tirers," and will soon take the roses out of a child's cheeks, and the brightness out of her eyes. She held up her face to be kissed by her aunts in a meekly reproachful way, which made the old ladies feel quite uncomfortable. "I am by no means sure that I have done right in recalling Mr. Kneebreeches so soon, Sister Tabitha," remarked Miss Grizzel, uneasily, when Griselda had left the room. But Miss Tabitha was busy counting her stitches, and did not give full attention to Miss Grizzel's observation, so she just repeated placidly, "Oh yes, Sister Grizzel, you may be sure you have done right in recalling Mr. Kneebreeches." "I am glad you think so," said Miss Tabitha, with again a little sigh of relief. "I was only distressed to see the child looking so white and tired." Upstairs Griselda was hurry-scurrying into bed. There was a lovely fire in her room--fancy that! Was she not a poor neglected little creature? But even this did not please her. She was too cross to be pleased with anything; too cross to wash her face and hands, or let Dorcas brush her hair out nicely as usual; too cross, alas, to say her prayers! She just huddled into bed, huddling up her mind in an untidy hurry and confusion, just as she left her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor. She would not look into herself, was the truth of it; she shrank from doing so because she _knew_ things had been going on in that silly little heart of hers in a most unsatisfactory way all day, and she wanted to go to sleep and forget all about it. She did go to sleep, very quickly too. No doubt she really was tired; tired with crossness and doing nothing, and she slept very soundly. When she woke up she felt so refreshed and rested that she fancied it must be morning. It was dark, of course, but that was to be expected in mid-winter, especially as the shutters were closed. "I wonder," thought Griselda, "I wonder if it really _is_ morning. I should like to get up early--I went so early to bed. I think I'll just jump out of bed and open a chink of the shutters. I'll see at once if it's nearly morning, by the look of the sky." She was up in a minute, feeling her way across the room to the window, and without much difficulty she found the hook of the shutters, unfastened it, and threw one side open. Ah no, there was no sign of morning to be seen. There was moonlight, but nothing else, and not so very much of that, for the clouds were hurrying across the "orbèd maiden's" face at such a rate, one after the other, that the light was more like a number of pale flashes than the steady, cold shining of most frosty moonlight nights. There was going to be a change of weather, and the cloud armies were collecting together from all quarters; that was the real explanation of the hurrying and skurrying Griselda saw overhead, but this, of course, she did not understand. She only saw that it looked wild and stormy, and she shivered a little, partly with cold, partly with a half-frightened feeling that she could not have explained. "I had better go back to bed," she said to herself; "but I am not a bit sleepy." She was just drawing-to the shutter again, when something caught her eye, and she stopped short in surprise. A little bird was outside on the windowsill--a tiny bird crouching in close to the cold glass. Griselda's kind heart was touched in an instant. Cold as she was, she pushed back the shutter again, and drawing a chair forward to the window, managed to unfasten it--it was not a very heavy one--and to open it wide enough to slip her hand gently along to the bird. It did not start or move. "Can it be dead?" thought Griselda anxiously. But no, it was not dead. It let her put her hand round it and draw it in, and to her delight she felt that it was soft and warm, and it even gave a gentle peck on her thumb. "Poor little bird, how cold you must be," she said kindly. But, to her amazement, no sooner was the bird safely inside the room, than it managed cleverly to escape from her hand. It fluttered quietly up on to her shoulder, and sang out in a soft but cheery tone, "Cuckoo, cuckoo--cold, did you say, Griselda? Not so very, thank you." Griselda stept back from the window. "It's _you_, is it?" she said rather surlily, her tone seeming to infer that she had taken a great deal of trouble for nothing. "Of course it is, and why shouldn't it be? You're not generally so sorry to see me. What's the matter?" "Nothing's the matter," replied Griselda, feeling a little ashamed of her want of civility; "only, you see, if I had known it was _you_----" She hesitated. "You wouldn't have clambered up and hurt your poor fingers in opening the window if you had known it was me--is that it, eh?" said the cuckoo. Somehow, when the cuckoo said "eh?" like that, Griselda was obliged to tell just what she was thinking. "No, I wouldn't have _needed_ to open the window," she said. "_You_ can get in or out whenever you like; you're not like a real bird. Of course, you were just tricking me, sitting out there and pretending to be a starved robin." There was a little indignation in her voice, and she gave her head a toss, which nearly upset the cuckoo. "Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "You have a great deal to complain of, Griselda. Your time and strength must be very valuable for you to regret so much having wasted a little of them on me." Griselda felt her face grow red. What did he mean? Did he know how yesterday had been spent? She said nothing, but she drooped her head, and one or two tears came slowly creeping up to her eyes. "Child!" said the cuckoo, suddenly changing his tone, "you are very foolish. Is a kind thought or action _ever_ wasted? Can your eyes see what such good seeds grow into? They have wings, Griselda--kindnesses have wings and roots, remember that--wings that never droop, and roots that never die. What do you think I came and sat outside your window for?" "Cuckoo," said Griselda humbly, "I am very sorry." "Very well," said the cuckoo, "we'll leave it for the present. I have something else to see about. Are you cold, Griselda?" "_Very_," she replied. "I would very much like to go back to bed, cuckoo, if you please; and there's plenty of room for you too, if you'd like to come in and get warm." "There are other ways of getting warm besides going to bed," said the cuckoo. "A nice brisk walk, for instance. I was going to ask you to come out into the garden with me." Griselda almost screamed. "Out into the garden! _Oh_, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "how can you think of such a thing? Such a freezing cold night. Oh no, indeed, cuckoo, I couldn't possibly." "Very well, Griselda," said the cuckoo; "if you haven't yet learnt to trust me, there's no more to be said. Good-night." He flapped his wings, cried out "Cuckoo" once only, flew across the room, and almost before Griselda understood what he was doing, had disappeared. She hurried after him, stumbling against the furniture in her haste, and by the uncertain light. The door was not open, but the cuckoo had got through it--"by the keyhole, I dare say," thought Griselda; "he can 'scrooge' himself up any way"--for a faint "Cuckoo" was to be heard on its other side. In a moment Griselda had opened it, and was speeding down the long passage in the dark, guided only by the voice from time to time heard before her, "Cuckoo, cuckoo." She forgot all about the cold, or rather, she did not feel it, though the floor was of uncarpeted old oak, whose hard, polished surface would have usually felt like ice to a child's soft, bare feet. It was a very long passage, and to-night, somehow, it seemed longer than ever. In fact, Griselda could have fancied she had been running along it for half a mile or more, when at last she was brought to a standstill by finding she could go no further. Where was she? She could not imagine! It must be a part of the house she had never explored in the daytime, she decided. In front of her was a little stair running downwards, and ending in a doorway. All this Griselda could see by a bright light that streamed in by the keyhole and through the chinks round the door--a light so brilliant that the little girl blinked her eyes, and for a moment felt quite dazzled and confused. "It came so suddenly," she said to herself; "some one must have lighted a lamp in there all at once. But it can't be a lamp, it's too bright for a lamp. It's more like the sun; but how ever could the sun be shining in a room in the middle of the night? What shall I do? Shall I open the door and peep in?" "Cuckoo, cuckoo," came the answer, soft but clear, from the other side. "Can it be a trick of the cuckoo's to get me out into the garden?" thought Griselda; and for the first time since she had run out of her room a shiver of cold made her teeth chatter and her skin feel creepy. "Cuckoo, cuckoo," sounded again, nearer this time, it seemed to Griselda. "He's waiting for me. I _will_ trust him," she said resolutely. "He has always been good and kind, and it's horrid of me to think he's going to trick me." She ran down the little stair, she seized the handle of the door. It turned easily; the door opened--opened, and closed again noiselessly behind her, and what do you think she saw? "Shut your eyes for a minute, Griselda," said the cuckoo's voice beside her; "the light will dazzle you at first. Shut them, and I will brush them with a little daisy dew, to strengthen them." Griselda did as she was told. She felt the tip of the cuckoo's softest feather pass gently two or three times over her eyelids, and a delicious scent seemed immediately to float before her. "I didn't know _daisies_ had any scent," she remarked. "Perhaps you didn't. You forget, Griselda, that you have a great----" "Oh, please don't, cuckoo. Please, please don't, _dear_ cuckoo," she exclaimed, dancing about with her hands clasped in entreaty, but her eyes still firmly closed. "Don't say that, and I'll promise to believe whatever you tell me. And how soon may I open my eyes, please, cuckoo?" "Turn round slowly, three times. That will give the dew time to take effect," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one--two--three. There, now." Griselda opened her eyes. CHAPTER VII. BUTTERFLY-LAND. "I'd be a butterfly." Griselda opened her eyes. What did she see? The loveliest, loveliest garden that ever or never a little girl's eyes saw. As for describing it, I cannot. I must leave a good deal to your fancy. It was just a _delicious_ garden. There was a charming mixture of all that is needed to make a garden perfect--grass, velvety lawn rather; water, for a little brook ran tinkling in and out, playing bo-peep among the bushes; trees, of course, and flowers, of course, flowers of every shade and shape. But all these beautiful things Griselda did not at first give as much attention to as they deserved; her eyes were so occupied with a quite unusual sight that met them. This was butterflies! Not that butterflies are so very uncommon; but butterflies, as Griselda saw them, I am quite sure, children, none of you ever saw, or are likely to see. There were such enormous numbers of them, and the variety of their colours and sizes was so great. They were fluttering about everywhere; the garden seemed actually alive with them. Griselda stood for a moment in silent delight, feasting her eyes on the lovely things before her, enjoying the delicious sunshine which kissed her poor little bare feet, and seemed to wrap her all up in its warm embrace. Then she turned to her little friend. "Cuckoo," she said, "I thank you _so_ much. This _is_ fairyland, at last!" The cuckoo smiled, I was going to say, but that would be a figure of speech only, would it not? He shook his head gently. "No, Griselda," he said kindly; "this is only butterfly-land." "_Butterfly_-land!" repeated Griselda, with a little disappointment in her tone. "Well," said the cuckoo, "it's where you were wishing to be yesterday, isn't it?" Griselda did not particularly like these allusions to "yesterday." She thought it would be as well to change the subject. "It's a beautiful place, whatever it is," she said, "and I'm sure, cuckoo, I'm _very_ much obliged to you for bringing me here. Now may I run about and look at everything? How delicious it is to feel the warm sunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was. Look, cuckoo, my toes and fingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again. I suppose the sun always shines here. How nice it must be to be a butterfly; don't you think so, cuckoo? Nothing to do but fly about." She stopped at last, quite out of breath. "Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions, you must ask them one at a time. You may run about and look at everything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry. You will make a great many mistakes if you are--you have made some already." "How?" said Griselda. "_Have_ the butterflies nothing to do but fly about? Watch them." Griselda watched. "They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can't think what. They seem to be nibbling at the flowers, and then flying away something like bees gathering honey. _Butterflies_ don't gather honey, cuckoo?" "No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes." "What _do_ you mean?" said Griselda. "Come and see," said the cuckoo. He flew quietly along in front of her, leading the way through the prettiest paths in all the pretty garden. The paths were arranged in different colours, as it were; that is to say, the flowers growing along their sides were not all "mixty-maxty," but one shade after another in regular order--from the palest blush pink to the very deepest damask crimson; then, again, from the soft greenish blue of the small grass forget-me-not to the rich warm tinge of the brilliant cornflower. _Every_ tint was there; shades, to which, though not exactly strange to her, Griselda could yet have given no name, for the daisy dew, you see, had sharpened her eyes to observe delicate variations of colour, as she had never done before. "How beautifully the flowers are planned," she said to the cuckoo. "Is it just to look pretty, or why?" "It saves time," replied the cuckoo. "The fetch-and-carry butterflies know exactly where to go to for the tint the world-flower-painters want." "Who are the fetch-and-carry butterflies, and who are the world-flower-painters?" asked Griselda. "Wait a bit and you'll see, and use your eyes," answered the cuckoo. "It'll do your tongue no harm to have a rest now and then." Griselda thought it as well to take his advice, though not particularly relishing the manner in which it was given. She did use her eyes, and as she and the cuckoo made their way along the flower alleys, she saw that the butterflies were never idle. They came regularly, in little parties of twos and threes, and nibbled away, as she called it, at flowers of the same colour but different shades, till they had got what they wanted. Then off flew butterfly No. 1 with perhaps the palest tint of maize, or yellow, or lavender, whichever he was in quest of, followed by No. 2 with the next deeper shade of the same, and No. 3 bringing up the rear. Griselda gave a little sigh. "What's the matter?" said the cuckoo. "They work very hard," she replied, in a melancholy tone. "It's a busy time of year," observed the cuckoo, drily. After a while they came to what seemed to be a sort of centre to the garden. It was a huge glass house, with numberless doors, in and out of which butterflies were incessantly flying--reminding Griselda again of bees and a beehive. But she made no remark till the cuckoo spoke again. "Come in," he said. Griselda had to stoop a good deal, but she did manage to get in without knocking her head or doing any damage. Inside was just a mass of butterflies. A confused mass it seemed at first, but after a while she saw that it was the very reverse of confused. The butterflies were all settled in rows on long, narrow, white tables, and before each was a tiny object about the size of a flattened-out pin's head, which he was most carefully painting with one of his tentacles, which, from time to time, he moistened by rubbing it on the head of a butterfly waiting patiently behind him. Behind this butterfly again stood another, who after a while took his place, while the first attendant flew away. "To fill his paint-box again," remarked the cuckoo, who seemed to read Griselda's thoughts. "But what _are_ they painting, cuckoo?" she inquired eagerly. "All the flowers in the world," replied the cuckoo. "Autumn, winter, and spring, they're hard at work. It's only just for the three months of summer that the butterflies have any holiday, and then a few stray ones now and then wander up to the world, and people talk about 'idle butterflies'! And even then it isn't true that they are idle. They go up to take a look at the flowers, to see how their work has turned out, and many a damaged petal they repair, or touch up a faded tint, though no one ever knows it." "_I_ know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idle butterflies again--never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers _here_, too? What a _fearful_ lot they must have to do!" "No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. They never fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the colours of your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of course they don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slight contemptuous shrug of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the ugly things about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, to my thinking; people don't meddle with them in their stupid, clumsy way." "But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" asked Griselda. "They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you are asleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic stuff, you see, which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they are usually, Griselda, you couldn't even _see_ the petals the butterflies are painting now." "And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?" "No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that." "How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time to say more a sudden tumult filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time! "Are you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo. "Not so very," replied Griselda. "It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don't know that you'd be much the better for dinner here." "Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously. "What do they have for dinner? Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, of course--I don't think I should care to eat it alone." "You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he was interrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall, and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. They fluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited about something, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared. "Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda. "They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us to a banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit." "What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dear me," she went on, with a melancholy change of tone, "I was forgetting, cuckoo. I can't go to the banquet. I have nothing on but my night-gown. I never thought of it before, for I'm not a bit cold." "Never mind," said the cuckoo, "I'll soon have that put to rights." [Illustration: SHE LOOKED LIKE A FAIRY QUEEN.] He flew off, and was back almost immediately, followed by a whole flock of butterflies. They were of a smaller kind than Griselda had hitherto seen, and they were of two colours only; half were blue, half yellow. They flew up to Griselda, who felt for a moment as if she were really going to be suffocated by them, but only for a moment. There seemed a great buzz and flutter about her, and then the butterflies set to work to _dress_ her. And how do you think they dressed her? With _themselves_! They arranged themselves all over her in the cleverest way. One set of blue ones clustered round the hem of her little white night-gown, making a thick "_rûche_," as it were; and then there came two or three thinner rows of yellow, and then blue again. Round her waist they made the loveliest belt of mingled blue and yellow, and all over the upper part of her night-gown, in and out among the pretty white frills which Dorcas herself "goffered," so nicely, they made themselves into fantastic trimmings of every shape and kind; bows, rosettes--I cannot tell you what they did not imitate. Perhaps the prettiest ornament of all was the coronet or wreath they made of themselves for her head, dotting over her curly brown hair too with butterfly spangles, which quivered like dew-drops as she moved about. No one would have known Griselda; she looked like a fairy queen, or princess, at least, for even her little white feet had what _looked_ like butterfly shoes upon them, though these, you will understand, were only a sort of make-believe, as, of course, the shoes were soleless. "Now," said the cuckoo, when at last all was quiet again, and every blue and every yellow butterfly seemed settled in his place, "now, Griselda, come and look at yourself." He led the way to a marble basin, into which fell the waters of one of the tinkling brooks that were to be found everywhere about the garden, and bade Griselda look into the water mirror. It danced about rather; but still she was quite able to see herself. She peered in with great satisfaction, turning herself round so as to see first over one shoulder, then over the other. "It _is_ lovely," she said at last. "But, cuckoo, I'm just thinking--how shall I possibly be able to sit down without crushing ever so many?" "Bless you, you needn't trouble about that," said the cuckoo; "the butterflies are quite able to take care of themselves. You don't suppose you are the first little girl they have ever made a dress for?" Griselda said no more, but followed the cuckoo, walking rather "gingerly," notwithstanding his assurances that the butterflies could take care of themselves. At last the cuckoo stopped, in front of a sort of banked-up terrace, in the centre of which grew a strange-looking plant with large, smooth, spreading-out leaves, and on the two topmost leaves, their splendid wings glittering in the sunshine, sat two magnificent butterflies. They were many times larger than any Griselda had yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small beside them, and they were _so_ beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed. You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintest movement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisite than the last. Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by saying that they were like living rainbows. "Are those the king and queen?" asked Griselda in a whisper. "Yes," said the cuckoo. "Do you admire them?" "I should rather think I did," said Griselda. "But, cuckoo, do they never do anything but lie there in the sunshine?" "Oh, you silly girl," exclaimed the cuckoo, "always jumping at conclusions. No, indeed, that is not how they manage things in butterfly-land. The king and queen have worked harder than any other butterflies. They are chosen every now and then, out of all the others, as being the most industrious and the cleverest of all the world-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed on the finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see. But even now they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, and choose all the new colours." "Dear me!" said Griselda, under her breath, "how clever they must be." Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificent wings, and rose upwards, soaring proudly into the air. "Are they going away?" said Griselda in a disappointed tone. "Oh no," said the cuckoo; "they are welcoming you. Hold out your hands." Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky. In a minute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majestically circling downwards, till at length they alighted on Griselda's little hands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost covering her fingers with their great dazzling wings. "You _do_ look nice now," said the cuckoo, hopping back a few steps and looking up at Griselda approvingly; "but it's time for the feast to begin, as it won't do for us to be late." The king and queen appeared to understand. They floated away from Griselda's hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of a beautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grew the large-leaved plant. This was evidently their dining-room, for no sooner were they in their place than butterflies of every kind and colour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions. Butterflies small and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark; butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour--_every_ colour, and far, far more colours than you could possibly imagine. They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy dining-table, and in another minute a number of small white butterflies appeared, carrying among them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a drop of liquid. One of these was presented to the king, and then one to the queen, who each sniffed at their petal for an instant, and then passed it on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were handed to them, which they again passed on. "What are they doing, cuckoo?" said Griselda; "that's not _eating_." "It's their kind of eating," he replied. "They don't require any other kind of food than a sniff of perfume; and as there are perfumes extracted from every flower in butterfly-land, and there are far more flowers than you could count between now and Christmas, you must allow there is plenty of variety of dishes." "Um-m," said Griselda; "I suppose there is. But all the same, cuckoo, it's a very good thing I'm not hungry, isn't it? May I pour the scent on my pocket-handkerchief when it comes round to me? I have my handkerchief here, you see. Isn't it nice that I brought it? It was under my pillow, and I wrapped it round my hand to open the shutter, for the hook scratched it once." "You may pour one drop on your handkerchief," said the cuckoo, "but not more. I shouldn't like the butterflies to think you greedy." But Griselda grew very tired of the scent feast long before all the petals had been passed round. The perfumes were very nice, certainly, but there were such quantities of them--double quantities in honour of the guest, of course! Griselda screwed up her handkerchief into a tight little ball, so that the one drop of scent should not escape from it, and then she kept sniffing at it impatiently, till at last the cuckoo asked her what was the matter. "I am so tired of the feast," she said. "Do let us do something else, cuckoo." "It is getting rather late," said the cuckoo. "But see, Griselda, they are going to have an air-dance now." "What's that?" said Griselda. "Look, and you'll see," he replied. Flocks and flocks of butterflies were rising a short way into the air, and there arranging themselves in bands according to their colours. "Come up on to the bank," said the cuckoo to Griselda; "you'll see them better." Griselda climbed up the bank, and as from there she could look down on the butterfly show, she saw it beautifully. The long strings of butterflies twisted in and out of each other in the most wonderful way, like ribbons of every hue plaiting themselves and then in an instant unplaiting themselves again. Then the king and queen placed themselves in the centre, and round and round in moving circles twisted and untwisted the brilliant bands of butterflies. "It's like a kaleidoscope," said Griselda; "and now it's like those twisty-twirly dissolving views that papa took me to see once. It's _just_ like them. Oh, how pretty! Cuckoo, are they doing it all on purpose to please me?" "A good deal," said the cuckoo. "Stand up and clap your hands loud three times, to show them you're pleased." Griselda obeyed. "Clap" number one--all the butterflies rose up into the air in a cloud; clap number two--they all fluttered and twirled and buzzed about, as if in the greatest excitement; clap number three--they all turned in Griselda's direction with a rush. "They're going to kiss you, Griselda," cried the cuckoo. Griselda felt her breath going. Up above her was the vast feathery cloud of butterflies, fluttering, _rushing_ down upon her. "Cuckoo, cuckoo," she screamed, "they'll suffocate me. Oh, cuckoo!" "Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud," called out the cuckoo. And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precious handkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry, "Cuckoo, cuckoo." _Clap_--where were they all? Griselda opened her eyes--garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all had disappeared. She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door with the hot water. "Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning, missie," she said. "I hope you don't feel too tired to get up." "Tired! I should think not," replied Griselda. "I was awake this morning ages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas. Come here for a minute, Dorcas, please," she went on. "There now, sniff my handkerchief. What do you think of that?" "It's beautiful," said Dorcas. "It's out of the big blue chinay bottle on your auntie's table, isn't it, missie?" "Stuff and nonsense," replied Griselda; "it's scent of my own, Dorcas. Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life. There now! Please give me my slippers, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr. Kneebreeches before he comes. Dear me," she added to herself, as she was putting on her slippers, "how pretty my feet did look with the blue butterfly shoes! It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but I don't think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know how hard they work! But I'd like to do my lessons well to-day. I fancy it'll please the dear old cuckoo." CHAPTER VIII. MASTER PHIL. "Who comes from the world of flowers? Daisy and crocus, and sea-blue bell, And violet shrinking in dewy cell-- Sly cells that know the secrets of night, When earth is bathed in fairy light-- Scarlet, and blue, and golden flowers." And so Mr. Kneebreeches had no reason to complain of his pupil that day. And Miss Grizzel congratulated herself more heartily than ever on her wise management of children. And Miss Tabitha repeated that Sister Grizzel might indeed congratulate herself. And Griselda became gradually more and more convinced that the only way as yet discovered of getting through hard tasks is to set to work and do them; also, that grumbling, as things are at present arranged in this world, does not _always_, nor I may say _often_, do good; furthermore, that an ill-tempered child is not, on the whole, likely to be as much loved as a good-tempered one; lastly, that if you wait long enough, winter will go and spring will come. For this was the case this year, after all! Spring had only been sleepy and lazy, and in such a case what could poor old winter do but fill the vacant post till she came? Why he should be so scolded and reviled for faithfully doing his best, as he often is, I really don't know. Not that all the ill words he gets have much effect on him--he comes again just as usual, whatever we say of or to him. I suppose his feelings have long ago been frozen up, or surely before this he would have taken offence--well for us that he has not done so! But when the spring did come at last this year, it would be impossible for me to tell you how Griselda enjoyed it. It was like new life to her as well as to the plants, and flowers, and birds, and insects. Hitherto, you see, she had been able to see very little of the outside of her aunt's house; and charming as the inside was, the outside, I must say, was still "charminger." There seemed no end to the little up-and-down paths and alleys, leading to rustic seats and quaint arbours; no limits to the little pine-wood, down into which led the dearest little zig-zaggy path you ever saw, all bordered with snow-drops and primroses and violets, and later on with periwinkles, and wood anemones, and those bright, starry, white flowers, whose name no two people agree about. This wood-path was the place, I think, which Griselda loved the best. The bowling-green was certainly very delightful, and so was the terrace where the famous roses grew; but lovely as the roses were (I am speaking just now, of course, of later on in the summer, when they were all in bloom), Griselda could not enjoy them as much as the wild-flowers, for she was forbidden to gather or touch them, except with her funny round nose! "You may _scent_ them, my dear," said Miss Grizzel, who was of opinion that smell was not a pretty word; "but I cannot allow anything more." And Griselda did "scent" them, I assure you. She burrowed her whole rosy face in the big ones; but gently, for she did not want to spoil them, both for her aunt's sake, and because, too, she had a greater regard for flowers now that she knew the secret of how they were painted, and what a great deal of trouble the butterflies take about them. But after a while one grows tired of "scenting" roses; and even the trying to walk straight across the bowling-green with her eyes shut, from the arbour at one side to the arbour exactly like it at the other, grew stupid, though no doubt it would have been capital fun with a companion to applaud or criticize. So the wood-path became Griselda's favourite haunt. As the summer grew on, she began to long more than ever for a companion--not so much for play, as for some one to play with. She had lessons, of course, just as many as in the winter; but with the long days, there seemed to come a quite unaccountable increase of play-time, and Griselda sometimes found it hang heavy on her hands. She had not seen or heard anything of the cuckoo either, save, of course, in his "official capacity" of time-teller, for a very long time. "I suppose," she thought, "he thinks I don't need amusing, now that the fine days are come and I can play in the garden; and certainly, if I had _any one_ to play with, the garden would be perfectly lovely." But, failing companions, she did the best she could for herself, and this was why she loved the path down into the wood so much. There was a sort of mystery about it; it might have been the path leading to the cottage of Red-Ridinghood's grandmother, or a path leading to fairyland itself. There were all kinds of queer, nice, funny noises to be heard there--in one part of it especially, where Griselda made herself a seat of some moss-grown stones, and where she came so often that she got to know all the little flowers growing close round about, and even the particular birds whose nests were hard by. She used to sit there and _fancy_--fancy that she heard the wood-elves chattering under their breath, or the little underground gnomes and kobolds hammering at their fairy forges. And the tinkling of the brook in the distance sounded like the enchanted bells round the necks of the fairy kine, who are sent out to pasture sometimes on the upper world hill-sides. For Griselda's head was crammed full, perfectly full, of fairy lore; and the mandarins' country, and butterfly-land, were quite as real to her as the every-day world about her. But all this time she was not forgotten by the cuckoo, as you will see. One day she was sitting in her favourite nest, feeling, notwithstanding the sunshine, and the flowers, and the soft sweet air, and the pleasant sounds all about, rather dull and lonely. For though it was only May, it was really quite a hot day, and Griselda had been all the morning at her lessons, and had tried very hard, and done them very well, and now she felt as if she deserved some reward. Suddenly in the distance, she heard a well-known sound, "Cuckoo, cuckoo." "Can that be the cuckoo?" she said to herself; and in a moment she felt sure that it must be. For, for some reason that I do not know enough about the habits of real "flesh and blood" cuckoos to explain, that bird was not known in the neighbourhood where Griselda's aunts lived. Some twenty miles or so further south it was heard regularly, but all this spring Griselda had never caught the sound of its familiar note, and she now remembered hearing it never came to these parts. So, "it must be my cuckoo," she said to herself. "He must be coming out to speak to me. How funny! I have never seen him by daylight." She listened. Yes, again there it was, "Cuckoo, cuckoo," as plain as possible, and nearer than before. "Cuckoo," cried Griselda, "do come and talk to me. It's such a long time since I have seen you, and I have nobody to play with." But there was no answer. Griselda held her breath to listen, but there was nothing to be heard. "Unkind cuckoo!" she exclaimed. "He is tricking me, I do believe; and to-day too, just when I was so dull and lonely." The tears came into her eyes, and she was beginning to think herself very badly used, when suddenly a rustling in the bushes beside her made her turn round, more than half expecting to see the cuckoo himself. But it was not he. The rustling went on for a minute or two without anything making its appearance, for the bushes were pretty thick just there, and any one scrambling up from the pinewood below would have had rather hard work to get through, and indeed for a very big person such a feat would have been altogether impossible. It was not a very big person, however, who was causing all the rustling, and crunching of branches, and general commotion, which now absorbed Griselda's attention. She sat watching for another minute in perfect stillness, afraid of startling by the slightest movement the squirrel or rabbit or creature of some kind which she expected to see. At last--was that a squirrel or rabbit--that rosy, round face, with shaggy, fair hair falling over the eager blue eyes, and a general look of breathlessness and over-heatedness and determination? A squirrel or a rabbit! No, indeed, but a very sturdy, very merry, very ragged little boy. "Where are that cuckoo? Does _you_ know?" were the first words he uttered, as soon as he had fairly shaken himself, though not by any means all his clothes, free of the bushes (for ever so many pieces of jacket and knickerbockers, not to speak of one boot and half his hat, had been left behind on the way), and found breath to say something. [Illustration: "WHERE ARE THAT CUCKOO?"] Griselda stared at him for a moment without speaking. She was so astonished. It was months since she had spoken to a child, almost since she had seen one, and about children younger than herself she knew very little at any time, being the baby of the family at home, you see, and having only big brothers older than herself for play-fellows. "Who are you?" she said at last. "What's your name, and what do you want?" "My name's Master Phil, and I want that cuckoo," answered the little boy. "He camed up this way. I'm sure he did, for he called me all the way." "He's not here," said Griselda, shaking her head; "and this is my aunts' garden. No one is allowed to come here but friends of theirs. You had better go home; and you have torn your clothes so." "This aren't a garden," replied the little fellow undauntedly, looking round him; "this are a wood. There are blue-bells and primroses here, and that shows it aren't a garden--not anybody's garden, I mean, with walls round, for nobody to come in." "But it _is_," said Griselda, getting rather vexed. "If it isn't a garden it's _grounds_, private grounds, and nobody should come without leave. This path leads down to the wood, and there's a door in the wall at the bottom to get into the lane. You may go down that way, little boy. No one comes scrambling up the way you did." "But I want to find the cuckoo," said the little boy. "I do so want to find the cuckoo." His voice sounded almost as if he were going to cry, and his pretty, hot, flushed face puckered up. Griselda's heart smote her; she looked at him more carefully. He was such a very little boy, after all; she did not like to be cross to him. "How old are you?" she asked. "Five and a bit. I had a birthday after the summer, and if I'm good, nurse says perhaps I'll have one after next summer too. Do you ever have birthdays?" he went on, peering up at Griselda. "Nurse says she used to when she was young, but she never has any now." "_Have_ you a nurse?" asked Griselda, rather surprised; for, to tell the truth, from "Master Phil's" appearance, she had not felt at all sure what _sort_ of little boy he was, or rather what sort of people he belonged to. "Of course I have a nurse, and a mother too," said the little boy, opening wide his eyes in surprise at the question. "Haven't you? Perhaps you're too big, though. People leave off having nurses and mothers when they're big, don't they? Just like birthdays. But _I_ won't. I won't never leave off having a mother, any way. I don't care so much about nurse and birthdays, not _kite_ so much. Did you care when you had to leave off, when you got too big?" "I hadn't to leave off because I got big," said Griselda sadly. "I left off when I was much littler than you," she went on, unconsciously speaking as Phil would best understand her. "My mother died." "I'm werry sorry," said Phil; and the way in which he said it quite overcame Griselda's unfriendliness. "But perhaps you've a nice nurse. My nurse is rather nice; but she _will_ 'cold me to-day, won't she?" he added, laughing, pointing to the terrible rents in his garments. "These are my very oldestest things; that's a good thing, isn't it? Nurse says I don't look like Master Phil in these, but when I have on my blue welpet, then I look like Master Phil. I shall have my blue welpet when mother comes." "Is your mother away?" said Griselda. "Oh yes, she's been away a long time; so nurse came here to take care of me at the farmhouse, you know. Mother was ill, but she's better now, and some day she'll come too." "Do you like being at the farmhouse? Have you anybody to play with?" said Griselda. Phil shook his curly head. "I never have anybody to play with," he said. "I'd like to play with you if you're not too big. And do you think you could help me to find the cuckoo?" he added insinuatingly. "What do you know about the cuckoo?" said Griselda. "He called me," said Phil, "he called me lots of times; and to-day nurse was busy, so I thought I'd come. And do you know," he added mysteriously, "I do believe the cuckoo's a fairy, and when I find him I'm going to ask him to show me the way to fairyland." "He says we must all find the way ourselves," said Griselda, quite forgetting to whom she was speaking. "_Does_ he?" cried Phil, in great excitement. "Do you know him, then? and have you asked him? Oh, do tell me." Griselda recollected herself. "You couldn't understand," she said. "Some day perhaps I'll tell you--I mean if ever I see you again." "But I may see you again," said Phil, settling himself down comfortably beside Griselda on her mossy stone. "You'll let me come, won't you? I like to talk about fairies, and nurse doesn't understand. And if the cuckoo knows you, perhaps that's why he called me to come to play with you." "How did he call you?" asked Griselda. "First," said Phil gravely, "it was in the night. I was asleep, and I had been wishing I had somebody to play with, and then I d'eamed of the cuckoo--such a nice d'eam. And when I woke up I heard him calling me, and I wasn't d'eaming then. And then when I was in the field he called me, but I _couldn't_ find him, and nurse said 'Nonsense.' And to-day he called me again, so I camed up through the bushes. And mayn't I come again? Perhaps if we both tried together we could find the way to fairyland. Do you think we could?" "I don't know," said Griselda, dreamily. "There's a great deal to learn first, the cuckoo says." "Have you learnt a great deal?" (he called it "a gate deal") asked Phil, looking up at Griselda with increased respect. "_I_ don't know scarcely nothing. Mother was ill such a long time before she went away, but I know she wanted me to learn to read books. But nurse is too old to teach me." "Shall I teach you?" said Griselda. "I can bring some of my old books and teach you here after I have done my own lessons." "And then mother _would_ be surprised when she comes back," said Master Phil, clapping his hands. "Oh, _do_. And when I've learnt to read a great deal, do you think the cuckoo would show us the way to fairyland?" "I don't think it was that sort of learning he meant," said Griselda. "But I dare say that would help. I _think_," she went on, lowering her voice a little, and looking down gravely into Phil's earnest eyes, "I _think_ he means mostly learning to be very good--very, _very_ good, you know." "Gooder than you?" said Phil. "Oh dear, yes; lots and lots gooder than me," replied Griselda. "_I_ think you're very good," observed Phil, in a parenthesis. Then he went on with his cross-questioning. "Gooder than mother?" "I don't know your mother, so how can I tell how good she is?" said Griselda. "_I_ can tell you," said Phil, importantly. "She is just as good as--as good as--as good as _good_. That's what she is." "You mean she couldn't be better," said Griselda, smiling. "Yes, that'll do, if you like. Would that be good enough for us to be, do you think?" "We must ask the cuckoo," said Griselda. "But I'm sure it would be a good thing for you to learn to read. You must ask your nurse to let you come here every afternoon that it's fine, and I'll ask my aunt." "I needn't ask nurse," said Phil composedly; "she'll never know where I am, and I needn't tell her. She doesn't care what I do, except tearing my clothes; and when she scolds me, _I_ don't care." "_That_ isn't good, Phil," said Griselda gravely. "You'll never be as good as good if you speak like that." "What should I say, then? Tell me," said the little boy submissively. "You should ask nurse to let you come to play with me, and tell her I'm much bigger than you, and I won't let you tear your clothes. And you should tell her you're very sorry you've torn them to-day." "Very well," said Phil, "I'll say that. But, oh see!" he exclaimed, darting off, "there's a field mouse! If only I could catch him!" Of course he couldn't catch him, nor could Griselda either; very ready, though, she was to do her best. But it was great fun all the same, and the children laughed heartily and enjoyed themselves tremendously. And when they were tired they sat down again and gathered flowers for nosegays, and Griselda was surprised to find how clever Phil was about it. He was much quicker than she at spying out the prettiest blossoms, however hidden behind tree, or stone, or shrub. And he told her of all the best places for flowers near by, and where grew the largest primroses and the sweetest violets, in a way that astonished her. "You're such a little boy," she said; "how do you know so much about flowers?" "I've had no one else to play with," he said innocently. "And then, you know, the fairies are so fond of them." When Griselda thought it was time to go home, she led little Phil down the wood-path, and through the door in the wall opening on to the lane. "Now you can find your way home without scrambling through any more bushes, can't you, Master Phil?" she said. "Yes, thank you, and I'll come again to that place to-morrow afternoon, shall I?" asked Phil. "I'll know when--after I've had my dinner and raced three times round the big field, then it'll be time. That's how it was to-day." "I should think it would do if you _walked_ three times--or twice if you like--round the field. It isn't a good thing to race just when you've had your dinner," observed Griselda sagely. "And you mustn't try to come if it isn't fine, for my aunts won't let me go out if it rains even the tiniest bit And of course you must ask your nurse's leave." "Very well," said little Phil as he trotted off. "I'll try to remember all those things. I'm so glad you'll play with me again; and if you see the cuckoo, please thank him." CHAPTER IX. UP AND DOWN THE CHIMNEY. "_Helper_. Well, but if it was all dream, it would be the same as if it was all real, would it not? "_Keeper_. Yes, I see. I mean, Sir, I do _not_ see."--_A Liliput Revel_. _Not_ having "just had her dinner," and feeling very much inclined for her tea, Griselda ran home at a great rate. She felt, too, in such good spirits; it had been so delightful to have a companion in her play. "What a good thing it was I didn't make Phil run away before I found out what a nice little boy he was," she said to herself. "I must look out my old reading books to-night. I shall so like teaching him, poor little boy, and the cuckoo will be pleased at my doing something useful, I'm sure." Tea was quite ready, in fact waiting for her, when she came in. This was a meal she always had by herself, brought up on a tray to Dorcas's little sitting-room, where Dorcas waited upon her. And sometimes when Griselda was in a particularly good humour she would beg Dorcas to sit down and have a cup of tea with her--a liberty the old servant was far too dignified and respectful to have thought of taking, unless specially requested to do so. This evening, as you know, Griselda was in a very particularly good humour, and besides this, so very full of her adventures, that she would have been glad of an even less sympathising listener than Dorcas was likely to be. "Sit down, Dorcas, and have some more tea, do," she said coaxingly. "It looks ever so much more comfortable, and I'm sure you could eat a little more if you tried, whether you've had your tea in the kitchen or not. I'm _fearfully_ hungry, I can tell you. You'll have to cut a whole lot more bread and butter, and not 'ladies' slices' either." "How your tongue does go, to be sure, Miss Griselda," said Dorcas, smiling, as she seated herself on the chair Griselda had drawn in for her. "And why shouldn't it?" said Griselda saucily. "It doesn't do it any harm. But oh, Dorcas, I've had such fun this afternoon--really, you couldn't guess what I've been doing." "Very likely not, missie," said Dorcas. "But you might try to guess. Oh no, I don't think you need--guessing takes such a time, and I want to tell you. Just fancy, Dorcas, I've been playing with a little boy in the wood." "Playing with a little boy, Miss Griselda!" exclaimed Dorcas, aghast. "Yes, and he's coming again to-morrow, and the day after, and every day, I dare say," said Griselda. "He _is_ such a nice little boy." "But, missie," began Dorcas. "Well? What's the matter? You needn't look like that--as if I had done something naughty," said Griselda sharply. "But you'll tell your aunt, missie?" "Of course," said Griselda, looking up fearlessly into Dorcas's face with her bright grey eyes. "Of course; why shouldn't I? I must ask her to give the little boy leave to come into _our_ grounds; and I told the little boy to be sure to tell his nurse, who takes care of him, about his playing with me." "His nurse," repeated Dorcas, in a tone of some relief. "Then he must be quite a little boy, perhaps Miss Grizzel would not object so much in that case." "Why should she object at all? She might know I wouldn't want to play with a naughty rude boy," said Griselda. "She thinks all boys rude and naughty, I'm afraid, missie," said Dorcas. "All, that is to say, excepting your dear papa. But then, of course, she had the bringing up of _him_ in her own way from the beginning." "Well, I'll ask her, any way," said Griselda, "and if she says I'm not to play with him, I shall think--I know what I shall _think_ of Aunt Grizzel, whether I _say_ it or not." And the old look of rebellion and discontent settled down again on her rosy face. "Be careful, missie, now do, there's a dear good girl," said Dorcas anxiously, an hour later, when Griselda, dressed as usual in her little white muslin frock, was ready to join her aunts at dessert. But Griselda would not condescend to make any reply. "Aunt Grizzel," she said suddenly, when she had eaten an orange and three biscuits and drunk half a glass of home-made elderberry wine, "Aunt Grizzel, when I was out in the garden to-day--down the wood-path, I mean--I met a little boy, and he played with me, and I want to know if he may come every day to play with me." Griselda knew she was not making her request in a very amiable or becoming manner; she knew, indeed, that she was making it in such a way as was almost certain to lead to its being refused; and yet, though she was really so very, very anxious to get leave to play with little Phil, she took a sort of spiteful pleasure in injuring her own cause. How _foolish_ ill-temper makes us! Griselda had allowed herself to get so angry at the _thought_ of being thwarted that had her aunt looked up quietly and said at once, "Oh yes, you may have the little boy to play with you whenever you like," she would really, in a strange distorted sort of way, have been _disappointed_. But, of course, Miss Grizzel made no such reply. Nothing less than a miracle could have made her answer Griselda otherwise than as she did. Like Dorcas, for an instant, she was utterly "flabbergasted," if you know what that means. For she was really quite an old lady, you know, and sensible as she was, things upset her much more easily than when she was younger. Naughty Griselda saw her uneasiness, and enjoyed it. "Playing with a boy!" exclaimed Miss Grizzel. "A boy in my grounds, and you, my niece, to have played with him!" "Yes," said Griselda coolly, "and I want to play with him again." "Griselda," said her aunt, "I am too astonished to say more at present. Go to bed." "Why should I go to bed? It is not my bed-time," cried Griselda, blazing up. "What have I done to be sent to bed as if I were in disgrace?" "Go to bed," repeated Miss Grizzel. "I will speak to you to-morrow." "You are very unfair and unjust," said Griselda, starting up from her chair. "That's all the good of being honest and telling everything. I might have played with the little boy every day for a month and you would never have known, if I hadn't told you." She banged across the room as she spoke, and out at the door, slamming it behind her rudely. Then upstairs like a whirlwind; but when she got to her own room, she sat down on the floor and burst into tears, and when Dorcas came up, nearly half an hour later, she was still in the same place, crouched up in a little heap, sobbing bitterly. "Oh, missie, missie," said Dorcas, "it's just what I was afraid of!" As Griselda rushed out of the room Miss Grizzel leant back in her chair and sighed deeply. "Already," she said faintly. "She was never so violent before. Can one afternoon's companionship with rudeness have already contaminated her? Already, Tabitha--can it be so?" "Already," said Miss Tabitha, softly shaking her head, which somehow made her look wonderfully like an old cat, for she felt cold of an evening and usually wore a very fine woolly shawl of a delicate grey shade, and the borders of her cap and the ruffles round her throat and wrists were all of fluffy, downy white--"already," she said. "Yet," said Miss Grizzel, recovering herself a little, "it is true what the child said. She might have deceived us. Have I been hard upon her, Sister Tabitha?" "Hard upon her! Sister Grizzel," said Miss Tabitha with more energy than usual; "no, certainly not. For once, Sister Grizzel, I disagree with you. Hard upon her! Certainly not." But Miss Grizzel did not feel happy. When she went up to her own room at night she was surprised to find Dorcas waiting for her, instead of the younger maid. "I thought you would not mind having me, instead of Martha, to-night, ma'am," she said, "for I did so want to speak to you about Miss Griselda. The poor, dear young lady has gone to bed so very unhappy." "But do you know what she has done, Dorcas?" said Miss Grizzel. "Admitted a _boy_, a rude, common, impertinent _boy_, into my precincts, and played with him--with a _boy_, Dorcas." "Yes, ma'am," said Dorcas. "I know all about it, ma'am. Miss Griselda has told me all. But if you would allow me to give an opinion, it isn't quite so bad. He's quite a little boy, ma'am--between five and six--only just about the age Miss Griselda's dear papa was when he first came to us, and, by all I can hear, quite a little gentleman." "A little gentleman," repeated Miss Grizzel, "and not six years old! That is less objectionable than I expected. What is his name, as you know so much, Dorcas?" "Master Phil," replied Dorcas. "That is what he told Miss Griselda, and she never thought to ask him more. But I'll tell you how we could get to hear more about him, I think, ma'am. From what Miss Griselda says, I believe he is staying at Mr. Crouch's farm, and that, you know, ma'am, belongs to my Lady Lavander, though it is a good way from Merrybrow Hall. My lady is pretty sure to know about the child, for she knows all that goes on among her tenants, and I remember hearing that a little gentleman and his nurse had come to Mr. Crouch's to lodge for six months." Miss Grizzel listened attentively. "Thank you, Dorcas," she said, when the old servant had left off speaking. "You have behaved with your usual discretion. I shall drive over to Merrybrow to-morrow, and make inquiry. And you may tell Miss Griselda in the morning what I purpose doing; but tell her also that, as a punishment for her rudeness and ill-temper, she must have breakfast in her own room to-morrow, and not see me till I send for her. Had she restrained her temper and explained the matter, all this distress might have been saved." Dorcas did not wait till "to-morrow morning;" she could not bear to think of Griselda's unhappiness. From her mistress's room she went straight to the little girl's, going in very softly, so as not to disturb her should she be sleeping. "Are you awake, missie?" she said gently. Griselda started up. "Yes," she exclaimed. "Is it you, cuckoo? I'm quite awake." "Bless the child," said Dorcas to herself, "how her head does run on Miss Sybilla's cuckoo. It's really wonderful. There's more in such things than some people think." But aloud she only replied-- "It's Dorcas, missie. No fairy, only old Dorcas come to comfort you a bit. Listen, missie. Your auntie is going over to Merrybrow Hall to-morrow to inquire about this little Master Phil from my Lady Lavander, for we think it's at one of her ladyship's farms that he and his nurse are staying, and if she hears that he's a nice-mannered little gentleman, and comes of good parents--why, missie, there's no saying but that you'll get leave to play with him as much as you like." "But not to-morrow, Dorcas," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel never goes to Merrybrow till the afternoon. She won't be back in time for me to play with Phil to-morrow." "No, but next day, perhaps," said Dorcas. "Oh, but that won't do," said Griselda, beginning to cry again. "Poor little Phil will be coming up to the wood-path _to-morrow_, and if he doesn't find me, he'll be _so_ unhappy--perhaps he'll never come again if I don't meet him to-morrow." Dorcas saw that the little girl was worn out and excited, and not yet inclined to take a reasonable view of things. "Go to sleep, missie," she said kindly, "and don't think anything more about it till to-morrow It'll be all right, you'll see." Her patience touched Griselda. "You are very kind, Dorcas," she said. "I don't mean to be cross to _you_; but I can't bear to think of poor little Phil. Perhaps he'll sit down on my mossy stone and cry. Poor little Phil!" But notwithstanding her distress, when Dorcas had left her she did feel her heart a little lighter, and somehow or other before long she fell asleep. When she awoke it seemed to be suddenly, and she had the feeling that something had disturbed her. She lay for a minute or two perfectly still--listening. Yes; there it was--the soft, faint rustle in the air that she knew so well. It seemed as if something was moving away from her. "Cuckoo," she said gently, "is that you?" A moment's pause, then came the answer--the pretty greeting she expected. "Cuckoo, cuckoo," soft and musical. Then the cuckoo spoke. "Well, Griselda," he said, "and how are you? It's a good while since we have had any fun together." "That's not _my_ fault," said Griselda sharply. She was not yet feeling quite as amiable as might have been desired, you see. "That's _certainly_ not my fault," she repeated. "I never said it was," replied the cuckoo. "Why will you jump at conclusions so? It's a very bad habit, for very often you jump _over_ them, you see, and go too far. One should always _walk_ up to conclusions, very slowly and evenly, right foot first, then left, one with another--that's the way to get where you want to go, and feel sure of your ground. Do you see?" "I don't know whether I do or not, and I'm not going to speak to you if you go on at me like that. You might see I don't want to be lectured when I am so unhappy." "What are you unhappy about?" "About Phil, of course. I won't tell you, for I believe you know," said Griselda. "Wasn't it you that sent him to play with me? I was so pleased, and I thought it was very kind of you; but it's all spoilt now." "But I heard Dorcas saying that your aunt is going over to consult my Lady Lavander about it," said the cuckoo. "It'll be all right; you needn't be in such low spirits about nothing." "Were you in the room _then_?" said Griselda. "How funny you are, cuckoo. But it isn't all right. Don't you see, poor little Phil will be coming up the wood-path to-morrow afternoon to meet me, and I won't be there! I can't bear to think of it." "Is that all?" said the cuckoo. "It really is extraordinary how some people make troubles out of nothing! We can easily tell Phil not to come till the day after. Come along." "Come along," repeated Griselda; "what do you mean?" "Oh, I forgot," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Put out your hand. There, do you feel me?" "Yes," said Griselda, stroking gently the soft feathers which seemed to be close under her hand. "Yes, I feel you." "Well, then," said the cuckoo, "put your arms round my neck, and hold me firm. I'll lift you up." "How _can_ you talk such nonsense, cuckoo?" said Griselda. "Why, one of my little fingers would clasp your neck. How can I put my arms round it?" "Try," said the cuckoo. Somehow Griselda had to try. She held out her arms in the cuckoo's direction, as if she expected his neck to be about the size of a Shetland pony's, or a large Newfoundland dog's; and, to her astonishment, so it was! A nice, comfortable, feathery neck it felt--so soft that she could not help laying her head down upon it, and nestling in the downy cushion. "That's right," said the cuckoo. Then he seemed to give a little spring, and Griselda felt herself altogether lifted on to his back. She lay there as comfortably as possible--it felt so firm as well as soft. Up he flew a little way--then stopped short. "Are you all right?" he inquired. "You're not afraid of falling off?" "Oh no," said Griselda; "not a bit." "You needn't be," said the cuckoo, "for you couldn't if you tried. I'm going on, then." "Where to?" said Griselda. "Up the chimney first," said the cuckoo. "But there'll never be room," said Griselda. "I might _perhaps_ crawl up like a sweep, hands and knees, you know, like going up a ladder. But stretched out like this--it's just as if I were lying on a sofa--I _couldn't_ go up the chimney." "Couldn't you?" said the cuckoo. "We'll see. _I_ intend to go, any way, and to take you with me. Shut your eyes--one, two, three--here goes--we'll be up the chimney before you know." It was quite true. Griselda shut her eyes tight. She felt nothing but a pleasant sort of rush. Then she heard the cuckoo's voice, saying-- "Well, wasn't that well done? Open your eyes and look about you." Griselda did so. Where were they? They were floating about above the top of the house, which Griselda saw down below them, looking dark and vast. She felt confused and bewildered. "Cuckoo," she said, "I don't understand. Is it I that have grown little, or you that have grown big?" "Whichever you please," said the cuckoo. "You have forgotten. I told you long ago it is all a matter of fancy." "Yes, if everything grew little _together_," persisted Griselda; "but it isn't everything. It's just you or me, or both of us. No, it can't be both of us. And I don't think it can be me, for if any of me had grown little all would, and my eyes haven't grown little, for everything looks as big as usual, only _you_ a great deal bigger. My eyes can't have grown bigger without the rest of me, surely, for the moon looks just the same. And I must have grown little, or else we couldn't have got up the chimney. Oh, cuckoo, you have put all my thinking into such a muddle!" "Never mind," said the cuckoo. "It'll show you how little consequence big and little are of. Make yourself comfortable all the same. Are you all right? Shut your eyes if you like. I'm going pretty fast." "Where to?" said Griselda. "To Phil, of course," said the cuckoo. "What a bad memory you have! Are you comfortable?" "_Very_, thank you," replied Griselda, giving the cuckoo's neck an affectionate hug as she spoke. "That'll do, thank you. Don't throttle me, if it's quite the same to you," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one, two, three," and off he flew again. Griselda shut her eyes and lay still. It was delicious--the gliding, yet darting motion, like nothing she had ever felt before. It did not make her the least giddy, either; but a slightly sleepy feeling came over her. She felt no inclination to open her eyes; and, indeed, at the rate they were going, she could have distinguished very little had she done so. Suddenly the feeling in the air about her changed. For an instant it felt more _rushy_ than before, and there was a queer, dull sound in her ears. Then she felt that the cuckoo had stopped. "Where are we?" she asked. "We've just come _down_ a chimney again," said the cuckoo. "Open your eyes and clamber down off my back, but don't speak loud, or you'll waken him, and that wouldn't do. There you are--the moonlight's coming in nicely at the window--you can see your way." Griselda found herself in a little bedroom, quite a tiny one, and by the look of the simple furniture and the latticed window, she saw that she was not in a grand house. But everything looked very neat and nice, and on a little bed in one corner lay a lovely sleeping child. It was Phil! He looked so pretty asleep--his shaggy curls all tumbling about, his rosy mouth half open as if smiling, one little hand tossed over his head, the other tight clasping a little basket which he had insisted on taking to bed with him, meaning as soon as he was dressed the next morning to run out and fill it with flowers for the little girl he had made friends with. Griselda stepped up to the side of the bed on tiptoe. The cuckoo had disappeared, but Griselda heard his voice. It seemed to come from a little way up the chimney. "Don't wake him," said the cuckoo, "but whisper what you want to say into his ear, as soon as I have called him. He'll understand; he's accustomed to my ways." Then came the old note, soft and musical as ever-- "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. Listen, Phil," said the cuckoo, and without opening his eyes a change passed over the little boy's face. Griselda could see that he was listening to hear her message. "He thinks he's dreaming, I suppose," she said to herself with a smile. Then she whispered softly-- "Phil, dear, don't come to play with me to-morrow, for I can't come. But come the day after. I'll be at the wood-path then." "Welly well," murmured Phil. Then he put out his two arms towards Griselda, all without opening his eyes, and she, bending down, kissed him softly. "Phil's so sleepy," he whispered, like a baby almost. Then he turned over and went to sleep more soundly than before. "That'll do," said the cuckoo. "Come along, Griselda." Griselda obediently made her way to the place whence the cuckoo's voice seemed to come. "Shut your eyes and put your arms round my neck again," said the cuckoo. She did not hesitate this time. It all happened just as before. There came the same sort of rushy sound; then the cuckoo stopped, and Griselda opened her eyes. They were up in the air again--a good way up, too, for some grand old elms that stood beside the farmhouse were gently waving their topmost branches a yard or two from where the cuckoo was poising himself and Griselda. "Where shall we go to now?" he said. "Or would you rather go home? Are you tired?" "Tired!" exclaimed Griselda. "I should rather think not. How could I be tired, cuckoo?" "Very well, don't excite yourself about nothing, whatever you do," said the cuckoo. "Say where you'd like to go." "How can I?" said Griselda. "You know far more nice places than I do." "You don't care to go back to the mandarins, or the butterflies, I suppose?" asked the cuckoo. [Illustration: "TIRED! HOW COULD I BE TIRED, CUCKOO?"] "No, thank you," said Griselda; "I'd like something new. And I'm not sure that I care for seeing any more countries of that kind, unless you could take me to the _real_ fairyland." "_I_ can't do that, you know," said the cuckoo. Just then a faint "soughing" sound among the branches suggested another idea to Griselda. "Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "take me to the sea. It's _such_ a time since I saw the sea. I can fancy I hear it; do take me to see it." CHAPTER X. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON. "That after supper time has come, And silver dews the meadow steep. And all is silent in the home, And even nurses are asleep, That be it late, or be it soon, Upon this lovely night in June They both will step into the moon." "Very well," said the cuckoo. "You would like to look about you a little on the way, perhaps, Griselda, as we shall not be going down chimneys, or anything of that kind just at present." "Yes," said Griselda. "I think I should. I'm rather tired of shutting my eyes, and I'm getting quite accustomed to flying about with you, cuckoo." "Turn on your side, then," said the cuckoo, "and you won't have to twist your neck to see over my shoulder. Are you comfortable now? And, by-the-by, as you may be cold, just feel under my left wing. You'll find the feather mantle there, that you had on once before. Wrap it round you. I tucked it in at the last moment, thinking you might want it." "Oh, you dear, kind cuckoo!" cried Griselda. "Yes, I've found it. I'll tuck it all round me like a rug--that's it. I _am_ so warm now, cuckoo." "Here goes, then," said the cuckoo, and off they set. Had ever a little girl such a flight before? Floating, darting, gliding, sailing--no words can describe it. Griselda lay still in delight, gazing all about her. "How lovely the stars are, cuckoo!" she said. "Is it true they're all great, big _suns_? I'd rather they weren't. I like to think of them as nice, funny little things." "They're not all suns," said the cuckoo. "Not all those you're looking at now." "I like the twinkling ones best," said Griselda. "They look so good-natured. Are they _all_ twirling about always, cuckoo? Mr. Kneebreeches has just begun to teach me astronomy, and _he_ says they are; but I'm not at all sure that he knows much about it." "He's quite right all the same," replied the cuckoo. "Oh dear me! How tired they must be, then!" said Griselda. "Do they never rest just for a minute?" "Never." "Why not?" "Obeying orders," replied the cuckoo. Griselda gave a little wriggle. "What's the use of it?" she said. "It would be just as nice if they stood still now and then." "Would it?" said the cuckoo. "I know some body who would soon find fault if they did. What would you say to no summer; no day, or no night, whichever it happened not to be, you see; nothing growing, and nothing to eat before long? That's what it would be if they stood still, you see, because----" "Thank you, cuckoo," interrupted Griselda. "It's very nice to hear you--I mean, very dreadful to think of, but I don't want you to explain. I'll ask Mr. Kneebreeches when I'm at my lessons. You might tell me one thing, however. What's at the other side of the moon?" "There's a variety of opinions," said the cuckoo. "What are they? Tell me the funniest." "Some say all the unfinished work of the world is kept there," said the cuckoo. "_That's_ not funny," said Griselda. "What a messy place it must be! Why, even _my_ unfinished work makes quite a heap. I don't like that opinion at all, cuckoo. Tell me another." "I _have_ heard," said the cuckoo, "that among the places there you would find the country of the little black dogs. You know what sort of creatures those are?" "Yes, I suppose so," said Griselda, rather reluctantly. "There are a good many of them in this world, as of course you know," continued the cuckoo. "But up there, they are much worse than here. When a child has made a great pet of one down here, I've heard tell the fairies take him up there when his parents and nurses think he's sleeping quietly in his bed, and make him work hard all night, with his own particular little black dog on his back. And it's so dreadfully heavy--for every time he takes it on his back down here it grows a pound heavier up there--that by morning the child is quite worn out. I dare say you've noticed how haggard and miserable some ill-tempered children get to look--now you'll know the reason." "Thank you, cuckoo," said Griselda again; "but I can't say I like this opinion about the other side of the moon any better than the first. If you please, I would rather not talk about it any more." "Oh, but it's not so bad an idea after all," said the cuckoo. "Lots of children, they say, get quite cured in the country of the little black dogs. It's this way--for every time a child refuses to take the dog on his back down here it grows a pound lighter up there, so at last any sensible child learns how much better it is to have nothing to say to it at all, and gets out of the way of it, you see. Of course, there _are_ children whom nothing would cure, I suppose. What becomes of them I really can't say. Very likely they get crushed into pancakes by the weight of the dogs at last, and then nothing more is ever heard of them." "Horrid!" said Griselda, with a shudder. "Don't let's talk about it any more, cuckoo; tell me your _own_ opinion about what there really is on the other side of the moon." The cuckoo was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he stopped short in the middle of his flight. "Would you like to see for yourself, Griselda?" he said. "There would be about time to do it," he added to himself, "and it would fulfil her other wish, too." "See the moon for myself, do you mean?" cried Griselda, clasping her hands. "I should rather think I would. Will you really take me there, cuckoo?" "To the other side," said the cuckoo. "I couldn't take you to this side." "Why not? Not that I'd care to go to this side as much as to the other; for, of course, we can _see_ this side from here. But I'd like to know why you couldn't take me there." "For _reasons_," said the cuckoo drily. "I'll give you one if you like. If I took you to this side of the moon you wouldn't be yourself when you got there." "Who would I be, then?" "Griselda," said the cuckoo, "I told you once that there are a great many things you don't know. Now, I'll tell you something more. There are a great many things you're not _intended_ to know." "Very well," said Griselda. "But do tell me when you're going on again, and where you are going to take me to. There's no harm my asking that?" "No," said the cuckoo. "I'm going on immediately, and I'm going to take you where you wanted to go to, only you must shut your eyes again, and lie perfectly still without talking, for I must put on steam--a good deal of steam--and I can't talk to you. Are you all right?" "All right," said Griselda. She had hardly said the words when she seemed to fall asleep. The rushing sound in the air all round her increased so greatly that she was conscious of nothing else. For a moment or two she tried to remember where she was, and where she was going, but it was useless. She forgot everything, and knew nothing more of what was passing till--till she heard the cuckoo again. "Cuckoo, cuckoo; wake up, Griselda," he said. Griselda sat up. Where was she? Not certainly where she had been when she went to sleep. Not on the cuckoo's back, for there he was standing beside her, as tiny as usual. Either he had grown little again, or she had grown big--which, she supposed, it did not much matter. Only it was very queer! "Where am I, cuckoo?" she said. "Where you wished to be," he replied. "Look about you and see." Griselda looked about her. What did she see? Something that I can only give you a faint idea of, children; something so strange and unlike what she had ever seen before, that only in a dream could you see it as Griselda saw it. And yet _why_ it seemed to her so strange and unnatural I cannot well explain; if I could, my words would be as good as pictures, which I know they are not. After all, it was only the sea she saw; but such a great, strange, silent sea, for there were no waves. Griselda was seated on the shore, close beside the water's edge, but it did not come lapping up to her feet in the pretty, coaxing way that _our_ sea does when it is in a good humour. There were here and there faint ripples on the surface, caused by the slight breezes which now and then came softly round Griselda's face, but that was all. King Canute might have sat "from then till now" by this still, lifeless ocean without the chance of reading his silly attendants a lesson--if, indeed, there ever were such silly people, which I very much doubt. Griselda gazed with all her eyes. Then she suddenly gave a little shiver. "What's the matter?" said the cuckoo. "You have the mantle on--you're not cold?" "No," said Griselda, "I'm not cold; but somehow, cuckoo, I feel a little frightened. The sea is so strange, and so dreadfully big; and the light is so queer, too. What is the light, cuckoo? It isn't moonlight, is it?" "Not exactly," said the cuckoo. "You can't both have your cake and eat it, Griselda. Look up at the sky. There's no moon there, is there?" "No," said Griselda; "but what lots of stars, cuckoo. The light comes from them, I suppose? And where's the sun, cuckoo? Will it be rising soon? It isn't always like this up here, is it?" "Bless you, no," said the cuckoo. "There's sun enough, and rather too much, sometimes. How would you like a day a fortnight long, and nights to match? If it had been daytime here just now, I couldn't have brought you. It's just about the very middle of the night now, and in about a week of _your_ days the sun will begin to rise, because, you see----" "Oh, _dear_ cuckoo, please don't explain!" cried Griselda. "I'll promise to ask Mr. Kneebreeches, I will indeed. In fact, he was telling me something just like it to-day or yesterday--which should I say?--at my astronomy lesson. And that makes it so strange that you should have brought me up here to-night to see for myself, doesn't it, cuckoo?" "An odd coincidence," said the cuckoo. "What _would_ Mr. Kneebreeches think if I told him where I had been?" continued Griselda. "Only, you see, cuckoo, I never tell anybody about what I see when I am with you." "No," replied the cuckoo; "better not. ('Not that you could if you tried,' he added to himself.) You're not frightened now, Griselda, are you?" "No, I don't think I am," she replied. "But, cuckoo, isn't this sea _awfully_ big?" "Pretty well," said the cuckoo. "Just half, or nearly half, the size of the moon; and, no doubt, Mr. Kneebreeches has told you that the moon's diameter and circumference are respec----" "Oh _don't_, cuckoo!" interrupted Griselda, beseechingly. "I want to enjoy myself, and not to have lessons. Tell me something funny, cuckoo. Are there any mermaids in the moon-sea?" "Not exactly," said the cuckoo. "What a stupid way to answer," said Griselda. "There's no sense in that; there either must be or must not be. There couldn't be half mermaids." "I don't know about that," replied the cuckoo. "They might have been here once and have left their tails behind them, like Bopeep's sheep, you know; and some day they might be coming to find them again, you know. That would do for 'not exactly,' wouldn't it?" "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," said Griselda. "Tell me, are there any mermaids, or fairies, or water-sprites, or any of those sort of creatures here?" "I must still say 'not exactly,'" said the cuckoo. "There are beings here, or rather there have been, and there may be again; but you, Griselda, can know no more than this." His tone was rather solemn, and again Griselda felt a little "eerie." "It's a dreadfully long way from home, any way," she said. "I feel as if, when I go back, I shall perhaps find I have been away fifty years or so, like the little boy in the fairy story. Cuckoo, I think I would like to go home. Mayn't I get on your back again?" "Presently," said the cuckoo. "Don't be uneasy, Griselda. Perhaps I'll take you home by a short cut." "Was ever any child here before?" asked Griselda, after a little pause. "Yes," said the cuckoo. "And did they get safe home again?" "Quite," said the cuckoo. "It's so silly of you, Griselda, to have all these ideas still about far and near, and big and little, and long and short, after all I've taught you and all you've seen." "I'm very sorry," said Griselda humbly; "but you see, cuckoo, I can't help it. I suppose I'm made so." "Perhaps," said the cuckoo, meditatively. He was silent for a minute. Then he spoke again. "Look over there, Griselda," he said. "There's the short cut." Griselda looked. Far, far over the sea, in the silent distance, she saw a tiny speck of light. It was very tiny; but yet the strange thing was that, far away as it appeared, and minute as it was, it seemed to throw off a thread of light to Griselda's very feet--right across the great sheet of faintly gleaming water. And as Griselda looked, the thread seemed to widen and grow, becoming at the same time brighter and clearer, till at last it lay before her like a path of glowing light. "Am I to walk along there?" she said softly to the cuckoo. "No," he replied; "wait." Griselda waited, looking still, and presently in the middle of the shining streak she saw something slowly moving--something from which the light came, for the nearer it got to her the shorter grew the glowing path, and behind the moving object the sea looked no brighter than before it had appeared. At last--at last, it came quite near--near enough for Griselda to distinguish clearly what it was. It was a little boat--the prettiest, the loveliest little boat that ever was seen; and it was rowed by a little figure that at first sight Griselda felt certain was a fairy. For it was a child with bright hair and silvery wings, which with every movement sparkled and shone like a thousand diamonds. Griselda sprang up and clapped her hands with delight. At the sound, the child in the boat turned and looked at her. For one instant she could not remember where she had seen him before; then she exclaimed, joyfully-- "It is Phil! Oh, cuckoo, it is Phil. Have you turned into a fairy, Phil?" But, alas, as she spoke the light faded away, the boy's figure disappeared, the sea and the shore and the sky were all as they had been before, lighted only by the faint, strange gleaming of the stars. Only the boat remained. Griselda saw it close to her, in the shallow water, a few feet from where she stood. "Cuckoo," she exclaimed in a tone of reproach and disappointment, "where is Phil gone? Why did you send him away?" "I didn't send him away," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Never mind, but get into the boat. It'll be all right, you'll see." "But are we to go away and leave Phil here, all alone at the other side of the moon?" said Griselda, feeling ready to cry. "Oh, you silly girl!" said the cuckoo. "Phil's all right, and in some ways he has a great deal more sense than you, I can tell you. Get into the boat and make yourself comfortable; lie down at the bottom and cover yourself up with the mantle. You needn't be afraid of wetting your feet a little, moon water never gives cold. There, now." Griselda did as she was told. She was beginning to feel rather tired, and it certainly was very comfortable at the bottom of the boat, with the nice warm feather-mantle well tucked round her. "Who will row?" she said sleepily. "_You_ can't, cuckoo, with your tiny little claws, you could never hold the oars, I'm----" "Hush!" said the cuckoo; and whether he rowed or not Griselda never knew. Off they glided somehow, but it seemed to Griselda that _somebody_ rowed, for she heard the soft dip, dip of the oars as they went along, so regularly that she couldn't help beginning to count in time--one, two, three, four--on, on--she thought she had got nearly to a hundred, when---- CHAPTER XI. "CUCKOO, CUCKOO, GOOD-BYE!" "Children, try to be good! That is the end of all teaching; Easily understood, And very easy in preaching. And if you find it hard, Your efforts you need but double; Nothing deserves reward Unless it has given as trouble." --When she forgot everything, and fell fast, fast asleep, to wake, of course, in her own little bed as usual! "One of your tricks again, Mr. Cuckoo," she said to herself with a smile. "However, I don't mind. It _was_ a short cut home, and it was very comfortable in the boat, and I certainly saw a great deal last night, and I'm very much obliged to you--particularly for making it all right with Phil about not coming to play with me to-day. Ah! that reminds me, I'm in disgrace. I wonder if Aunt Grizzel will really make me stay in my room all day. How tired I shall be, and what will Mr. Kneebreeches think! But it serves me right. I _was_ very cross and rude." There came a tap at the door. It was Dorcas with the hot water. "Good morning, missie," she said gently, not feeling, to tell the truth, very sure as to what sort of a humour "missie" was likely to be found in this morning. "I hope you've slept well." "Exceedingly well, thank you, Dorcas. I've had a delightful night," replied Griselda amiably, smiling to herself at the thought of what Dorcas would say if she knew where she had been, and what she had been doing since last she saw her. "That's good news," said Dorcas in a tone of relief; "and I've good news for you, too, missie. At least, I hope you'll think it so. Your aunt has ordered the carriage for quite early this morning--so you see she really wants to please you, missie, about playing with little Master Phil; and if to-morrow's a fine day, we'll be sure to find some way of letting him know to come." "Thank you, Dorcas. I hope it will be all right, and that Lady Lavander won't say anything against it. I dare say she won't. I feel ever so much happier this morning, Dorcas; and I'm very sorry I was so rude to Aunt Grizzel, for of course I know I _should_ obey her." "That's right, missie," said Dorcas approvingly. "It seems to me, Dorcas," said Griselda dreamily, when, a few minutes later, she was standing by the window while the old servant brushed out her thick, wavy hair, "it seems to me, Dorcas, that it's _all_ 'obeying orders' together. There's the sun now, just getting up, and the moon just going to bed--_they_ are always obeying, aren't they? I wonder why it should be so hard for people--for children, at least." "To be sure, missie, you do put it a way of your own," replied Dorcas, somewhat mystified; "but I see how you mean, I think, and it's quite true. And it _is_ a hard lesson to learn." "I want to learn it _well_, Dorcas," said Griselda, resolutely. "So will you please tell Aunt Grizzel that I'm very sorry about last night, and I'll do just as she likes about staying in my room or anything. But, if she _would_ let me, I'd far rather go down and do my lessons as usual for Mr. Kneebreeches. I won't ask to go out in the garden; but I would like to please Aunt Grizzel by doing my lessons _very_ well." Dorcas was both delighted and astonished. Never had she known her little "missie" so altogether submissive and reasonable. "I only hope the child's not going to be ill," she said to herself. But she proved a skilful ambassadress, notwithstanding her misgivings; and Griselda's imprisonment confined her only to the bounds of the house and terrace walk, instead of within the four walls of her own little room, as she had feared. Lessons _were_ very well done that day, and Mr. Kneebreeches' report was all that could be wished. "I am particularly gratified," he remarked to Miss Grizzel, "by the intelligence and interest Miss Griselda displays with regard to the study of astronomy, which I have recently begun to give her some elementary instruction in. And, indeed, I have no fault to find with the way in which any of the young lady's tasks are performed." "I am extremely glad to hear it," replied Miss Grizzel graciously, and the kiss with which she answered Griselda's request for forgiveness was a very hearty one. And it was "all right" about Phil. Lady Lavander knew all about him; his father and mother were friends of hers, for whom she had a great regard, and for some time she had been intending to ask the little boy to spend the day at Merrybrow Hall, to be introduced to her god-daughter Griselda. So, _of course_, as Lady Lavander knew all about him, there could be no objection to his playing in Miss Grizzel's garden! And "to-morrow" turned out a fine day. So altogether you can imagine that Griselda felt very happy and light-hearted as she ran down the wood-path to meet her little friend, whose rosy face soon appeared among the bushes. "What did you do yesterday, Phil?" asked Griselda. "Were you sorry not to come to play with me?" "No," said Phil mysteriously, "I didn't mind. I was looking for the way to fairyland to show you, and I do believe I've found it. Oh, it _is_ such a pretty way." Griselda smiled. "I'm afraid the way to fairyland isn't so easily found," she said. "But I'd like to hear about where you went. Was it far?" "A good way," said Phil. "Won't you come with me? It's in the wood. I can show you quite well, and we can be back by tea-time." "Very well," said Griselda; and off they set. Whether it was the way to fairyland or not, it was not to be wondered at that little Phil thought so. He led Griselda right across the wood to a part where she had never been before. It was pretty rough work part of the way. The children had to fight with brambles and bushes, and here and there to creep through on hands and knees, and Griselda had to remind Phil several times of her promise to his nurse that his clothes should not be the worse for his playing with her, to prevent his scrambling through "anyhow" and leaving bits of his knickerbockers behind him. But when at last they reached Phil's favourite spot all their troubles were forgotten. Oh, how pretty it was! It was a sort of tiny glade in the very middle of the wood--a little green nest enclosed all round by trees, and right through it the merry brook came rippling along as if rejoicing at getting out into the sunlight again for a while. And all the choicest and sweetest of the early summer flowers seemed to be collected here in greater variety and profusion than in any other part of the wood. "_Isn't_ it nice?" said Phil, as he nestled down beside Griselda on the soft, mossy grass. "It must have been a fairies' garden some time, I'm sure, and I shouldn't wonder if one of the doors into fairyland is hidden somewhere here, if only we could find it." "If only!" said Griselda. "I don't think we shall find it, Phil; but, any way, this is a lovely place you've found, and I'd like to come here very often." Then at Phil's suggestion they set to work to make themselves a house in the centre of this fairies' garden, as he called it. They managed it very much to their own satisfaction, by dragging some logs of wood and big stones from among the brushwood hard by, and filling the holes up with bracken and furze. "And if the fairies _do_ come here," said Phil, "they'll be very pleased to find a house all ready, won't they?" Then they had to gather flowers to ornament the house inside, and dry leaves and twigs all ready for a fire in one corner. Altogether it was quite a business, I can assure you, and when it was finished they were very hot and very tired and _rather_ dirty. Suddenly a thought struck Griselda. "Phil," she said, "it must be getting late." "Past tea-time?" he said coolly. "I dare say it is. Look how low down the sun has got. Come, Phil, we must be quick. Where is the place we came out of the wood at?" "Here," said Phil, diving at a little opening among the bushes. Griselda followed him. He had been a good guide hitherto, and she certainly could not have found her way alone. They scrambled on for some way, then the bushes suddenly seemed to grow less thick, and in a minute they came out upon a little path. "Phil," said Griselda, "this isn't the way we came." "Isn't it?" said Phil, looking about him. "Then we must have comed the wrong way." "I'm afraid so," said Griselda, "and it seems to be so late already. I'm so sorry, for Aunt Grizzel will be vexed, and I did so want to please her. Will your nurse be vexed, Phil?" "I don't care if she are," replied Phil valiantly. "You shouldn't say that, Phil. You know we _shouldn't_ have stayed so long playing." "Nebber mind," said Phil. "If it was mother I would mind. Mother's so good, you don't know. And she never 'colds me, except when I _am_ naughty--so I _do_ mind." "She wouldn't like you to be out so late, I'm sure," said Griselda in distress, "and it's most my fault, for I'm the biggest. Now, which way _shall_ we go?" They had followed the little path till it came to a point where two roads, rough cart-ruts only, met; or, rather, where the path ran across the road. Right, or left, or straight on, which should it be? Griselda stood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already the moon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches. Griselda looked up to the sky. "To think," she said to herself--"to think that I should not know my way in a little bit of a wood like this--I that was up at the other side of the moon last night." The remembrance put another thought into her mind. "Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?" Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands in her own. She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came the well-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet so clear. Phil clapped his hands. "He's calling us," he cried joyfully. "He's going to show us the way. That's how he calls me always. Good cuckoo, we're coming;" and, pulling Griselda along, he darted down the road to the right--the direction from whence came the cry. They had some way to go, for they had wandered far in a wrong direction, but the cuckoo never failed them. Whenever they were at a loss--whenever the path turned or divided, they heard his clear, sweet call; and, without the least misgiving, they followed it, till at last it brought them out upon the high-road, a stone's throw from Farmer Crouch's gate. "I know the way now, good cuckoo," exclaimed Phil. "I can go home alone now, if your aunt will be vexed with you." "No," said Griselda, "I must take you quite all the way home, Phil dear. I promised to take care of you, and if nurse scolds any one it must be me, not you." There was a little bustle about the door of the farmhouse as the children wearily came up to it. Two or three men were standing together receiving directions from Mr. Crouch himself, and Phil's nurse was talking eagerly. Suddenly she caught sight of the truants. "Here he is, Mr. Crouch!" she exclaimed. "No need now to send to look for him. Oh, Master Phil, how could you stay out so late? And to-night of all nights, just when your--I forgot, I mustn't say. Come in to the parlour at once--and this little girl, who is she?" "She isn't a little girl, she's a young lady," said Master Phil, putting on his lordly air, "and she's to come into the parlour and have some supper with me, and then some one must take her home to her auntie's house--that's what I say." More to please Phil than from any wish for "supper," for she was really in a fidget to get home, Griselda let the little boy lead her into the parlour. But she was for a moment perfectly startled by the cry that broke from him when he opened the door and looked into the room. A lady was standing there, gazing out of the window, though in the quickly growing darkness she could hardly have distinguished the little figure she was watching for so anxiously. The noise of the door opening made her look round. "Phil," she cried, "my own little Phil; where have you been to? You didn't know I was waiting here for you, did you?" "Mother, mother!" shouted Phil, darting into his mother's arms. But Griselda drew back into the shadow of the doorway, and tears filled her eyes as for a minute or two she listened to the cooings and caressings of the mother and son. Only for a minute, however. Then Phil called to her. "Mother, mother," he cried again, "you must kiss Griselda, too! She's the little girl that is so kind, and plays with me; and she has no mother," he added in a lower tone. The lady put her arm round Griselda, and kissed her, too. She did not seem surprised. "I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into her face with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's. And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about the anxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at once to tell of her being safe at the farm. But Griselda herself the kind lady would not let go till she had had some nice supper with Phil, and was both warmed and rested. "And what were you about, children, to lose your way?" she asked presently. "I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland, and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come, and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explained Phil. "And _was_ it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling. Griselda shook her head as she replied-- "Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough. The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find it for ourselves, mustn't we?" She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that _she_ understood. "Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly. "But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both." Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Phil away, are you?" she whispered. "No, I have come to stay here," she answered, "and Phil's father is coming too, soon. We are going to live at the White House--the house on the other side of the wood, on the way to Merrybrow. Are you glad, children?" * * * * * Griselda had a curious dream that night--merely a dream, nothing else. She dreamt that the cuckoo came once more; this time, he told her, to say "good-bye." "For you will not need me now," he said. "I leave you in good hands, Griselda. You have friends now who will understand you--friends who will help you both to work and to play. Better friends than the mandarins, or the butterflies, or even than your faithful old cuckoo." And when Griselda tried to speak to him, to thank him for his goodness, to beg him still sometimes to come to see her, he gently fluttered away. "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo," he warbled; but somehow the last "cuckoo" sounded like "good-bye." In the morning, when Griselda awoke, her pillow was wet with tears. Thus many stories end. She was happy, very happy in the thought of her kind new friends; but there were tears for the one she felt she had said farewell to, even though he was only a cuckoo in a clock. London: Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Limited, Stamford Street and Charing Cross. 
45883	----	TIME AND TIME-TELLERS. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Frontispiece] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ TIME AND TIME-TELLERS. * * * * * BY JAMES W. BENSON. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Sundial] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ LONDON: ROBERT HARDWICKE, 192, PICCADILLY. 1875. JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. INDEX TO THE ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE 1 FRONTISPIECE 2 VIGNETTE 3 THE POCKET RING DIAL 14 4 SILVER POCKET DIAL AND COMPASS 16 5 THE CLEPSYDRA OR WATER CLOCK 19 6 THE BOOK-SHAPED WATCH 35 7 ANCIENT TABLE WATCH 36 8 ANCIENT WATCH WITH DIAL 39 9 OLD ENGLISH ROUND WATCH 40 10 OLD OVAL WATCH 41 11 ANCIENT ROUND ORNAMENTAL WATCH 42 12 OLD ENGLISH CALENDAR WATCH 43 13 MARY QUEEN O' SCOTS WATCH (DEATH'S HEAD) 44 14 ANCIENT WATCH CASE (SCRIPTURAL DESIGN) 45 15 DITTO TABLE WATCH (DITTO) 46 16 GRETTON'S WATCH 48 17 ANCIENT BOX WATCH 49 18 OLIVER CROMWELL'S WATCH 50 19 EARLY ORNAMENTAL ROUND WATCH CASE 51 20 JOHN MILTON'S WATCH 52 21 SMALL EARLY WATCH 54 22 ANCIENT WATCH WITH PENDULUM 55 23 ANCIENT BRASS WATCH WITH LID 56 24 IGNATIUS HUGGEFORD'S WATCH 59 MODERN WATCHES. 25 HORIZONTAL 74 26 SKELETON LEVER 74 27 FULL PLATE LEVER 75 28 THREE-QUARTER PLATE LEVER 75 29 THE CHRONOGRAPH 92 30 PERPETUAL CALENDAR, KEYLESS 96 31 COMPLICATED DITTO AND INDEPENDENT SECONDS 97 32 THE MERIDIAN WATCH 99 ESCAPEMENTS TO WATCHES. 33 THE VERGE ESCAPEMENT 78 34 THE HORIZONTAL DO. 79 35 THE DUPLEX DO. 80 36 THE LEVER DO. 81 37 THE CHRONOMETER DO. 83 BALANCES, ETC. 38 COMPENSATION BALANCE 85 39 OLD BALANCE CLOCK 108 40 CLOCK SPRING 109 41 RACK STRIKING WORK 113 42 BACK OF FRENCH CLOCK 116 43 CARRIAGE CLOCK 118 45 ENGLISH ORMOLU CLOCKS 120-22 46 TELL-TALE CLOCK 123 CLOCK ESCAPEMENTS. 47 CROWN WHEEL ESCAPEMENT 147 48 ANCHOR DO. 148 49 DEAD BEAT DO. 149 50 FRENCH SINGLE-PIN ESCAPEMENT 150 51 THREE LEGG'D GRAVITY DO. 151 52 DOUBLE DITTO DITTO 154 TURRET CLOCKS. 53 WELLS CATHEDRAL CLOCK 135 54 OLD ST DUNSTAN'S DO. 137 55 ST JAMES'S PALACE DO. 138 56 ST PAUL'S CATHEDRAL DO. 140 57 ROYAL FREE HOSPITAL DO. 141 58 MEMORIAL TURRET CLOCK DIAL 157 59 MODERN TURRET CLOCK MOVEMENT 164 60 " " HOUR WHEEL AND SNAIL 166 61 " " THE RACK 168 62 " " THE PENDULUM ROD 169 63 QUARTER OR CHIME CLOCK 171 64 GAS WHEEL FOR ILLUMINATED DIAL 172 65 NEST OF BEVELLED WHEELS CARRYING HANDS 173 66 HAMMER AND BELL 174 67 BENSON'S GREAT CLOCK. THE EXTERIOR 175 68 " " " THE MOVEMENT 176 69 SUN-DIAL 180 TIME AND TIME-TELLERS. Time cannot be thoroughly defined, nor even properly comprehended by mankind, for our personal acquaintance with it is so brief that our longest term is compared to a span, and to 'the grass which in the morning is green and groweth up, and in the evening is cut down and withered.' The ordinary thinker can scarcely carry his idea of Time beyond that small portion of it which he has known, under the name of life-time. The metaphysician classes Time with those other mysteries,--Space, Matter, Motion, Force, Consciousness, which are the Gordian knots of Mental Science. Time is naturally divided into three most unequal parts,--whereof the Past includes all that has happened until now from that far-distant period when 'Heaven and Earth rose out of chaos;' the Present is but a moment, expended in a breath, to be again like that breath momentarily renewed; the Future is, as the Past,--'a wide unbounded prospect,' an 'undiscovered country,' into which Prophecy itself penetrates but partially, and even then bears back to us but small information; for its language catches the character of a grander clime, and the denizens of this lower earth are incapable of understanding its gorgeous metaphors; the brightness is as blinding as the darkness. We may attempt to pierce the Future by the light which History throws from the Past, but History's record is imperfect; her chronicles are of the rudest and most unreliable character; her most valued memorials serve but to make Past 'darkness visible,' her most ancient registers reach back but a short distance compared with those testimonies which geologists have discovered, and given us veritable 'sermons in stones' about. The Past is, indeed, scarcely less of a mystery than the Future; even the Present we only know in part, but we do know that the brief term during which man 'flits across the stage' of time ere he goes hence and is no more seen, is of inestimable value. Most of us soon make the discovery that the world has much to teach which there is little time to learn and still less time to apply to good purpose. _Ars longa, vita brevis est_, is the general expression of human experience. For every man there are duties and labours for which time is all too short; just as he begins to understand and to perform his work wisely and successfully, the 'spirit of the destinies,' as Mr Carlyle would say, 'calls him away;' but whither he goeth is as great a mystery as whence he cometh. This, however, we do know, no wise man ever disregarded Time, inasmuch as of this treasure there is no laying in a fresh store when life's supply has been exhausted; the wasters, the 'killers' of Time, like the foolish virgins who neglected their lamps, are met invariably with the 'Not so,'--as the door of opportunity is shut in their faces. Like the dial with the inscription '_Nulla vestigia retrorsum_' each man's steps are taken never to be retraced, the act once done can no more be recalled than the shadow on the dial can go backward. What wonder then that the most thoughtful of men are particularly careful of their time, regulating their use of it with the utmost precision and weighing it out as scrupulously as a miser would his gold? What wonder that they should sigh and grieve over a wasted day, and with bitter self-reproach should say to themselves as Titus did, 'Perdidi diem,'--I have lost a day? What wonder is it that such should teach themselves to wrestle with Time, even as Jacob wrestled with the angel, for a blessing; and to regard those reckless ones, in whose butterfly existence are counted only the 'shining hours,'--as the bee might be supposed to regard the idle gnats which frolic in the sunbeams heedless both of to-day and of to-morrow. The poets are our best interpreters of Time, and they seem never tired of referring to it and symbolising it by every possible figure, emblem, and trope.[1] Celerity of motion and brevity of duration are discovered to be its chief characteristics. Time is therefore depicted as flying,--fast, noiselessly, and uninterruptedly. It is a river, speeding on with imperceptible but resistless pace to the ocean of eternity. It is a stern vigorous old man--Time is already old--rushing by us with never-slackening strides, bearing blessings for each and all, but we must be upon the alert to strive with him for his gifts--'to seize Time by the forelock'--or he will forget to bestow them. We too often charge upon Time the evil which is the result of our own lack of energy, and thus it happens that although in kindly moments our poets seem to delight in exalting and glorifying him for all manner of enjoyments, at others they can find no word too coarse or uncivil to apply to him. 'Time,' says Shakespeare, 'is a very bankrupt,' adding, 'Nay, he's a thief too; have you not heard men say That time comes stealing on by night and day?' +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | FOOTNOTE: | | | | [1] Poebus Apollo in Ovid's Metamorphoses claims that he is Time's | | special exponent:-- | | | | ----'Per me, quod eritque, fuitque, | | Estque, patet; per me concordant carmina nervis.' | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Time is, in proverbial philosophy, the most churlish and unaccommodating of acquaintances,--'Time and tide tarry for no man.' Time is always liable to be chided, as we have said, when one feels like Hamlet, 'The times are out of joint;' although our next door neighbour may, with as much or more reason, be blessing the self-same hour we are condemning. Time is indeed all things to all men, and 'travels divers paces with divers persons.' Sweet Rosalind described long ago 'who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, and who he stands still withal.' 'I prithee,' asks Orlando, 'who doth he trot withal?' and no matter how often we overhear her reply, we shall listen with delight to the quaint language of the pretty rejoinder,--'Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized; if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven years.' 'And who ambles Time withal?' 'With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout; for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study; and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain; the one lacking the burthen of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burthen of heavy tedious penury. These ambles Time withal.' 'Who doth he gallop withal?' 'With a thief to the gallows; for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there.' 'Who stays Time still withal?' 'With lawyers in the vacation; for they sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how Time wags.' If Roger Bacon's Brazen-head could have repeated and continued his oracular utterances at fixed intervals he would have been a very sensational performer over some prominent public time-piece of the present day. If only once in twelve months, say at midnight, when the year ends, he could have pronounced his three important speeches, 'Time is;--Time was;--Time's past!' he might have rivalled some of our best actors or orators in attracting the multitude; unfortunately, however, our mechanical clockwork performers have never risen to the dignity of speech, and the secret of Friar Bacon's magic died with the inventor of gunpowder,--which last it is a pity, perhaps, did not also slip out of use and memory along with it. 'Time is, time was, time's past' seems to comprise a whole world of hopes, fears, and lost opportunities, and sounds like a little condensed history of all that ever has happened or ever can happen. Herein we may imagine we can observe the wonder-working qualities of Time, solving all mysteries, bringing everything whether of good or evil to fruition, testing friendship and love, solacing troubled and wounded hearts, and healing all manner of griefs; but then we also remark that he is the abaser of the proud as well as the uplifter of the humble. If he builds, he as surely destroys, being, indeed, the Great Spoiler, _edax rerum_, before whose breath myriads of living things through all generations have faded away, in regular sequence, and towns and cities and the several civilizations of the world have one after another decayed and perished with all their wondrous works, and glories, and aspirations. 'Who shall contend with Time--unvanquished Time, The conqueror of conquerors, and lord Of desolation?' Time's chronicle is of itself proof of his character, for the very record of his deeds he does not permit to be of long endurance. Time was, before the earliest historian began to take note of him, before the 'twilight of fable,' and before the most primitive symbol. Time himself were too brief to tell of his various experiences, the full value and purport of which we shall never know, until we have bridged the abyss which separates the present from the future. Time and the world, we are told, commenced life simultaneously, and their twin birth was greeted triumphantly 'with the music of the spheres,' the morning stars sang together rejoicingly; and it is also said that their courses shall be simultaneously determined when the edict shall be promulgated that 'Time shall be no more.' When will that great event take place? is a question which has occupied the attention of many theologians and others, who temporarily forget that 'of that day and hour knoweth no man.' As of the end so of the beginning of Time, there is to us no landmark, though geologists are endeavouring to prove that they have traced some of his earliest footprints in this world of ours. Professor Tyndall tells us that 'not for six thousand, nor for sixty thousand, nor for six thousand thousand, but for æons, embracing untold millions of years, this earth has been the theatre of life and death. The riddle of the rocks has been read by the geologist and palæontologist, from subcambrian depths to the deposits thickening over the sea-bottoms of to-day. And upon the leaves of that stone book are stamped the characters, plainer and surer than those formed by the ink of history, which carry the mind back into abysses of past time compared with which six thousand years cease to have a visual angle.' Although Time is so vast in his operations and so truly marvellous in his many features, it has, nevertheless, been found possible to measure his shorter intervals with the greatest accuracy,--even to but a few seconds in a year. It took some centuries to accomplish this feat, but it is now surely and systematically done. The stages of horological science are some of them remote, but they are well worth studying. The earliest divisions of time were doubtless those made by the operations of Nature, producing day and night,--the sun and moon were the earliest chronometers, and, marked by them, 'the evening and the morning were the first day.' It is even now by noting the recurrence of certain celestial phenomena that we are enabled to certify to ourselves the accuracy of our time-pieces, but although the motion of the heavenly bodies is the standard of computation for lengthened periods, it is found more convenient to reckon short terms, such as seconds, minutes, and hours, by machinery set in motion by a spring or by weights mathematically adjusted, and this in a word has given birth to the science called Horology. We can readily comprehend the division of time into days and nights, for these, as we have said, are the natural divisions. Let us trace the origin of more arbitrary periods, such as hours, and weeks, and months, and years. First, then, as to days, let it be remembered that the beginning and ending of an ordinary English day differs in several respects from those of other nations. The Jews reckon their day, as do also the Greeks and Italians, from sunset to sunset; the Persians from sunrise to sunrise. The astronomical and nautical day is computed from noon to noon, and is reckoned by 24 hours, not by twice 12,--as, for instance, instead of writing half-past four in the morning of, we will say, Jan. 2, the astronomer would write Jan. 1. 16 h. 30 m. Our ordinary English day is reckoned from 12 to 12 at midnight, after the fashion set by Ptolemy, which has this advantage over the method of reckoning from sunrise or sunset, that the latter periods are continually varying with the seasons of the year. The grouping of seven days into a week is shown in Genesis, but the seventh day is there alone specially named. The Sabbath is still kept by the Jews on the seventh day, but Christians keep the first day of the week in honour of Christ's resurrection, and call it the Lord's Day. After the older planetary method, Sunday was named in honour of the Sun, Monday of the Moon, Tuesday of Tuesco, or Mars, Wednesday of Woden or Mercury, Thursday of Thor, Friday of Friga, Venus, Saturday of Saturn. The Month, named after the Moon in consequence of a month being nearly equal to the time occupied by the Moon in going through all her changes, is again classed under the names lunar or calendar; the lunar month is rather more than 29-1/2 days, but as the solar month is nearly a day longer it would require more than twelve lunar months to make a year, arbitrary additions have been therefore made to each month, some consisting of 30, some of 31 days; and months so arranged to form the calendar are called calendar months, twelve of which make a year of about 365-1/4 days. Until the time of Julius Cæsar the year was reckoned as of 365 days only, a number which after many centuries required the addition of ninety days to rectify, he therefore ordered one of the years to consist of 444 days, and that subsequently every fourth year should contain 366 days. Even this very summary imperial method was attended with its drawbacks and difficulties, for the earth's revolution round the Sun is made in eleven minutes eleven seconds, less than 365-1/4 days, which minutes in the course of about 1600 years required to be taken into consideration, and in 1582 Pope Gregory XIII. took off ten days by making the 5th of October the 15th; but the Gregorian time was not introduced into England till 1752 when the error amounted to about eleven, so eleven days were subtracted from 1752 leaving it only 354 days,--much to the indignation of the illiterate people of that time, who clamoured, assembled in great mobs to testify to their sense of the great injury inflicted upon them, 'Give us back our Eleven days,'--one of Hogarth's prints of the 'Election' exhibits a paper containing this very inscription. The fury of the populace at being robbed of its precious time availed not; the day after the 2nd of September, 1752, was made the 14th of September, and from that time dated the New Style, since which the year has been almost exactly correct. Up to 1752 the legal year began in England on the 25th of March, and it was usual up to that day to employ two dates, as 1750-1; but since the change of style the year has commenced with the first of January,--nearly midwinter. As there is one day more than fifty-two weeks in a year every year begins one day later in the week than the preceding year; and after leap-year two days later. The only country in Europe which still retains the Old Style is Russia, --the difference between the styles, now twelve days, is usually indicated by O.S. and N.S., or as in one or two of our watch illustrations by 'Russian' and 'Gregorian.' As regards the smaller divisions of time, it should be noted that the minute and the hour are thus reckoned,--the Earth divided into 360 degrees, turning upon its axis once every twenty-four hours, brings fifteen degrees under the sun each hour, and makes those fifteen degrees of longitude equivalent to one hour of time,--fifteen geographical miles being equivalent to one minute of time. The earliest horologe or hour measurer of which history makes mention is that called the _Polos_, and the _Gnomon_. Herodotus (lib. II.) ascribes their invention to the Babylonians, but Phavorinus claims it for Anaximander, and Pliny for Anaximenes. The _Gnomon_, which was the more simple and probably the more ancient instrument, consisted simply of a staff or pillar fixed perpendicularly in a sunny place, the shadow of which was measured by feet upon the place where it fell,--the flight of time being computed thereby. In later times the word _Gnomon_ was the title of the sun-dial, and it is the name still in use for the style or finger which throws the shadow on the dial and thus indicates the hour. The _Polos_ or _Heliotropion_ was no doubt a superior instrument to the earliest _Gnomon_, but, from its being so seldom mentioned, we may suppose it not to have been so generally used. The _Polos_ consisted of a basin, in the middle of which the perpendicular staff or finger was erected, and marked by lines the twelve portions of the day. The _Dial_ was but another form of _Polos_; its name indicates a Roman origin,--namely, from _Dies_, a day, but there was a Greek sun-dial called _Sciathericum_, from _skia_, a shadow. The invention is said to have been derived by the Jews from the Babylonians, to whom, as we have seen, Herodotus ascribed it, and there is mention made in the xxxviii. of Isaiah of the dial of Ahaz,--a king who began to reign 741 B.C. The form of the Dial of Ahaz has not been ascertained; but there is reason to believe that the ancient Jews and the Brahmins were acquainted with the uses of the dial and applied it to astronomical purposes. Dials were, it is said, not known in Rome before 293 B.C., when one was set up by Papirius Cursor the Roman General, near the Temple of Quirinus. At Athens there is an octagonal temple of the Winds still standing, which shows on each side the lines of a vertical dial and the centres where the _Gnomons_ were placed. At one time the art of Dialling was most assiduously studied; its rudiments may be described as follows: The plane of every dial represents the plane of some great circle on the earth, and the _Gnomon_ the earth's axis; the vertex of a right _Gnomon_, the centre of the earth or visible heavens. The earth itself, compared with its distance from the sun, is considered as a point, and therefore if a small sphere of glass be placed upon any part of the earth's surface so that its axis be parallel to the axis of the earth, and the sphere have such lines upon it, and such plans within it, as above described, it will show the hour of the day as truly as if it were placed at the earth's centre, and the shell of the earth were as transparent as glass. The diversity of the titles of sun-dials arises from the different situation of the planes, and the different figure of the surfaces whereon they are described, whence they are denominated equinoctial, horizontal, vertical, polar, erect, direct, declining, inclining, reclining, cylindrical, &c. +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Pocket Ring Dial.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ All the before-mentioned time-measurers were up to a certain period non-portable, and in addition to the drawback of being unserviceable excepting when the weather was clear and the days bright were as useless for private purposes, as they were unadapted for the winter-time or for night. The next step was therefore a portable dial, but this was probably not invented until after a very long interval. The Dial of which the above is an illustration, was probably one of the earliest of portable time-keepers, the time being shown by means of a hole through which the light fell on the inside, which had an inner ring adaptable to the day and the month. Ring-dials of this description were in common use within the last century in this country, and were manufactured in large numbers at Sheffield when watches were too expensive to be generally attainable. Some of these Ring-dials were of superior construction, and were made by means of more than one ring to serve for different latitudes. As an example of a still greater advance in the manufacture of pocket dials, see the illustration on the next page. The Dial consists of a thin silver plate properly divided and marked, and having a compass with glass cover sunk at one end of it. The _Gnomon_ or style moves upon a hinge so as to allow of its lying flat upon the Dial while in the pocket, and thus rendering the instrument conveniently portable. The _Gnomon_ itself is also susceptible of elevation or depression and the beak of the bird carved on a thin slip of silver at its side marks the exact extent of the _Gnomon's_ elevation. This Dial is indubitably of French manufacture. One would imagine that it was such a dial as this that Shakspeare had in his mind's eye when he wrote the well-known passage which he put into the mouth of Jaques, wherein that philosophic satirist describes his meeting with a fool in the forest. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Silver Pocket Dial (in the collection of the Honble | | Company of Clockmakers, London).] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ 'Good morrow, fool, quoth I. "No sir," quoth he, "Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune; And then he drew _a dial from his poke_, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says, very wisely, "It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven. And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot. And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like Chanticleer, That fools should be so deep contemplative; And I did laugh, sans intermission, _An hour by his dial_.' What the fool's dial was, has given rise to many conjectures, but there is no better authority perhaps on the subject than Mr Halliwell, from whose magnificent and elaborate folio we will make the following very interesting extract. 'The term dial appears to have been applied in Shakspeare's time to anything for measuring time in which the hours were marked, so that the allusion here may be either to a watch, or to a portable journey ring, or small dial. The expression "it is ten o'clock" is not decisive, as it may be considered to be used merely in the sense of the hour thus named. * * * A watch even is sometimes called a clock, * * * and it seems by no means unlikely that the common ring dial which has been in use for several centuries up to a comparatively recent period, should be the dial referred to in the text.' Whatever may have been the shape of the dial which Jaques saw drawn from the fool's 'poke,' it is an undoubted fact that portable dials did serve the part of time-keepers, and were in their way valuable as such to those who had learnt how to use them. But the dial would not do the work of the watch in an age when people no longer travel by the waggon-load or with pack-horse, but are whirled fifty or sixty miles in that time and have to reckon their engagements not by the day, but by the minute. The world no longer 'wags' in jog-trot style, but speeds at steam-pressure and sends its messages by lightning-conductor; it consequently values its time more highly and measures it more carefully. The Horologe which possibly next succeeded in date the invention of the Dial, was the Clepsydra or Water-Clock, the precise antiquity of which is however unknown. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Clepsydra, or Water-Clock of the Greeks.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ The CLEPSYDRA is so named because the water escapes from it as it were by stealth, but in a regulated flow so as to permit of the lapse of time being computed thereby, even as by sand running through sand-glasses. The Clepsydra appears to have been at first used to limit the time during which persons were allowed to speak in the Athenian Courts of Justice; 'the first water,' says Æschines, 'being given to the accuser, the second to the accused, and the third to the judges,'--a special officer being appointed in the courts for the purpose of watching the Clepsydra and stopping it when any documents were read whereby the speaker was interrupted. The time, and consequently the water allowed, depended upon the importance of the case. This custom, says Phavorinus, was to prevent babbling, that such as spake should be brief in their speeches. Ctesibius of Alexandria, who lived about 245, invented a much improved water-clock, mentioned by Vitruvius and Athenæus. Another kind of Clepsydra consisted of a vessel of water having a hole in it through which the fluid gradually escaped; a miniature boat floated upon the water and descended as the water decreased, whilst an oar placed in the boat indicated the hour by pointing to certain line-marks on the side of the vessel. The hole through which the water dropped was made, we are told, through a pearl, because it was supposed that the action of the water upon the pearl would not, as upon other substances, enlarge the aperture, nor would the pearl, it was imagined, be choked by the adhesion of any other material. The chief fault of the Clepsydra as a chronometer arose from the inequality of the flow of water, it being found to escape more rapidly when the vessel was full than when it was becoming empty, and also more speedily in hot weather than in cold. The Egyptians are however said to have measured by this machine the course of the sun; by it Tycho-Brahe computed the motion of the stars; and by it Dudley made his maritime observations. Plato furnished the original idea of the hydraulic organ by inventing a Clepsydra, or water-clock, which played upon flutes the hours of the night when darkness precluded their being shown by the index. Clepsydræ are still used in India. The SAND-GLASS, as we have said, is an instrument of the same character as the Clepsydra,--the one measuring time by the fall of water and the other by the running of sand. Sand-glasses are known to have been used 200 B.C. The best hour-glasses, it is said, were those in which powdered egg-shells well dried in the oven were used instead of sand, such powder being less affected by changes in the atmosphere than sand would be. Sand-glasses are now seldom used except on board ship, and by domestics to compute the time for the boiling of eggs. King Alfred's invention for measuring time by the burning of candles, which were marked by circular lines to show the progress of the hours, was another effort of rude skill, which however could have been but partially successful even in the opinion of its inventor, for the accuracy of candle-horologes is interfered with by many different influences, prominent among which must of course have been the varying qualities of the materials used in their manufacture, and the more or less care with which they were guarded from the wind, so as to prevent their guttering. We now come to consider the date of the next grand step in the progress of Horology,--namely, that of the invention of the _clock_. The name itself may be derived either from the French, _la cloche_, a bell, or from the German, _die gloke_, or _die kloke_. There is no doubt that the word _cloche_ was meant to distinguish the instrument which marked the hours by sounding a bell, from the _montre_ or watch, which (derived from the Latin _monstro_, to show) merely shows the time by its hands. In ancient books the word _cloche_ simply stands for a bell,--the monks being accustomed to ring a bell at certain periods marked for them by their sun-dials or hour-glasses, and 'What's o'clock?' in old writers is often merely equivalent to the inquiry, 'What hour was last struck by bell?' The word horologe or hour-measurer of course equally applied to the sun-dial, the clepsydra, and the clock, and this convertibility of terms makes it all the more difficult to trace the point at which the newer invention began. Beckmann, in an ingenious analysis of various statements as to the first inventors of clocks made to go by weights and wheels, ascribes the invention to the eleventh century, but he does not attempt to name the first clockmaker. His authority for the date is the life of William Abbot of Hirshan, wherein there is mention made of a machine used by the monks for measuring time, which cannot in Beckmann's opinion have been a clepsydra. Beckmann does not believe that clocks were of European origin, but that they were derived from the Saracens. He founds his opinion upon a horologe described by Trithenius which was presented by the Sultan of Egypt in 1232, to the Emperor Frederic II. of Germany. 'In the same year,' says he, 'the Saladin of Egypt sent by his ambassadors, as a gift to Frederic II., a valuable machine of wonderful construction, worth more than 5000 ducats. For it appeared to resemble internally a celestial globe in which figures of the sun, moon, and other planets, formed with the greatest skill, moved, being impelled by weights and wheels, so that performing their course in certain and fixed intervals, they pointed out the hour, night and day, with infallible certainty; also the twelve signs of the Zodiac with appropriate characters, moved with the firmament, contained within themselves the course of the planet.' To whom the high honour belongs of inventing the clock is, to use a not unknown phrase, 'lost in the mists of antiquity.' All the ancients who were reported as skilful in mechanics seem to have obtained a modicum of credit as clock-inventors. Archimedes and Posidonius before, the Christian era, Boëthius in the 5th century, Pacificus about the middle of the 9th, Gerbert at the end of the 10th, Wallingford near the beginning of the 14th, and Dondi at the end of the 14th, have each in their turn been asserted to be the inventors of the clock. The sphere of Archimedes, made 200 B.C., as mentioned by Claudian, was evidently an instrument with a maintaining power but without a regulator, and therefore would not measure time in any other manner than as a planetarium, turned by a handle, measures, or rather exhibits, the respective velocities of the heavenly bodies; and the same may be said of the sphere of Posidonius, as mentioned by Cicero ('De naturâ Deorum'). The clock of Boëthius was a clepsydra, as was also that of Pacificus, according to some, for Bailly in his History of Modern Astronomy asserts that Pacificus was the inventor of a clock going by means of a weight and a balance, and if so the invention must be ascribed to Pacificus; but Bailly gives no authority for his assertion. Gerbert's horologe is said to have been merely a sun-dial, and Wallingford's horologe, called the Albion, must have as much resembled a planetarium as a clock, for the motions of all the heavenly bodies appear to have been conducted by the maintaining power, whatever that was, without controlling mechanism. This instrument, made in 1326, is also described as having shown the ebb and flow of the sea, the hours, and the minutes. There are, however, still earlier data as to clocks in England than this of Wallingford's, for we find that in 1288 a stone clock-tower was erected opposite Westminster Hall with a clock which cost 800 marks, the proceeds of a fine imposed upon Ralph de Hengham, Chief Justice of the Queen's Bench. The tower mentioned was still standing in 1715, and in it was a clock which struck the great bell known as Tom of Westminster so as to be heard by the people in all the law courts. In Queen Elizabeth's time the clock was changed for a dial upon the clock tower, which, however, bore upon its face the same Virgilian motto, 'Discite justitiam moniti,'--referring to the fine inflicted upon the Chief Justice for making an alteration in a record by which a poor dependent was made to pay 13_s._ 4_d._ instead of 6_s_. 8_d_. A dial with this motto was still to be seen in Palace Yard, Westminster, within the last dozen years, but was removed with the houses which were then demolished to make way for the gilded palings which have since been erected between Palace Yard and Bridge Street, Westminster. In 1292 a clock was placed in Canterbury Cathedral, which, according to a statement in a Cottonian MS., cost £30, a large sum at that time. Dante, who died in 1321, aged 57, makes the earliest mention of an _orologio_ which struck the hour: 'Indi come orologio che _ne chiami_ Nel hora che la sposa, d'Idio surge Amattinar lo sposo, perche l'ami.' _Il Paradiso._--C.X. In 1344 James Dondi constructed at Padua, by the command of Hubert, prince of Carrara, a clock similar to Wallingford's, and thus obtained for himself the title of _Horologius_; which, it is said, is still borne by his descendants in Florence. In 1364 Henry de Wyck, a German, made a clock for Charles V. of France, which was erected in the tower of his palace. This clock was regulated by a balance, the teeth of the crown-wheel acted upon two small levers called pallets which projected from, and formed part of, an upright spindle or staff, on which was fixed the balance, and the clock was regulated by shifting the weights placed at each end of the balance. In 1368 Edward granted protection against 'injuriam, molestiam, violentiam, damnum, aut gravamen' to three Dutch horologers, John and William Uneman and John Lietuyt, who had been invited to this country from Delft. Chaucer, who died in 1400, speaks of a cock crowing with such regularity as to rival a clock: 'Full sikerer (surer) was his crowing in his loge As is a clok, or any abbey orloge.' Whether the abbey horologe referred to was really a clock in our sense of the term, or merely the bell rung by the monks at a certain hour indicated by the clepsydra, is matter of conjecture, but the probability is, that clockmaking had advanced sufficiently about this time to have given rise to Chaucer's simile. Froissart speaks of a famous clock which struck the hours, and was remarkable for its mechanism, and which was removed in 1332 by Philip the Hardy, duke of Burgundy, from Courtrai to his capital at Dijon. After this date frequent mention is made of clocks in various histories, some of which instruments remain even to the present day. Dr Heylin thus describes a famous clock and dial in the Cathedral of Lunden in Denmark. 'In the dial are to be seen distinctly the year, month, week, day, and every hour of the day throughout the year, with the feasts, both those which are movable and fixed, together with the motions of the sun and moon, and their passage through each degree of the zodiac. Then for the clock, it is so framed by artificial engines that whensoever it is to strike, two horsemen encounter one another, giving as many blows apiece as the bell sounds hours, and on the opening of a door there appeareth a theatre, the Virgin Mary on a throne with Christ in her arms, and the three kings or Magi (with their several trains) marching in order, doing humble reverence, and presenting severally their gifts,--two trumpeters sounding all the while, to adorn the pomp of the procession.' The clock at Hampton Court is one of the most ancient in England, but all that remains of the original structure is the dial and work connected with it, facing the east, in the second court of the old part of the building erected by Wolsey. Of the ancient body or works there is no record, and its maker is unknown, but it bears the initials N.O. and the date 1540. There is a celebrated antique clock at Strasburg which is described as striking the quarter-hours by four figures, symbols of the ages of man;--the first being struck by a child with an apple, the second by a youth with an arrow, the third by a man with a staff, and the fourth by an old man with a crutch, then came Death, who struck the hour, and thus reminded the observer that his last hour would eventually arrive. From the evidence adduced respecting the origin and inventors of the clock it is not unreasonable to conclude with Ferdinand Berthoud (a Frenchman who wrote much and was a great authority upon the subject) that such a clock as that which was constructed by Henry de Wyck for Charles the Wise of France, was not the invention of one man, but was the result of a series of inventions made at different times by various persons, each of which is worthy to be considered a separate invention. It was the simple employment of the natural force of gravity as to the fall of bodies in free space, that paved the way to the extreme accuracy and constancy of rate which belong to the clocks of modern times, and the conclusion to which Mons. Berthoud arrived respecting the progression of the essential improvements is thus stated:-- 1. Toothed wheel-work was known in ancient times, and particularly to Archimedes, whose instrument was provided with a maintaining power, but had no regulator or controlling mechanism. 2. The weight applied as a maintainer at first had a fly, most probably similar to that of a kitchen-jack. 3. The ratchet-wheel and click for winding up the weight, without detaching the teeth of the great wheel. 4. The regulation of the fly depending upon the state of the air, it was abandoned, and a balance substituted. 5. An escapement next became indispensable, as constituting with the balance a more regular check than a fly upon the tendency which a falling weight has to accelerate its velocity. 6. The application of a dial-plate and hand to indicate the hours was a consequence of the regularity introduced into the going part. 7. The striking portion, to proclaim at a distance, without the aid of a watcher, the hour that was indicated: and this was followed by the alarum. 8. The reduction and accommodation of all this bulky machinery to a portable and compact size, as in watches. Such a succession of ingenious contrivances, introduced by different men to improve upon the first rude instrument, is perfectly analogous to the successive improvements which have been made in the modern clock, since that of Henry de Wyck's was constructed. Large iron wheels, continually exposed to the oxidizing influence of the air, in which unequal and ill-shapen teeth were cut with the inaccuracy of a manual operation, were by no means calculated to transmit the maintaining power with perfect regularity to the balance, supposing it to have been a good regulator; but when it is further remembered that the alternate direct pushes of the escape-wheel against the pallets must have produced jerks, and destroyed, or greatly disturbed, the regularity of this most essential part of the mechanism, great accuracy was not to be expected; even minutes were deemed too small portions of time to be shown by such a machine. The clock was set daily by some person specially appointed to the office, and even then was not to be depended upon, for forty minutes' variation in twenty-four hours was not thought to be an ill performance. The most ancient clocks had no pendulum such as we now see, but had instead a balance vibrating on the top of the clock, as seen in illustration, p. 108, which is an example of ancient clockwork. Upon the invention of springs, in lieu of weights, as the maintaining or motive power in clocks, which was made towards the close of the fifteenth century, it became obvious that time-pieces might be rendered portable, and that the new motive power, a coiled spring, could act independently of position. This discovery was of great importance, and yet to whom we are indebted for it is unknown; the value of the invention became still more apparent when the fusee, or mechanism for equalizing the variable power of a coiled spring, was applied. Berthoud says, 'It was soon perceived that the action of the spring being much greater at the height of its tension than at the end, great variations in the watch resulted therefrom. This was remedied by a mechanism called _stack-freed_, that is, a kind of curve, by means of which the great spring of the barrel acted on a straight spring, which opposed itself to its action, and when this spring was nearly down, acted more feebly.' The word _stack-freed_ was stated to be German, and therefore gave rise to a supposition that the invention was of German origin, but the word is not to be found in a German dictionary, and, if ever German, it was probably strictly technical, and soon became obsolete. Berthoud has given a drawing and description of a portable clock, probably by Jourdain, without a fusee, and some of the modern continental watch-makers have, perhaps, derived their idea from it of making a watch keep time without a fusee. Up to the close of the 15th century the motive power in clocks was always obtained by means of weights; the invention of the coiled spring rendered them portable. Whatever be the date or origin of the watch or portable clock, certain it is that there was mention made of such an instrument as far back as 1494, by Gaspar Visconti, an Italian poet, who in a sonnet describes 'Certain small and portable clocks made with a little ingenuity, and which are continually going, showing the hours, many courses of the planets, the festivals, and striking when the time requires it.' The sonnet is, as it were, composed by a person in love, who compares himself to one of these clocks. One of the earliest places of watch manufacture was Nuremberg, and foremost among its horologers was Peter Hele, who was thus described by Doppelmayer in his 'History of the Mathematicians and Artists of Nuremberg.' 'Peter Hele, a clockmaker, was everywhere esteemed a great artist on account of the pocket-clocks, which, soon after the year 1500, he first made in Nuremberg, with small wheels of steel. The invention, which with great justice may be ascribed to him, being something new, was praised by almost every one, even by the mathematicians of the time, with great admiration. He died 1540. On this subject Johannes Cocclæus, in his Commentary on the Cosmographia of Pomponius Mela, published in Nuremberg in 1511, makes the following announcement:--"Inveniuntur in dies subtiliora, etenim Petrus Hele, juvenis adhuc admodum, opera fecit, quæ doctissimi admirantur mathematici, nam ex ferro parva fabricat horologia, plurimis digesta rotulis, quæ, quocunque vertuntur, absque ullo pondere, et monstrant et pulsant XL. horas. Etiamsi in sinu, marsupiove contineantur."' This quotation from Cocclæus may be thus translated:--Ingenious things are just now being invented, for Peter Hele, as yet but a young man, hath made works which even the most learned mathematicians admire, for he fabricates small horologes of iron fitted with many wheels, which, whithersoever they are turned, and without any weight, both show and strike forty hours,--whether they be carried in the bosom or the pocket. Doppelmayer in continuation says: 'This, already so written by Cocclæus in 1511, shows in the clearest way, that pocket-clocks were made at Nuremberg many years ago, and he has fairly attributed the invention of them to this artist, since it was the most deserving of admiration, and the newest of his time, and which will be considered as a Nuremberg invention; whence also clocks of this kind were for a long time called Nuremberg living eggs, because they at first used to make them in the form of small eggs, which name is to be found in the German translation in chapter 26 of a strange book which F. Rabelais has left behind him. Hence it is evident how erroneous it is to ascribe, as many do, the invention of small striking-clocks, as of these pocket-clocks, to Isaac Habrecht, a well-known mathematician who lived about the beginning of the last century, and dwelt at Strasburg, whereas our Peter Hele had made them in Nuremberg 100 years before.' The art of watch-making soon extended itself over Europe, for we find that in France, in 1544, Francis I. enacted a statute in favour of the corporation of master clockmakers at Paris, to the effect that no one should be permitted to make horologes unless he should have been previously admitted into that society. Of the most antique watches there are some very interesting collections at the South Kensington Museum and other places,--originally brought together by private persons whose antiquarian knowledge has lit up the subject with wonderful interest. It would be impossible to furnish in a volume such as this, a regular series of such productions, showing the development of artistic skill in the embellishment and design of watches; we leave that duty to some future writer who shall prepare an _edition de luxe_, and show therein, in splendid colour-printing, all the beauties of enamelling on the precious metals, all the elegance, as well as perhaps the oddity, of design, which are to be observed in these highly-interesting works of art. We will, for the nonce, be content with interspersing our pages with a few examples, not perhaps of the highest quality in point of design, but yet worthy of notice, either as showing variety of form or as being made valuable by historical associations. One of the earliest specimens of very small watches which are now extant is the one given on the next page. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Watch, in form of a Book.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ This little time-piece dates from the period when blacksmiths were watch-makers, or at all events when watch-makers were blacksmiths. The works are all of iron; the case was made, probably, before glass was used for such instruments, and it is not unlikely that this watch is of as old a shape as even the Nuremberg eggs. A more ornamental time-piece, of perhaps a somewhat later date, is the curious little instrument which is portrayed in our next illustration; the works of which are also of iron. It possesses the advantage of serving either as a clock or a watch, or as both, being of a portable size, and yet when set on a stand would serve as a pretty ornament to a drawing-room table. The bell at the top is so arranged that when the hand touches a trigger the hour is struck upon it, but the bell itself may be detached without any interference with the movement by which the time is kept. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Table Watch, with Bell for striking (Temp | | _circa_ 1525).] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ A clock was purchased by Queen Victoria at Strawberry Hill sale and is now at Windsor, which was a present from Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn, and since from Lady Elizabeth Germains to Horace Walpole. It is described by Walpole as a clock of silver gilt, richly chased, engraved and ornamented with fleurs-de-lys, little heads, &c. On the top sits a lion holding the arms of England, which are also on the sides. On the weights are the initial letters of Henry and Anne within true lover's knots, at the top 'Dieu et mon droit,' at the bottom 'the most happy.' The emperor Charles V. (Henry's contemporary) was so much pleased with observing the movements of time-pieces, that it is related of him, that he frequently sat after his dinner with a number of them upon the table before him, and that even after his retirement to the monastery of St Just he still continued his interest in them. He endeavoured to adjust their movements and keep them in order, but, upon finding it impossible to make any two watches agree with each other in keeping time, he was induced to reflect how much more absurd it must be for a man to attempt to regulate the more varied and hidden emotions of nations in consonance with those in his own breast. Ancient watches used to strike the time, and we read of Charles V. and Louis XI. that, watches having been stolen from them in certain crowds, the thief was detected by their striking the hour. In 1577 Moestlin had a clock so constructed as to make just 2528 beats in an hour, 146 of which were counted during the sun's passage over a meridian, and thus determined its diameter. The alarum or alarm is one of the earliest additions to the mechanism of the clock, and is still used in Dutch clocks. This contrivance took its origin from the circumstance of prayers being read at stated periods in monasteries by night as well as by day, such an invention being of course of much service in arousing the priest to perform his duties. In 1631 the Company of Clockmakers was incorporated in England by Charles I., who granted them a charter prohibiting the importation of clocks, watches, and alarms. So that at this period Englishmen were sufficiently skilled in the production of horological instruments to consider their importation in the light of an intrusion. The Company consisted of a Master, three Wardens, and ten or more Assistants who had power to make by-laws for the government of all persons using the trade in or within ten miles of London. They were authorized to enter, with a constable or other officer, any ships, vessels, warehouses, shops, or other places, _where they shall suspect bad and deceitful works to be made or kept_, and if such were found they seized them in the King's name, and having proved their unworthiness, the objectionable works were broken up and destroyed. There are many instances mentioned of such 'searches' upon the Books of the Company, and although the practice has long become obsolete, for in these times of free trade no such restrictions would be tolerated, yet it would perhaps be found that some testing by a modern 'searcher' or tester would be of some protection to the public now-a-days, when thousands of watches are sold which, like Peter Pindar's razors, are intended rather for the market than for use. The following are illustrations of some time-keepers of the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Watch with Dial, 1580.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ This is a very curious but not uncommon combination of the watch with the dial,--the latter being marked inside the watch-case and having a gnomon moving on a hinge so as to allow of its lying flat and being enclosed within the case when not in use. Our next illustration is of one of the earliest examples of a round watch made in England, the date being 1593. It contains not only a dial showing the hour, but a sort of general calendar in miniature. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: English Round Watch, 1593.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ Of much about the same date is the following example in silver and brass. It is of the same style of time-keeper, and shows how our forefathers liked to know not only the time of day but the period of the month; and how they watched the moon's changes, and in a word made an almanac of their watches. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Oval Watch, 1593.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ It was not an unusual thing for religious persons who used rosaries at their devotions, to add to their beads a miniature skull, with a view it may be to remind themselves of the frailty of life by way of stimulus to the preparation for the future state. When watches were invented the Memento Mori death's head was made into a watch-case, as in the illustration on page 44. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Ornamental Watch.] | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ The Lauder family, of Grange and Fountain Hall, possess the _Memento Mori_ Watch there engraved, they having inherited it from their ancestors, the Setoun family. It was given by Queen Mary to Mary Setoun, of the house of Wintoun, one of the four Marys, maids of honour to the Scottish Queen. This very curious relic must have been intended to be placed on a _prie-dieu_, or small altar, in a private oratory; for it is too heavy to have been carried in any way attached to the person. The watch is of the form of a skull: on the forehead is the figure of Death, standing between a palace and a cottage; around is this legend from Horace: '_Pallida mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas Regumque turres_.' On the hind part of the skull is a figure of Time, with another legend from Horace: '_Tempus edax rerum tuque invidiosa vetustas_.' The upper part of the skull bears representations of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden, and of the Crucifixion, each with Latin legends; and between these scenes is open-work, to let out the sound when the watch strikes the hours upon a small silver bell, which fills the hollow of the skull, and receives the works within it when the watch is shut. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Old English Calendar Watch.] | | | |[Illustration: 'Memento Mori' Watch belonging to Mary Queen of Scots.]| +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Nor about this time was the opportunity omitted of inculcating by means of pictorial watch illustrations, that Scriptural knowledge which was in the less educated times not so much taught by books as by pictures. The watch case given on the following page is of about 1600. It is obviously of English workmanship, and is a fair specimen of the period,--it may be, indeed, that, looking at it, one may well doubt whether art has much advanced in watch-ornamentation during the last 270 years or so. We give our next illustration as another example of an ancient Table Watch. This watch has a revolving dial at the top, by means of which and the fixed point or hand the time is indicated (page 46). +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Watch-case (_circa_ 1600).] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Such was the state of clockwork when Galileo, the great astronomer, then a medical student at Pisa, happened to discover, while gazing up at the roof of the cathedral when he should, perhaps, have been devotionally occupied, that the lamps suspended therefrom by chains of equal lengths, swung, and made their vibrations in long or short arcs, in almost the same space of time,--a fact, the truth of which he ascertained by the beats of his pulse. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Table-Watch, _circa_ 1630.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ This isochronal property, as it was called, was described in a treatise which he published at Paris in 1639, entitled 'L'Usage du Cadron ou de l'Horloge physique universelle.' The first application which Galileo made of his discovery was the professional one of testing the rate and variations of the pulse, and it is even denied that he did more than suggest its applicability to clockwork. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Silver Dial and Gold-cased Watch. One hand.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The honours of the invention of the pendulum-clock have been contested by Vincentio Galilei, son of the great astronomer, who is said to have made a pendulum-clock at Venice in 1649, and Christian Huygens, a noted Dutch mathematician, who (in his excellent treatise, 'De Horologio Oscillatorio,' which was the foundation of most of the subsequent improvements in horometrical machines) clearly shows that he had constructed a pendulum-clock previous to 1658. His reputation will be somewhat obscured, however, if we yield to the claims of an Englishman named Richard Harris, an ordinary workman, who, it is said, invented the pendulum-clock which was fixed in the turret of St Paul's, Covent Garden, in 1642, and which is generally believed to have been the first pendulum-clock in Europe. The pendulum when first applied to clocks was suspended by a silken cord, and the arc described by the bob or weight at its end was a segment of a circle, but it being found that this was in opposition to scientific knowledge, and that the curve described by it should properly be part of a cycloid or oval; Huygens tried to remedy the error by causing the silk cord in its motion to side or strike against a curved piece of brass, but he thereby caused a greater error than he corrected. Dr Hooke afterwards suspended the pendulum by a thin flexible piece of steel, the bending of which, as the pendulum swings from side to side, produces the required cycloidal motion. In 1658 Dr Hooke invented the Anchor Escapement which is still in use together with the flexible spring to the pendulum above described. Before, however, we proceed further with our historical summary of the progress of watch and clock making, it may be well to introduce here two illustrations of the watches worn by two of the most eminent Englishmen of about this period. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Box Watch.] | | | | [Illustration: The Watch of Oliver Cromwell.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The following watch was made about 1625 by Jonn Midwall in Fleet Street, who was Warden of the Clockmakers' Co. in 1635, and died about 1638. It is one of the early examples of a fob-watch. The case is of plain silver, fitted with glass over the face, and the chain of the same metal. The family crest of Cromwell was a demi-lion holding a ring in its paw, but the Protector substituted for the ring the handle of a tilting spear, as engraved on the chain; the Cromwell arms on the reverse, and the initials O.C., certify to its genuineness. The arms as engraved and the crest are identical with those on the banner used at the Protector's funeral. The silver seals which were at one time attached to this chain are now absent, but they were a few years back in the possession of some descendants of the Cromwellian family, who allowed Sir Charles Fellows to take impressions of them. The watch, as it is here engraved, remained for upwards of a century in Holland, was there purchased by an English nobleman who presented it to his godson, and by him given to Sir C. Fellows, who believed that it was probably worn by Cromwell from 1625 until his death in 1658. In shape it reminds one of the Nuremberg egg watch. The following is an excellent example of an early watch-case of the round shape still in use. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Early Ornamental Round Watch-case.] | | | | [Illustration: John Milton's Watch, made by William Bunting, London, | | 1631.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The history of this watch is somewhat singular. From inscriptions which appear upon it, it seems to have been made by William Bunting, (whose name is entered upon the books of the Clockmakers' Co. as elected to their court in 1645, he being then resident in Pope's Head Alley, Cornhill,) in 1631, and presented to John Milton in the same year, which was the date of the poet's leaving Christ's College, Cambridge, and taking up his residence with his father in Horton, Buckinghamshire, he being then about 23 years of age. From that time down to the early part of the present century we have no record of the watch or its possessors, but that in 1819 it was bequeathed by the last surviving member of an old family in Baltimore in the United States, who had treasured it for some generations, to some old ladies residing near London, the bequest including also a number of coins of the reigns of Charles the 1st and 2nd, some medals of Fairfax and others, as well as a few rings, but nothing of a later date. The chest which contained all these relics safely arrived in London, and not long after was, with its contents, offered for sale to an eminent chronometer-maker. The coins and medals being in an excellent state of preservation were soon disposed of at high prices, but the watch being only silver gilt, and steel-faced, was considered to be of little value, and a few shillings only were allowed as a fair price for it. It was put into a drawer in its discoloured state and there remained until 1828, when for the first time the inscription on the face of it was discovered upon its being accidentally cleaned up, and it was then presented to Sir Charles Fellows, well known for his connoisseurship in such matters, and as a collector of ancient time-pieces. The maker's name upon the inside of this watch is thus given: 'Gulielmus Bunting, London, 1631.' Sir Charles Fellows died in 1860 and bequeathed this one watch only to the nation; but his relict, Lady Fellows, who died in 1874, left the whole of the celebrated collection of ancient watches which her husband had brought together, to the British Museum. In 1675 Tompion, under Hooke's direction, made a watch with a spiral balance for Charles II. Up to this period watches had but one hand and only pointed the hours, but the spiral pendulum spring having been applied to the balance, it regulated the oscillations with some nicety, and the minute wheel and hand were soon after added. A watch was found upon Guido Fawkes when he was arrested for the Gunpowder Plot, which had been purchased by Percy and himself the day before 'to try conclusions' for the long and short burning of the touchwood with which he had prepared to set fire to the train of powder. The following is one of the earliest examples we have met with of an +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Early Watch, with double case.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ It is apparently of French make, date of 1660, and is a remarkably neat and small specimen of the watches of that time. The annexed illustration is a curious example of a watch of the date of 1580, to which a pendulum was added in 1670, and which is still capable of keeping time. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Watch with Pendulum.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Our next illustration is another specimen of antique design and ornamentation. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ancient Brass Watch-case with lid protecting Dial.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ In 1676 Barlow, a London clockmaker, invented some mechanism whereby a person at night might ascertain, in the dark, the hour last struck, by pulling a certain part of it, and this contrivance gave the name of _repeater_ to all time-pieces in which it was used. For this invention Barlow tried to obtain a patent, but he was opposed by Daniel Quare and the Clockmakers' Company, who said that Quare was the original inventor. The question was tried by James II., and the decision given in favour of Quare. The following memorandum was entered upon the books of the Company with reference thereto. '1688, Sep. 29.--Be it remembered that in pursuance of the order of the Court of the 8th day of February, 1687-8, and according to the order of the Court of the 5th March, 1687-8, the patent endeavoured to be obtained by one Mr Edward Barlow, a priest, and to be granted to him by the king's majesty for his sole making and managing of all pulling repeating pocket-clocks and watches, he pretending to be the true and first inventor of that art and invention, was by diligence and endeavour of the Master, Wardens, and Assistants of this Company, with great charge and expense, which was borne by and out of the stock of the Company, very successfully prevented, and upon the 2nd March, 1687-8, ordered by the king in Council not to be granted.' In 1695 Tompion invented the cylinder escapement with horizontal wheel, but this was not brought into general use until some time after, when it was much modified. It was, however, a very valuable invention, and exercised considerable influence upon the shape of subsequent watches, inasmuch as it dispensed with the vertical crown wheel, and permitted them to be made more flat and therefore more conveniently portable. We now come to the time when the use of jewels was first invented and applied; and as these, by being so hard and uninfluenced by friction as to allow the pivots to play without wearing away,--as metal would do by constant action,--afterwards gained for the English peculiar fame as manufacturers of watches, we shall be excused for enlarging upon this point. About the year 1700 Nicolas Facio, a native of Geneva, having invented the use of jewels in watches, and failed in his attempt to persuade the Parisian watch-makers into the adoption of his notions, came to London. In May, 1705, he and two other watch-makers, Peter Debaufree and Jacob Debaufree, obtained a patent for his invention to extend over fourteen years. In December, 1705, he petitioned, as we shall presently see, to be granted a more extended term, and then the Clockmakers' Company opposed the application upon the ground of the invention not being a novel one, and in proof of their statement produced the watch, of which we give an illustration, as made by Ignatius Huggeford, a member of their own Company, some time before the application of the pendulum-spring. As this watch had a large amethyst mounted upon the cock or pivot of the balance-wheel, the Committee of the House of Commons were induced to decide against Facio's petition and to throw out his Bill. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Ignatius Huggeford's Original Jewelled Watch.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ This watch has since then obtained an extensive historical reputation, and it is preserved in the archives of the Clockmakers' Company as one of their most valuable treasures, for it is the earliest known English jewelled watch, and is the identical instrument produced before the House of Commons Committee, as evidence to upset, and which did upset, poor Facio's claim for an extension of patent. Alas, for ancient reputations, it has been but recently discovered that Huggeford's watch was but a fraud, and that the jewel on the cock which deceived the Parliamentary Committee into supposing that Ignatius Huggeford, an Englishman, had applied jewels to watches long before Facio had been heard of, _has nothing to do with the working_ of the watch. The jewel has been merely stuck on, just in the place where a jewel should be; but as it is only fixed to the surface of the brass and no pivot plays in the jewel, it may be averred that the amethyst has no more to do with the movement of the watch than the silver ornaments on the watch-case. It is clear by the words in Facio's petition that his application of jewelling to watches was not merely done with the idea of ornamenting them,--in that there would have been no novelty,--and it seems probable that the amethyst would have been placed upon the face of the watch if the object of inserting it anywhere had simply been ornamentation; to speak plainly, none other than a fraudulent purpose could be served by its being placed where it is. It is, we fear, not impossible that the jewel was placed there at the insistence of some of the members of the Clockmakers' Company, who, being perhaps jealous of the foreign invention, and fearful of its effects upon their own private trade, were still unable to prevent the grant of a patent, in May, 1703, for fourteen years to the inventor. But by December of that year, when application was made for the extension of the patent, they had had time to consider affairs and to prepare their opposition. We may believe this watch to have been Ignatius Huggeford's, and to have been all that it was sworn to be by the members of that Company, but, when we remark that neither is any mention whatever made by them, nor, as far as it appears, any question asked of them before the Parliamentary Committee as to the jewel being upon the cock during the whole of the time of its being in their possession, we cannot but arrive at the conclusion that the jewel was placed upon Huggeford's old watch--the date of which could be shown--at the order of some of the members of the Clockmakers' Company with the purpose of defeating the patent, and that the Committee of the House of Commons were not as careful as they ought to have been in inspecting the jewel, for if they had, they must have seen the want of connexion between the amethyst and the pivot, which, it was pretended, was working in it. The probability is that at this time our English watch-makers scarcely knew how to apply a jewel, or otherwise they would have inserted the pivot in a proper manner. The story is anyhow a very extraordinary one, for, supposing the Clockmakers' Company to be innocent of conspiracy on the subject, it must have been a miraculously curious whim which possessed old Huggeford to insert a jewel as an ornament in a place where it would not be seen, and still more wonderful that it should, sham as it was, be placed exactly where it should suit the purpose of after-litigation. Of course there can be no imputation arising out of this incident to affect the members of the Clockmakers' Company of the present time, for they are no more answerable for what was done above a century and a half ago than the Parliament of to-day is to be blamed for allowing the execution of Charles I., or for enacting the laws which led to the loss of our American colonies. After the invention of jewels for watches came a still more important discovery. Since 1530, when Gemma Frisius first proposed to ascertain the relative longitude of any place or ship at sea, by means of an horological machine for indicating the time of the first meridian, the subject had excited the attention of most of our philosophers, but unavailingly, as there was then no chronometrical instrument, upon which reliance might safely be placed. Huygens, in 1664, had contrived a time-piece actuated by a spring and regulated by a pendulum, but the pendulum was affected by the tossing of the ship, and by a change of temperature, as well as being subject, as was afterwards discovered, to a variation in weight depending on the parallel of latitude. The Academy of Sciences at Paris proposed, in 1720, a reward for the best paper in reply to the question:--'What is the most perfect method of preserving on the sea the equable motion of a pendulum?' The reward was given to a Dutchman named Massy, but his plan was not carried out. An English watch-maker named Henry Sully happened to be about this time in Paris directing a large manufactory of chronometers, and he presented the French Academy with a marine time-keeper of superior construction to the time-pieces of that period, and accompanied his gift by a memoir describing it. Whilst still engaged in the study of his art, Sully, who was a clever man, unfortunately died, and the opportunity of advance seemed to have passed away. About this time Graham invented the Mercurial Compensation pendulum, which consisted of a glass or iron jar filled with quicksilver and fixed to the end of the pendulum rod, which, when heat lengthened the rod, expanded simultaneously the quicksilver, and made the centre of oscillation to continue at the same distance from the point of suspension. He afterwards conceived a notion, which John Harrison subsequently worked out, of making a compensation pendulum (or a pendulum that should in itself contain the power of equalizing its own action, whatever the change of temperature), forming it of various metals. In 1726 Harrison invented what is called the gridiron pendulum, composed of nine rods, five of steel and four of brass, which are so arranged that those which expand most are counteracted upon by those of less expansion. These two compensation pendulums, the gridiron and mercurial, are still in use, and with slight improvements are found to keep to time very accurately. The period had now arrived for the making of marine time-keepers sufficiently accurate for nautical use, and styled chronometers because they are most accurate time-measurers. Their value to navigators, and the immense impetus which would by such instruments be given to the science of navigation, had long been foreseen, but there were many great difficulties in the way of obtaining a perfect chronometer. The sailor, before the invention of this instrument, could ascertain the latitude of his ship at sea, by observation of the fixed stars. Supposing these stars to have first appeared to him in the zenith, and at his next observation to be one, two, or three degrees south of the zenith, he would know that he had sailed just so many degrees north of the place in which he first observed them. It was not, however, so easy for him to compute longitudes, because the diurnal revolution of the earth causes each meridian to pass successively under the same stars. It was necessary to have an accurate time-keeper, and to set it carefully to the solar time of some port in the kingdom, whose longitude was well known. The time-piece might then be carried out in a vessel sailing abroad, and the computations made by means of it would prove most wonderfully exact and important. By simply observing the moment at which the sun reached his meridian, when of course it would be 12 o'clock at noon, solar time, and then noting the difference between the solar time thus ascertained and the time of the chronometer, the mariner would be able by calculating 15 degrees to one hour of time, or 15 geographical miles to one minute, to make out his longitude. For example, if the time-piece had been set to time at the meridian of Greenwich observatory, and if it be one o'clock by the time-piece when it is mid-day, or meridian by the sun, then the place in which the longitude is taken must be in long. 15 degrees east of the meridian of Greenwich, and if it be eleven o'clock by the chronometer when the sun attains his meridian, then the place must be in long. 15 degrees west of the meridian of Greenwich. It is not indispensably necessary, that every chronometer used for maritime purposes should keep time exactly with that of the Greenwich observatory, or of any other instrument of known excellence, provided always that its _rate_ as seamen call it, or the daily loss or gain of the chronometer, is well ascertained, and so may be computed in the calculations to be made. The indispensable requisite of a chronometer, however, is that the daily loss or gain shall not vary materially from itself at different periods, or under the changes of temperature of different climates, and these qualities being found in an instrument of any shape or make, constitute a marine chronometer. It will be generally obvious of what immense and universal importance it was for men who 'go down to the sea in ships and do their business on the great waters' to be provided with a chronometer, and so be enabled to calculate with a great degree of nicety,--almost as a traveller by land learns his distances by milestones and finger-posts,--the precise position on the wide ocean of the vessel they are engaged in navigating. So impressed was the British Parliament with the value of such an invention, that as early as 1714, in the reign of Queen Anne, a reward of £10,000 was offered, for any method for determining the longitude within the accuracy of one degree; of £15,000 within the limit of 40 geographical miles; and of £20,000 within the limit of 30 geographical miles, or half a degree, provided such method should extend 80 miles from the coast. In 1736 John Harrison invented the first chronometer, for which, after having added many improvements, he received the gold medal of the Royal Society in 1749. He still continued to persevere in improvements in his instrument, and at last applied to be allowed to test its powers in such a voyage as might permit of proof of its value. After some time his application was granted, and his son, William Harrison, embarked at Portsmouth, Nov. 18, 1761, for Jamaica. After eighteen days sailing the vessel was computed to be 13° 50´ west of Portsmouth, when the distance calculated by the watch was 15° 19´. When the vessel arrived at Madeira, on the 9th of December, it was found that the reckoning was corrected by the time of the piece, about a degree and a half. From Madeira to Jamaica the reckoning was amended 3°; and at the several islands where the ship touched the known longitudes agreed very closely with those indicated by the chronometer. Upon having returned again to England after a very stormy voyage, the instrument underwent examination, and its entire error amounted to 1^m. 53^s. 5. Harrison, on this report being made, obtained from Parliament a reward of £5000. A second experiment was afterwards made in 1764, in March of which year Harrison left Portsmouth with his instrument on board the Tartar for Barbadoes. He had previously conveyed to the Lords of the Admiralty his statement of the rates at which his chronometer went, and the extent to which it was affected by change of temperature. On May 13th the vessel arrived at Barbadoes, and it was found that the amount of the daily deviations from mean time was only 43^s. in excess. He returned to England after an entire voyage of 156 days, and found that, allowing the gain of one second per day as stated by him in his sealed 'rate,' the whole gain was only 54^s. Harrison then was examined by a committee appointed for the purpose, and, having explained satisfactorily to them the principles of his instrument, he received another £5000. A trial was then made by another person with a chronometer made upon Harrison's plan, and this experiment also terminating favourably, the remaining parliamentary reward was paid over to Harrison, amounting in all to £20,000, a sum which was still further increased by gratuities from the Board of Longitude and the East India Company. Harrison's improvements in time-measuring were of considerable importance, as any one may readily conceive, but he was sufficiently candid to acknowledge that the balance, balance-spring, and compensation curb, as then used, were not simultaneously affected by changes of temperature, that small pieces were more readily affected than large ones, and pieces in motion sooner than pieces at rest, whence he concluded that if the provision for heat and cold could properly be arranged in the balance itself, as in his gridiron pendulum-clocks, the time might be better kept. Harrison's suggestion of a compensation balance in lieu of a compensating curb, incited Peter le Roy, a native of France, to the consideration of the question, and ultimately to the invention of a balance acted upon by mercury and alcohol. The compensation was effected by the balance itself, which, carrying the two thermometers, adjusted the mercury nearer or farther from the centre of the balance, according to the state of the atmosphere. About this period there was considerable emulation exhibited, both here and on the continent, upon the subject of time-measuring. Sully had aided largely in the advancement of the art of watch-making in London and Paris. Berthoud, Julien, and Pierre le Roy made many ingenious propositions, and amongst others the invention of the detached escapement is attributed to the last-named. In England we find the names of Arnold, Earnshaw, and Mudge associated about this date with the greatest improvements in chronometry, and as being those to whom prizes were at different times awarded by the Board of Longitude. In fact, few great inventions have since been made in the art, and our present high position as chronometer-makers is mainly due to the skill, energy, and perseverance then exhibited. It would be superfluous to give any detailed description of the many valuable advantages derived from the science of horology, to which indeed all arts, sciences, trades, and callings are considerably indebted, and will probably be still more so in proportion to the increase of the use of steam-power and electricity. As by means of these recently-discovered powers mankind are enabled to compress into a day what would previously have required weeks and even months to accomplish, so must they regard with higher esteem, as these improvements are extended, the science by means of which they may divide and subdivide the precious minutes which are sufficient to perform so much. It will be worth while by way of illustration to point to the assistance given by horology to astronomical and nautical science. It is by means of carefully-made and exact chronometers that we calculate the distance and relations of the various heavenly bodies to ourselves and to one another. Having ascertained, by comparison, the rapidity of light and sound, and that the former travels at the rate of 192,000 miles per second, we discover that the light of the sun requires eight minutes to reach the earth, and thus compute the sun's actual distance from us. So also observing the number of seconds which elapse between the flash of lightning and the roll of thunder, or between the flash and report of a cannon, and remembering that in mild weather sound travels at the rate of 1123 feet, and in frosty weather 1080 feet in a second, we shall be able, on making allowances for the state of the atmosphere, to arrive at a tolerably correct conclusion as to distances. It is by means of a chronometer, though it be but a sand-glass, that the sailor uses his log-line at sea and finds the rate of his vessel's speed. His lead, enclosed in the log, or wood, is attached to the log-line, which has certain lengths called knots marked upon it for nautical miles, and according to the knots paid out in the half-minute of the sand-glass, so is the ship's rate of sailing, _i. e._, if ten knots are passed in half a minute the vessel's speed is at the rate of ten miles an hour. It would be both impossible and unnecessary to describe the various experiments in which it is of great consequence to measure time into minute proportions,--the number of these increases with advancing science; it will suffice if we have made the subject sufficiently interesting to the general reader to induce him to inquire further into the details. It is only by such investigations that he will be enabled to give anything like a proper answer to the question 'What is Time?' MODERN WATCHES: THEIR VARIETIES AND MODES OF MANUFACTURE. 'He that would wear a watch two things must do,-- Pocket his watch and watch his pocket too.'--_Old Maxim._ The first possession of a watch by young persons of either sex is perhaps one of the most vividly retained of all their early memories. The sense of responsibility, of importance, which such a wonderful little piece of mechanism gives to them, the alacrity with which they thenceforth note the flight of time and compare the working of all other time-pieces, is remarkable. One of the first things usually done by the juvenile with his or her watch is, curiously enough, to challenge thereby the performance of the old-established time-pieces in the house,--even the infallible old Hall Clock, a very Nestor among clocks, does not escape scrutiny. Woe be to his ancient reputation if, when 'weighed by the new balances'--compensation or otherwise,--he be 'found wanting.' The yet unfledged urchin will, upon the evidence of his own newly-acquired chronometer, unhesitatingly expose and denounce the slightest delinquency of the antique time-piece, and pride and plume himself accordingly. At this time of day, when watches of a sound and durable kind may be had for a comparatively small sum, and when education commences so early, it may be supposed that youths attain earlier to years of discretion, and so rise to the dignity of watch-wearers sooner than their predecessors did. Anyhow, the value of time can scarcely be inculcated at too juvenile an age, nor can it be brought home to the mind of the pupil without providing him with the means of studying the operations of his own personal time-keeper. From the hour when such a gift comes into his possession until the latest day of his life a watch remains his indispensable mentor, and, literally, his bosom-friend. There are few, perhaps none, who can look upon the face of an old watch, their day and night companion for many years, without associating it with the bygone times when it reckoned off for them their moments of pain or anxiety, their joys and sorrows. There is perhaps scarcely any memento of a friend or relative so suggestive as that semi-living object which has been his constant friend for so long, the chief valuable of all his 'portable property.' Our Old English popular rhymes and songs have frequently been pointed with witticisms directed at the care with which watches have been guarded, or the dexterity with which they have been filched away. Who can overlook the evergreen old dramatic joke, of which the point consisted in connecting the time-teller with the name of the ancient street-guardian; _e.g._:-- 'I knocked him down, then snatched it from his fob. "Watch, watch!" cried he, when I had done the job; "My watch is gone!" said he: said I, "Just so, Stop where you are, watches were made to go."' +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Horizontal Watch.] | | | | [Illustration: The Skeleton Lever Watch.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Who can forget Dickens's description of the watch of the wonderful Captain Cuttle, which, if you set so far forward at night and so far backward in the morning, was asserted to be 'a watch that would do anybody credit;' or again, how can we omit mention of that earlier Dickensian figure, mentioned by Sam Weller, wearing his enormous watch with so much happy fearlessness, his seals dangling from his fob, the continual temptation and despair of eager pick-pockets, whose ineffectual efforts to abstract the watch from such a tightly-protuberant stomach, were the never ceasing delight of its jolly proprietor? Who shall narrate the characteristics of the various fashions in watches, and the trinkets that were worn along with them, the manners of the fine gentlemen who carried two at a time soon after swords were exchanged for walking-canes, and when pantaloons anticipated the easier but less graceful trowsers? Snuff-boxes, bag-wigs, pig-tails, high cravats, shoe-buckles, have all gone more or less out of fashion, but the watch is a perennial, which may indeed change its outer-casing and its decorations, like man himself, but knows no period of absolute disuse since first it started into being. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Full Plate Patent English Lever.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Three-Quarter Plate English Lever.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ From the time when the first Nuremberg egg-watch was produced, there has always been noticeable an endeavour to make pocket time-pieces more and more small and portable so far as they could be made so consistently with their durability. Sometimes the love of very minute workmanship has been carried to an extreme, but toy-watches of eccentric shapes and patterns are but the few exceptions to the general rule, which has settled that usefulness and convenience are best provided for within certain moderate sizes, and that of all shapes the round and flat are the most easily carried. The great object of the watch-maker's ambition is to produce a time-keeper minutely accurate, and yet not so delicately constructed that it cannot withstand the rough usage to which even moderately careful wearers subject it. It has been estimated that the manufacture of and trade in watches annually in England, France, Switzerland, and America, amount to over £5,000,000 per ann.; and that in Switzerland alone there are 38,000 persons, one-third of whom are women, engaged in the manufacture. It is probable that even the immense number of new watches thus annually produced barely exceeds the growing requirements of the people, who, as they increase in intelligence and receive higher wages, soon learn the advantage of personally possessing a pocket time-keeper, and make it accordingly their first ambition to purchase one. The Watch Clubs which are formed in the various towns and rural districts throughout the kingdom enable this desire to be gratified at but small pecuniary inconvenience, inasmuch as payment is thus made in small instalments at fixed intervals, and the watch is bought with sums which might have been spent thoughtlessly and to no permanent benefit. This first lesson in thrift having been well learnt, and the result being so palpably beneficial to those who exercise it, has often laid the basis of a regular habit of economy. The motive power in the watch is derived, not as in the clock from weights, but from a spiral spring called THE MAINSPRING, set in a drum or barrel, and any inequality in the pressure of the spring is fatal to regular time-keeping. A highly tempered and finished spring is a primary requisite in watch-making; in order to provide for the uniform transmission of motive power from the barrel throughout the train to the escapement, the fusee and chain are used, the fusee being a hollow-sided cone, and the chain round it. When the spring is wound up its force is of course greatest, for the chain is then acting on the smallest end of the fusee. The proportions of the barrel to the centre wheel, and the size of the teeth in that wheel, have all to be carefully planned, and adjusted to one another, and these all again to the moving of the hands upon the dial. The ESCAPEMENT is one of the most important parts of the mechanism of a watch. It may be one of either of the following. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Verge Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The _Verge_ escapement, as applied to Watches, will be seen annexed, A, part of the balance; _b_, the verge body; C, C, the pallets; D, the escape-wheel; E, escape-wheel pinion. The verge or arbor B of the balance has two pallets, C, C, which stand out at right angles, so as to be acted on alternately by the sloping teeth in the opposite sides of the crown or escapement-wheel, C. The _Horizontal_ escapement, on the following page, so called because of the escape-wheel acting horizontally to the axis of the balance. This invention was perfected by Graham, after the death of the inventor, his master and friend, Thomas Tompion. _a_, the escape-wheel, having pins or stems rising from it, on the tops of which are teeth of a wedgelike form, of such a length as to permit little freedom within and without the cylinder _b_, which is firmly fixed to the balance _c_. Although _b_ is one piece, the two edges of the hollow part serve as distinct pallets, inasmuch as they receive alternately, during each vibration of the balance, an impulse from the curved outer edge of each tooth in succession; and as the wedge-shaped tooth passes from the pallet, the coming tooth falls on to the circular part of the cylinder, and there remains until the return of the balance, when that tooth which had previously rested on the circular portion of the cylinder, comes upon the edge or pallet, gives impulsion to the balance _c_, and falls upon the concave portion of the cylinder, and there remains until the balance again returns, when another impulse takes place, and so on in succession. Watches having the cylinder escapement were not known in France till the year 1728, when Julien le Roy obtained one of them from Graham. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Horizontal Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Duplex Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The _Duplex_ escapement is of a very peculiar construction, and nearly approaches the chronometer; it is probable that it was originally invented by Dr Hooke, although, as we now have it, it came from the hands of Tyrer. It is seen in our illustration. A, the escape-wheel; B, the escape-wheel teeth; C, the balance; D, the pallet of impulse; E, the ruby roller; F, a notch in ditto: 1, 2, 3, cogs or upright teeth on the rim of the escape-wheel. The balance is supposed to be turning downwards towards the right, the tooth of the escape-wheel just resting against the ruby roller. When this (which is called the return) vibration is complete, the balance, by the strength of the hair spring, is carried in the opposite direction, and as the notch F passes the tooth of the escape-wheel, this latter is enabled to pass the roller, and the upright tooth or cog falls upon the pallet D, and thus gives impulse to the balance. The next straight tooth of the escape-wheel is now resting against the roller _e_, and the same operation again takes place. This escapement is much superior to the horizontal, and is almost independent of oil. It can carry a balance of much greater weight, and when well made performs admirably. Duplex watches, however, should never be selected by persons who are accustomed to ride on horseback, as these instruments are liable to be affected by any sudden motion. Even the stepping quickly from a vehicle may stop them, and yet the escapement be as perfect as possible. They are only adapted for persons of very quiet habits. Thomas Mudge, in the year 1766, introduced an admirable invention, which, after many alterations and improvements, is now universally known as the '_Patent Detached Lever_' escapement, represented by--_a a_ the escapement-wheel, _b b_ the ruby pallets, _c_ the lever, _d_ the balance. On the axis of the balance _d_, towards the lever _c_, is a small disc of steel, into which is inserted a small pin made of ruby. This pin fits with great nicety into a notch or opening in the end of the lever _c_, upon which are firmly fixed the two pallets _b b_, into which are secured rubies very finely polished. The balance in its vibration on either side, carrying with it the steel disc and ruby pin, causes that pin to enter the notch in the lever and carry the lever with it, and at the same time, to draw the pallet from the tooth of the escapement-wheel _a_. Power being exerted upon this wheel by the mainspring, the wheel tooth gets disengaged from the locking-face of the pallet, forces itself down the slopes of the pallet, and thus gives impulse to the balance. At each vibration the same unlocking takes place, but as soon as the wheel tooth falls from the slope, the opposite pallet is prepared to receive the advancing tooth of the escapement-wheel, and so on in succession beat after beat takes place. So excellent was this escapement considered a few years back, that chronometers were made upon the principle, and placed in the Royal Observatory for public trial. But since then many improvements have been made in it, so that makers are now enabled to produce a pocket watch, with the short angle lever escapement, which marks time at a steady rate of within four or five seconds weekly,--a rate which approaches so near to the time-keeping of a pocket chronometer, that unless the minutest exactness for some specific purpose is required, the last-named watch is all that can be wished for. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Lever Escapement.] | | | | [Illustration: Chronometer Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ About the year 1780 was invented the escapement which is now denominated the Detached or _Chronometer Escapement_ (see opposite page), the principles of which are the nearest approach to perfection, the impulse to the balance being given at the centre of vibration. A is the escape-wheel, B the escape-wheel teeth, C the roller let on the verge, or axis of the balance. This roller is a circle of polished steel, with a notch cut out of it, into one side of which, D, a flat polished piece of ruby is inserted for the acting part. Below this steel roller, carried on the same verge, is a smaller roller of steel (E), denominated the discharging pallet, having a sapphire fixed on its outer edge. F is a slender spring, which is screwed at I to the stouter one, having its fixture at the stud L, and polished away very thin at K, in order that it may bend readily, so as to cause very little resistance to the balance while forcing it on one side. G is a projecting piece, carrying an upright pin made of ruby, against which the wheel tooth B rests; at B is a small screw against which the spring L K G strikes, and thus prevents it from springing too far back. The action of these parts is as follows:--When at rest the circular edge of C is just clear of the two teeth of the wheel B, which cannot be set in motion while E and G remain quiescent; G rests against the screw at B, and the tooth resting against the locking pallet G, the escapement-wheel cannot turn. To set the chronometer going it is necessary to give it a rotary motion, which sets the balance in action. This causes the lower piece on the verge (called the lifting piece or discharging pallet) to strike against the end of the spring F, which, from its over-lapping the curved end of the prolonged spring K G, pushes it back, and thus releases the pin or locking stone G from before the tooth of the wheel: that is, it unlocks the escapement-wheel, which is immediately set in motion by the force of the mainspring. The same vibration given to balance and verge brings the ruby pallet D round before the tooth B, which strikes against it and carries it round. The recoil of the spring F has now brought the locking pallet G to catch the tooth B, the escapement-wheel is thus again stopped. But the stroke of the tooth upon the face of the ruby pallet D has driven the balance on in its vibration till it is counteracted by the tension of the balance spring, which brings it back again; in this return vibration the lifting pallet E, by its curved back, pushes the slender spring F before it, and passes it without affecting K, G, which is stiff enough to remain unmoved by F, even when this strikes and rests against it in recoiling. The wheel, therefore, continues locked on the upright pallet G, and the vibration proceeds uncontrolled till the great pallet is again brought round, and the balance spring again checks the vibration, the above process being repeated. In this escapement, consequently, part of one vibration in one direction, and the whole of that in the other, is performed without the balance being in any way under the influence of the motive power; while the parts are so contrived that the impulse given by the tooth of the escape-wheel, affects in a very slight degree the natural motion of the balance. It can be easily understood that the lifting pallet E can pass the spring F in one direction without moving K and G, while in the other it carries E and G with it. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Compensation Balance.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Several appliances have been from time to time introduced to correct the error in time-keeping caused by variations in the temperature, but none have come into such general use as that known by the term '_Compensation Balance_,' invented by Thomas Earnshaw, of London, and for which he received a government reward. This balance, when properly adjusted, causes the watch to keep the same time whether the temperature be 32 deg. or 90 deg.; while without it a watch will show a considerable difference in time, on being merely transferred from the pocket to the dressing-table, where, probably, the temperature would not be so high. Our woodcut represents a balance of this kind; the divided rim A A, is composed of steel and brass run together by fusion, the more expansible metal, brass, being placed outwards, the result of which is as follows:--Heat elongates the pendulum spring, and thereby causes a slower vibration of the balance. The same amount of heat will also expand the metals composing the balance; but as the inner rim of steel does not expand so freely as the outer one of brass, the conflicting action of the two tends to draw the free end of the circular rim inwards towards its centre, and thus decreases in all but one direction the diameter of the balance. This decrease tends to _quicken_ its vibration, and thus counteracts the effect of the elongation of the pendulum spring. In cold temperatures the pendulum spring is contracted, making the vibrations quicker, but the contraction of the brass rim draws the free end outwards, thus increasing its diameter, retarding its vibrations, and counteracting the effect of the contraction of the pendulum spring. Many contrivances have been introduced to test the equality of compensation balances, but the majority have been abandoned from the circumstance that the heat was not equally distributed to the watches under trial. In pursuance of this object, an oven was invented, heated by hot water, which answers the desired end. It is an apparatus made of copper, two feet high, thirteen inches broad, and eight inches deep. From the top to the bottom, at the distance of fifteen inches, it is divided into two compartments. All around the upper one (except the front, which has a glass door through which the chronometers and watches are seen without opening it) is one inch of water. It has a chamber thirteen inches high, eleven inches broad, and seven inches deep for the reception of chronometers and watches. The water is introduced at the top in the same manner as a solar lamp is supplied with oil. The bottom compartment contains a jet of gas, which can at pleasure be regulated so as to keep the watch at any required temperature. The heat radiated from the inner surface of the chronometer chamber is thus equally distributed among the instruments under trial. A thermometer placed within the upper chamber indicates the temperature, and by this simple apparatus a watch can be regulated with the greatest nicety to suit the particular climate into which it may be taken. The DIAL AND HANDS should be sufficiently in contrast one to the other to show the time at a glance. Dials are sometimes made of gold or silver, but these are not so distinctly seen as white enamelled dials, with black figures or numerals, and dark blue steel hands; the enamelled faces, although, perhaps, more brittle than gold or silver dials, are therefore in greatest request. Up to a comparatively recent date the seconds' hand was placed upon the level face of the watch, but sunk seconds are now everywhere in use, even in the cheaper sorts of watches. The chief objection taken to the sunk seconds is that it disfigures the dial by breaking the uniformity of the numeral letters, the VI being of course obliterated to make room for it, but this obliteration seems of smaller consequence than the confusion which may arise from the use of longer seconds' hands and their being at any time mistaken for that of the hour or minute. The JEWELLING of a watch is an important part of its manufacture, inasmuch as it is by means of jewels that durability is chiefly secured. Watch pivots would rapidly wear out the metal in those parts in which there is continual friction, and jewelling has therefore become general. The watch-maker uses for his best watches a peculiarly hard kind of ruby, which has been known to withstand the wear and tear of the best part of a century without showing symptoms of yielding, whereas inferior jewels are perhaps scarcely so hard as the best tempered metal. The FRAME, usually of brass gilt, sustains both ends of each axis, and is now principally designed to fit a full-plate movement or a three-quarter-plate movement. The former is undoubtedly the more simple construction, but with considerable disadvantage in taking to pieces the watch and putting it together again when repairs are needed. The examination of the escapement in a full-plate watch, and the cleaning, or altering, or oiling which may be needed, cannot be done without taking the whole movement to pieces. The three-quarter-plate movement is not only preferable on account of its superiority in respect to solidity, and the economy of labour in its manufacture, but from its being flatter than the full-plate watch, and allowing of repairs being more easily made. The WATCH-CASE, which used to be of various materials, such as tortoiseshell, pinchbeck, or one of the precious metals, is now almost universally of gold or silver. Silver cases are invariably of the standard required by the law and stamped accordingly; gold cases vary in fineness,--some being made and stamped of 9 carat gold, but the best for wear, and as such preferred by the best makers, are of 18 carats, and are stamped as such with the hall mark, usually in three or four places,--on the bow, the pendant, and the inside of the case. Much depends upon the care with which this part of a watch is finished, for an ill-fitting case admits dust which renders frequent cleaning necessary, and prevents accurate time-keeping. After the casemaker has constructed the case it has to pass through several hands before it is completed,--for instance, it is one man's work to fit the works to the case by making the joint at the 12 o'clock and the bolt at 6 o'clock, and to supply the wheels to propel the hands; it is another's to perform the part of engine turner, and to mark the case with those curiously intricate lines whose wonderful precision cannot be secured by mere hand-work, but by a combination of mechanical and human labour; another's to finish the joints, or, as the uninitiate would perhaps call them, the hinges; and last of all the fitter of the case with springs, and polisher to give the necessary finish. In the same way has each part of the mechanism of the interior passed through a series of workmen's hands. Nearly every wheel and pinion has been separately made by men whose entire time is given to the perfecting of their several branches of labour, the subdivisions of which and their ramifications would need many lengthy chapters of description, to do them justice. The escapement is of itself a distinct department requiring a number of co-operating hands, from those which first shape the metal to the balance-maker working in brass, steel, or gold, and the final adjustment of the escapement-maker. The chain, the spring, the jewelling, the brass-work, the engraving, the gilding, have each their separate history, some of them being brought from one district and some from another, to be put together in the watch manufactory, which is finally to produce them unitedly as an entire watch. Division of labour provides a larger amount of skilled work, and a more satisfactory result, than any other method. The workman whose entire life is spent in making the head of a pin or in fixing it on, will do his work better than the man, however clever he may be, who should attempt to make the whole pin; and not only is the work thus better done, but it is done by combination much more expeditiously and cheaply. All that the watch-manufacturer can do by way of choosing his materials is, however, of course, but antecedent to his own work of actual construction, of finishing, examining, and regulating. He is to the watch what the architect is to a house; the latter is none the less the rearer of the structure because he did not himself make the bricks, or saw the timber, or mix the mortar. Each subordinate brings certain materials to the hand of the constructor, and he combines them, and gives them their places, he turns them into shape and produces them as a perfect whole. So the watch-manufacturer, instead of going himself back through the various stages of work which in Nuremberg-egg time had, perhaps, all to be done by one pair of hands, chooses, adapts, combines the labours of hundreds of busy collaborateurs, all of whom have made portions and pieces,--he alone makes the Watch. COMPLICATED WATCHES are so called because besides the ordinary watch movement they possess other mechanism more or less complicated, by means of which they can indicate special portions of time,--as for instance the _Chronograph_, which marks on its dial the fifth of a second; the _Quarter_, and _Half-Quarter_, and _Minute Repeaters_, which furnish the time in the dark to within a minute, and are invaluable to invalids and blind persons; the _Clock-Watch_, which strikes the hours even in the pocket; the _Clock-Watch Repeater_, which strikes and repeats; the _Independent split Centre Seconds, and Fifth Seconds Watch_, which shows (by comparing the one with the other) the lapse of time to the fifth of a second; the _Perpetual Calendar Watch_, which shows the day of the week and of the month, the name of the month, the phases of the moon, &c.; the _Perpetual Calendar Repeating Watch_, which in addition to the calendar shows by a repeater the hour, quarter, and minute; and the _Meridian Watch_, which shows the time of day in any given number of places in any part of the world. A few words descriptive of the peculiarities of each of the above complicated watches will be necessary here, and observing the sequence as above, the following brief particulars will perhaps be sufficient for ordinary reference, or for being kept in memory. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Complicated Watches.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The CHRONOGRAPH is undoubtedly the most perfect instrument yet invented for marking the exact time occupied by certain rapid movements or events or performances,--and is therefore well adapted for astronomical and medical observations, for timing machinery, for indicating the speed of a race, and of similar quick events even to the tenth of a second. It consists of an ordinary quick train lever movement on a scale sufficiently large to carry the hands for an 8-inch dial. The peculiar feature of the chronograph is its second hand, which is double, consisting of two distinct hands,--the one lying over the other. The lower of the two is furnished at the tip with a small reservoir having an extremely small orifice below; over this orifice the point of the upper hand is bent so as to fall exactly upon the puncture, and to convey through it, as with a pen, the ink held in the reservoir. The mode of operating with the chronograph at a race has been thus described. 'The chronograph is held firmly in the left hand of the operator, who watches the starters, but need not trouble himself to keep at the same time an eye upon the dial. At the moment of the start he presses the finger or thumb of his right hand gently upon the button of the pendant, and instantly a black dot is deposited on the dial, and--the operator being ready to touch the button at the precise moment of the finish, and thus to complete what we may call the chronogram of the event--the exact length of the race is registered, even to a decimal fraction of a second, and an indisputable record written by the instrument itself in black and white. The chronograph, it should be mentioned is, apart from its chronographic mechanism, an excellent time-keeper, and may be worn as an ordinary watch, being the same size as a gentleman's lever watch. REPEATING WATCHES are now made so as to require no key. They are constructed with a lever or chronometer escapement, and are known according to their method of repeating,--the ordinary _Repeater_ strikes the hours and quarters,--the _Half-quarter Repeater_ strikes the hours, quarters, and half-quarters,--the _Minute Repeater_ strikes hours, quarters, and minutes. The first tells the time in the dark or to the blind person to within a quarter of an hour, the second tells it within seven minutes and a half, the third tells it to the minute. The CLOCK WATCH and CLOCK REPEATING WATCH are also made so as to need no key. They strike the hours and quarters while being worn in the pocket, and have not only the two trains of wheels for going and striking as in a clock, but a third train provided for repeating purposes. Both mainsprings are wound up by the same winder by a forward and backward action of the pendant. They are constructed with either Lever, Duplex, or Chronometer Escapements, and some are provided with compensation balances adjusted to act equally at extremes of temperature. THE INDEPENDENT CENTRE SECONDS WATCH is peculiarly adapted for the use of the medical profession. By means of its two trains it carries, besides the ordinary hands denoting hours, minutes, and seconds, a long seconds hand which can be stopped without stopping the watch. It is made with a stem winder, and therefore requires no key. THE SPLIT CENTRE SECONDS is not quite so complicated as the last named. It has two centre second hands revolving round the dial, the one directly over the other, as also, in another part of the dial, a small hand revolving five times in a second. Upon pressing a stop-piece one of the long second hands is stopped, and another pressure will stop the other--the space between the two hands will then indicate precisely the time occupied by the event which it is desired to measure. Another push to the stop-piece will make both hands again fly together, and enable the operator it may be to make a new experiment or observation. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Perpetual Calendar Keyless Watch.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ THE PERPETUAL CALENDAR KEYLESS WATCH, shows on its dial the year, the month of the year, the day of the month, the day of the week, the phases of the moon, as well as hours, minutes, and seconds. It requires no setting, as the old-fashioned Calendar Watch did at certain intervals, but, by a very ingenious contrivance, the changes from month to month, as for example from February 28th to the 1st of March, or from 30th or 31st of other months to the 1st of the next, are all performed by the watch, which also of itself marks the extra day for Leap Year. When to all the above are added, as is sometimes done, the Minute Repeating Work to repeat the hours, quarters, and minutes, it may be said that the power of complication can no farther go within the limits of the small box which is called a watch case,--for these watches are provided with either Lever, Duplex, or Chronometer Escapements as may be preferred, and with compensation balances adjusted to serve in extremes of temperature. But in the examples set forth in the following illustrations, it will be seen that superadded to all the foregoing are a thermometer, and an index showing the calendar by the old and new style, as indicated by the words Gregorian and Russian,--the former referring to Pope Gregory who decreed the alteration to the new style, and the latter to the fact that the Russians still reckon by the old style. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Perpetual Calendar.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ THE COMPLICATED PERPETUAL CALENDAR AND INDEPENDENT SECONDS KEYLESS WATCH, is another example of this kind of mechanism, which, without being re-set from time to time for leap year and other changes, keeps a perpetual register of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, shows Old and New Styles, the phases of the moon, and variations of heat and cold. It has also two separate trains of wheels and two mainsprings, both of which are wound up by the button at the pendant. It will be seen that the dial has two hour circles with hour and minute hands showing separate time. Below the centre is the sunk seconds dial with two seconds hands, the one over the other, and each working independently, so that the one may be stopped by a push at the button of the pendant and yet the other go on, to be in its turn stopped, so that the operator may use it as a stopwatch. Underneath the hour hands of each circle is the hand showing the month and the day of the week. The two centre hands, with the letters G and R, are pointing to the days of the month, and showing the Gregorian and Russian day. In the small square space just below the centre is the year, and below this and lying over the second hands is another hand pointing to the degrees of temperature to which the watch is exposed; near the top of the dial is a small plate showing the phases of the moon,--the position indicated in this illustration is that of full moon. The MERIDIAN WATCH shows the time of day in any number of places in any part of the world. It is set to Greenwich time, and marks the difference between this and the time of all the great metropolitan cities in both hemispheres,--as St Petersburg, Constantinople, New York. The name CHRONOMETER,--derived from the +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Meridian Watch.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Greek, and meaning a time-measurer,--is chiefly applied to marine time-pieces and to watches which have been carefully made with chronometer or detached escapements and compensating balances serving to equalize the effects of heat and cold. MARINE CHRONOMETERS are the chief instruments for discovering the longitude at sea, and are therefore subjected to special tests at Greenwich observatory and elsewhere before being sent on board ship. They have dials of three or four inches in diameter, hour, minute, and second hands, besides a hand to indicate the day upon which the instrument was last wound up,--and they are made to go from two to eight days. Being well mounted on gimbals inside of an air and water-tight brass case they do not toss about with the motion of the ship but always preserve their equilibrium. For extra protection they are generally kept enclosed in a mahogany case. Chronometers have for their motive power, like watches and spring-clocks, a mainspring acting on the fusee by the chain,--as the chain winds upon the fusee the force of the spring is so equalized that it is exactly the same whatever the position of the chain. When marine chronometers are sent to the Greenwich observatory they are subjected, under the directions of the Astronomer Royal, to extreme degrees of heat and cold, and up to the year 1835 prizes were awarded to those makers whose instruments best stood these tests; but such prizes are no longer given. It has even been found that chronometers which are most capable of withstanding extremes of temperature are not the most perfect in medium climates, and this discovery brought about new endeavours and a new suggestion known as the Auxiliary or Secondary Compensation. MARINE TIME-PIECES FOR SHIPS AND YACHTS. These instruments possess the character rather of clocks than of chronometers, inasmuch as they are designed to hang against a bulk-head, and they would not appear unsuitable to house purposes. They are portable and useful clocks, and having a lever escapement with compensated balance, the motion of the vessel does not affect them. Some yacht time-pieces are constructed so as to chime the quarters or tunes, and to strike the ships' bells as well as the hours. They are also sometimes placed in very handsome cases of bronze or ormolu, decorated with special designs to illustrate the name of the ship or yacht to which they belong. Their movements are not as accurately adjusted as those of Marine Chronometers, but they, nevertheless, are made to keep time excellently. KEYLESS WATCHES. The keyless mechanism to a watch is one of the great modern improvements in watch work; it does away with the old-fashioned key, with which so many persons have ruined their watches, the watch is wound by turning a knurled knob, placed on the handle or bow (see illustrations, pp. 96-7) instead of by the ordinary means: the hands are set in the same way, with the addition of pressing a small projection on the side of the case. The advantages of these improvements are obvious; the case, which never need be opened in winding, is made air tight and dust tight, thus preserving much longer the fluidity of the oil, and greatly prolonging the intervals between the necessary cleaning of the watch. Besides which, the keyless mechanism being attached to the watch, the key can never be lost or mislaid, or worn out. _Strict attention to the following simple Directions is necessary for the proper Management of a Watch._ 1st.--Wind your watch as nearly as possible at the same time every day--the morning is the best. Care should be taken to avoid sudden jerks. 2nd.--Be careful that your key is in good condition, free from dust and cracks. It should not be kept in the waistcoat pocket, or in any place where it is liable to rust or get filled with dust. 3rd.--Keep the watch while being _wound_ steadily in the hand, so as to avoid all circular motion. 4th.--The watch, when hung up, must have support, and be perfectly at rest; or, when laid horizontally, let it be placed on a soft substance for more general support, otherwise the action of the balance will generate a pendulous motion of the watch, and cause much variation in time. 5th.--The hands of a duplex or chronometer watch should never be set backwards; in other watches this is a matter of no consequence, but to avoid accidents it is much better to set them always forward. 6th.--Should the watch vary by heat or cold, as when worn or not worn in the pocket, the hands may be set to time, but the regulator should not be altered; but when it is found necessary to alter the regulator, it should be done gently, and very little at a time. 7th.--_The glass should never be opened in watches that are set and regulated at the back._ 8th.--Keep your watch-pocket free from dust or nap, which generally accumulates in the pocket when much used. 9th.--Be cautious to whom you give your watch for repair; the best watches being frequently irretrievably damaged by inexperienced workmen. Never allow your watch to go longer than two years without being cleaned. HOUSE CLOCKS. Between the small wooden Dutch Clock of the value of but a few shillings, and the carefully-made Regulator Clock which costs ten times as many pounds, there is necessarily a wide difference; but both may be considered as within the general designation, 'House Clocks.' The former sometimes go for many years with a fair amount of regularity, and are found to be useful to the humblest classes, whose hours for early morning labour are frequently regulated thereby. The latter are made with such accuracy as to correct the time of other clocks, such as turret and church clocks, which are more exposed to the influence of the weather, and are necessarily made upon a coarser scale. In large mansions there is no handsomer or more necessary appointment for the hall or vestibule than a fine eight-day clock, 'to welcome the coming, speed the parting guest,' and to give the time of day to the entire household. It would be worth while, did our purpose admit of it, to write a chapter on the longevity of Clocks, by way of showing the comparative cheapness of the solid, well-built piece of mechanism whose every item has been carefully put together of the very best and most durable materials by the most skilled horologers. For generation after generation such a sound, well-made time-piece shall keep accurate time, and put to shame by both its performance and the insignificant expense of keeping it in order, the instruments of, it may be, more showy appearance, but less careful construction. Such a clock descends from father to son until its own age is scarcely to be remembered, and is regarded as one of the family heir-looms,--nay, as more,--almost, we would say, as a friend familiar with all the scenes and experiences which have made up family history. It was of such a clock that Longfellow wrote-- 'By day its voice is low and light, But in the silent dead of night, Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, It echoes along the vacant hall, Along the ceiling, along the floor, And seems to say, at each chamber-door, For ever--never, Never, for ever.' It was such an one that Dickens apostrophized in that wonderfully-genial style which won for him so much love and fame:--'My old cheerful, companionable clock. How can I ever convey to others an idea of the comfort and consolation that this old clock has been for years to me!... What other thing that has not life could cheer me as it does! what other thing that has not life (I will not say how few things that have) has proved the same patient, true, untiring friend! How often have I sat in the long winter evenings feeling society in its cricket voice! how often in the summer twilight, when my thoughts have wandered back to a melancholy past, have its regular whisperings recalled them to the calm and peaceful present! how often, in the dead tranquillity of night, has its bell broken the oppressive silence, and seemed to give me assurance that the old clock was still on guard at my chamber-door!' The Hall clock is often a plain, simple, undecorated instrument, where all others are perhaps somewhat ornamented. Bracket clocks for the staircase or landings, Mantelpiece clocks for the drawing and dining rooms, for the study, the boudoir, and the best bed rooms, have each their separate shape and character specially designed, and are to be found in simple black-stained wood or real ebony, in marble of different colours, in bronze, in buhl, and in ormolu, with or without enamel ornaments, and with or without miniature figures at base, sides, and top. Until lately most of our ornamental mantelpiece clocks were imported from the continent, although French workmanship is generally inferior to our own, but preference was shown by the public to the former on account of the greater attention given by the French to external decorations and variety of pattern. I am endeavouring to provide that for the future this branch of clockmaking shall not be abandoned entirely to our continental neighbours, whose exports of this kind to our country yearly are very considerable. Henceforth by means of new designs specially made for me and by me, and of a sufficiently skilled staff of artistic workmen, selected for the purpose of working under my superintendence, on my own premises, I shall be able to compete on equal, nay, as to mechanism, on superior, terms with the best specimens of decorated clocks from foreign _atéliers_. There is no reason why the admitted superiority of English mechanism should not be coupled with the best designs for decorated clock-cases; there is every reason why handsome clocks should be made which will keep time well, and add not only by their beauty but their usefulness to the enjoyment of domestic life. If the proverb, 'handsome is that handsome does,' applies to clocks, English workmanship should soon obtain pre-eminence, for it is well known that the principle upon which French clocks are generally made renders them less durable time-pieces. The most ancient clocks differed in many respects from those now in use. Clocks of the earlier period had, as we have said, instead of the pendulum now in use, a _balance_, vibrating on the top of the clock, as the regulating medium. The escapement was of the verge construction, a sketch of which will be seen below, which represents a clock of a most ancient character. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Old Balance-Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Without entering into any very minute detail of the manner in which motion in a clock is successively communicated from one toothed wheel (G or R) or pinion (_e_ or _g_) to another, which, indeed, would only tend to perplex the mind of the general reader, it will be sufficient to state the following. S is a square piece of steel fixed to and forming part of the pinion P. In winding the clock the key is placed upon this square, and being turned round continuously in one direction, the pinion P turns with it. This communicates its motion to the wheel R, which is fixed to the cylinder B, and which in its revolution coils or winds up the cord to which is attached the weight A. While this takes place the wheel G is held in check by another wheel, called the 'ratchet,' and a click (neither of which is seen in the sketch), but when the operation of the winding is completed, and the weight A begins to descend, the cylinder B, together with the wheel G, turn on their common pivots V, V, and the motion is thus communicated from wheel to pinion until it reaches the escapement-wheel I. The teeth of this wheel, in its revolution, act alternately on the pallets _i_, _h_, which project from and form part of the spindle or verge K, M, and thus produce a vibratory or backward and forward motion of the balance L, L. Were it not for this detention, the duration of which is much increased by the swing of the balance, the weight A would descend with gradually accelerated speed, till, in a few moments, the cord would be entirely unwound from the cylinder, and the clock be at rest. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Clock Spring.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The SPRING CLOCK as ordinarily made is thus constructed. The frame consists of two oblong plates of brass pinned together by short pillars, and pierced with holes, in which run the arbors of the various wheels. Next, the mainspring, the moving or motive power of the clock, which is a riband of steel, highly tempered, and enclosed in a cylinder or barrel. In the middle of this barrel is the spring or barrel arbor, to which the spring is hooked at one end, the other end being fixed to the circumference of the barrel. Outside the frame or plate, and at the end of the arbor, is the ratchet, a wheel with saw-like teeth. This is acted upon by a click, which, falling into the ratchet teeth, prevents the recoil of the mainspring, so that the spring has no means of uncoiling itself, except by the moving of the train of wheels. This click is screwed to the outside of the oblong plate. The power of the mainspring is transmitted to the train of wheels by means of a chain or gut, one end of which is fastened to the outer edge of the barrel, and the other end to the fusee, which is of conical shape, securely fastened to the arbor or axis of the main wheel; on this same arbor is the square, on which the key is put for winding. When this square is turned in winding, the fusee draws the chain or gut from off the outer edge of the barrel, and coils up the spring within it. The spring when fully wound, and consequently at its greatest power, acts by means of the chain or gut on the small end of the fusee, which in turning drives the train of wheels. As the spring becomes gradually uncoiled, and the power exerted less, the leverage is increased in the same proportion by the increased width of the fusee on which it acts. To prevent the straining of the spring, a little contrivance called the stop-work is introduced. It consists of a piece of steel somewhat in the shape of a bayonet, which is so fixed and contrived that the last turn of the gut or chain on the fusee forces the stop into contact with a projection on the end of the fusee, which abutting against it, forms the check felt when the clock is wound up. On the same arbor with the fusee is fixed the main wheel, which with the before-described contrivance of click and ratchet, permits the turning of the fusee or winding-up of the clock, while it itself remains stationary. This wheel acts in the centre pinion (a pinion is a little wheel playing in the teeth of a larger wheel, and has six, eight, ten, or twelve teeth, or, as they are called, leaves), which is fixed to the centre arbor, and carries the minute hand. This pinion is so constructed in relation to the other parts of the clock as to make one revolution in an hour; the centre wheel being firmly riveted on the pinion, it must also revolve once an hour. The centre wheel acts into another pinion, which is called the third wheel pinion, upon the arbor or axle of which is securely fixed the third wheel, which again acts in the escape-pinion carrying the escapement-wheel. On the top of the back plate is firmly screwed the back cock, or the support of the pendulum, which is suspended from it by a flexible spring, as before described. This pendulum receives impulsion from the wheel-work by means of the crutch, a small part attached to the arbor of the pallets, and which projects downwards about three inches, parallel with the pendulum rod. To the lower part of the crutch is screwed or riveted at a right angle a piece of steel, in such a direction as to penetrate the pendulum rod, which has a slot or hole cut to receive it; impulsion is thus given to the pendulum. Between the frame and dial-plate is the motion work, consisting of three wheels; the first, called the minute wheel, is attached to the arbor of the centre wheel, which, it will be recollected, makes one revolution an hour, and acts in a wheel of the same size, whose axle carries a pinion serving to drive the hour wheel. This hour wheel is supported by a bridge screwed over the minute wheel. The dial is pinned on to the front plate; the hour hand is fixed on a socket communicating with the hour wheel, and the minute hand on the arbor of the centre wheel. When a clock is intended to strike, a separate train of wheels has to be introduced into it,--one train of wheels serving to keep the time, and another train for the striking part. It may be as well to add that a greater amount of labour is required to make the striking than the going part of a clock. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Rack Striking Work.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ There are only two kinds of striking parts now in use, and these are characterized by the terms 'Rack' striking work, and 'Count-wheel,' or 'Locking-plate,' striking work. The Rack striking work (see next page) is the best and safest ever introduced, because with it the clock may be made to strike any number of times within the hour. A, the minute wheel revolving in the direction of the arrow, and driving the wheel B, which is of the same size, and has the same number of teeth. C, a pin fixed in the wheel B, and acting on the lever D, which has its centre of motion in the point E. L, the click, the lower point of which acts in the teeth K of the rack M. S, the rack-spring, which acts upon the lower end of the rack, or, as it is called, the rack-tail, and brings it in contact with the snail P. Q and R are the jumper and its spring, by which the snail P, fastened to the star-wheel O, is kept in its place. Y, the centre of motion of the rack, on which it acts freely. In the wheel A is fixed a pin U, which, as the wheel A rotates, gradually forces before it a tooth of the star-wheel O, which carries with it the snail P, until at last the second step of the snail is opposite the rack-tail. While this is going on, the wheel B, driven by the wheel A, is advancing in the opposite direction, and, by means of the pin C, is pushing before it the end of the lever D. It is obvious that the other end, F, of the lever will be gradually raised, and this will lift the lower point of the click L out of the teeth of the rack. The latter being now free will yield to the action of the spring S, which will force its lower end into contact with the second step of the snail, and throw back the head of the rack to a corresponding extent. By this action the striking train of wheels is released, and the two wheels, G and I, seen in the upper part of our cut, begin to rotate, but are stopped by H, a pin that is caught by a stud which projects from the end F of the lever. As the wheel B advances, the pin C gradually frees itself from the long arm of the lever D, which drops by its own weight into its original position, and frees the wheels G and I, which immediately commence once more to rotate. At the centre of the wheel I is fixed the gathering pallet, that, as it revolves with the wheel, gathers up one by one the teeth of the rack, which is prevented from falling back by the lower end of the click L, and thus gradually draws it forward until the last tooth is reached, when the end of the gathering pallet abuts on the end of the rack head, and the train of wheels is once more at rest. It is obvious that for every tooth of the rack which is gathered up, there is one revolution of the wheel I, and this communicates with the tail of the hammer, causing at each revolution a blow on the bell. There is, as will be at once seen, an important connection between the various parts. When the second step of the snail is presented to the rack-tail, the head of the rack is thrown back a distance corresponding to the width of two of its teeth. This requires two revolutions of the gathering pallet to return it to its place; and these two revolutions of the pallet and the wheel which carries it govern the two blows on the bell which signify the hour. At three o'clock the third step of the snail will be presented to the hammer-tail, and so on. On the next page is an illustration of the back part of a French Clock, as seen upon opening the door of the case. At the right hand side will be observed the count-wheel A, fitting tightly upon a prolonged square arbor of the second wheel in the train, and having twelve openings of unequal length around its outer edge, 1, 2, &c. Just above the wheel towards the right will also be seen the 'Dog,' or 'Detent,' F, which falls into these notches, and is a part of the locking similar to that which is represented at the stud and the pin H. So soon as the stud is lifted the pin becomes disengaged, the wheel-work revolves, and the count-wheel being firmly fixed to the prolonged arbor of one of those wheels, advances with it in the direction indicated by the arrow, the detent resting upon the plain part of the locking-wheel. When the required number of hours have struck, the notch approaches the detent, the gravity of which allows it to fall therein. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Back of French Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ In connection with this detent is also another projecting piece, which is carried inside the frame, and when it falls presents a broad surface to a pin fixed in the rim of one of the wheels. Thus the motion of the wheel-work is stayed until this piece is again lifted by the going parts from the pin, and held in that position by the outer rim of the locking-wheel A, until again the next notch is presented to the detent. When it falls, the stud is carried with it, against which the pin becomes engaged. The number of strokes depends on the distance which the count-wheel has to revolve before being stopped by the detent F. The chief objection to the locking-plate being used for striking, arises from the fact that, if ever the clock is allowed to run down, or if the clock gets otherwise stopped, it strikes wrong afterwards, until it has been properly re-set to the hour. Clocks are made of all manner of shapes, patterns, and sizes, for all manner of places, positions, and persons. BRACKET CLOCKS, which are intended to occupy but a small space, say on a staircase, or lobby, or landing, are sometimes made with extreme finish, care, and elegance, sometimes are simply plain and devoid of embellishment. They are constructed with or without striking work. CHIME CLOCKS are a great addition to the attractions of a house. They are usually made to go eight or fifteen days; to strike the hours and quarters on four or eight bells or gongs. MUSICAL CLOCKS are constructed so as to play several tunes at certain intervals with the greatest finish and perfection. The mechanism for time-keeping being easily disconnected from the musical mechanism, the latter may be stopped without any interference with the clock as a time-keeper. CARRIAGE CLOCKS are made so as to be unaffected by the motion of the vehicle. They are usually of a small and squarish shape, enclosed in leather, so as to protect the case from scratches; but they vary in size,--measuring usually from four to seven inches high by two-and-a-half to four inches in breadth and the same in depth. Some are made without striking movement, some to strike hours, half-hours, and quarters, some with repeating work, and some with an alarm added to them. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Carriage Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ LIBRARY and DINING-ROOM CLOCKS are frequently seen decorated with highly elegant ornaments, in bronze, marble, ormolu, and with miniature figures, as well as objects of still life, but these clocks are usually not so conspicuously ornamental as those which are designed for the drawing-room. SKELETON CLOCKS are so named from their movements being all bare and uncovered. When watches were comparative novelties it was not at all an uncommon desire on the part of their possessors to watch the operations of a mechanism which was regarded as wonderfully resembling life itself. Watch cases were consequently made of crystal, and were found strong and serviceable. In skeleton clocks the escapement is sometimes made a peculiarly interesting feature to the non-professional eye delighting in noting the amazing accuracy with which each piece of the mechanism works and combines to produce the result required. REGULATOR CLOCKS are, as we have said, the most perfect time-pieces which can be manufactured. TELL-TALE CLOCKS are of great service in securing the attention and watchfulness of persons left in care of premises or property. They are made with a number of pins projecting round the edge of the dial, and coming into contact once every quarter of an hour with a pin fixed at the top part of the dial, over the part which in an ordinary clock is occupied by XII. The dial revolves completely once every twelve hours, and presents one of the projecting pins to the index every quarter of an hour; the watchman should then be ready at hand to pull a cord, by means of which the projecting pin is pushed in; otherwise the dial shows the exact time of his absence and neglect of duty. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: English Ormolu Clocks.] | | | | [Illustration: English Ormolu Clock, &c.] | | | | [Illustration: English Ormolu Clock, &c.] | | | | [Illustration: Tell-Tale Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ ELECTRICAL CLOCKS have been several times planned and made by different ingenious inventors, and obtained considerable notice, but they have not been hitherto as successful as was expected. Electricity has been applied to the direct movement of the pendulum itself, and subsequently to the raising a small weight to act upon the pendulum in the style of a gravity escapement. In perhaps the latest of these instruments, called a Magnetic Clock, an electromagnet was used to relieve the pendulum from the influence of the spring by which impulsion had been given, and to make the return or reflex vibration. Electric clocks are now seldom made; electric dials without any clock-movement in connection with them are made to show the standard time by means of a galvanic current sent from the Greenwich Observatory clock at intervals of a minute or half-minute it may be,--even as Electric Timeballs show to distant towns and out-ports, by means of such a current, the exact Greenwich time once a day. The ELECTRO-CHRONOGRAPH is a new and useful invention for timing with great precision the quickest of events. It is applied to a central seconds clock with a dial three feet in circumference showing the hours, minutes, seconds and fifths of seconds. This clock erected in a prominent position, say on a raceground, and worked by electricity, enables the starter of a race to set the works in motion; by means of a tape held up at the winning post and connected with the batteries, the winner upon breasting the tape stops the hand of the clock. * * * * * The following simple directions will be found of great use in the management of a Clock:-- When the Clock is unpacked it should be carefully handled with a silk handkerchief or piece of tissue paper, to prevent the moisture of the hands soiling the case. Unscrew the bell and take it off, then put on the pendulum by passing it through the fork, and hang it upon the two small brass pins, _with the hook from you_. Screw on the bell with the convex part outwards, taking care that it does not touch the pendulum. The stand or bracket should be both steady and level before the Clock is placed upon it; for, unless the Clock is quite in proper beat--that is, unless the beats or ticks occur at equal intervals, it cannot go regularly. In order to set the Clock to the hour of the day, the minute-hand should be turned on carefully forward with the finger and thumb, the setter pausing as he reaches the XII. and the VI., to allow the Clock to strike each hour and half-hour. If the striking should at any time be wrong, and it should strike the hour at the half-hour, or the half-hour at the hour, the error can be rectified by moving the minute-hand on to 5 minutes before the hour, or half-hour, and then back until it strikes. Or, if it should strike a wrong hour--_e.g._, supposing the Clock should strike 3, and the hour-hand point at 7, then the hour-hand may be moved back to 3, and the Clock afterwards set to the hour of the day in the usual manner. If, at any future time, the Clock should require regulating, the small steel square above the XII. is the regulator, and turning it a _little_ to the right (half-turn of key) will make the Clock go faster, and to the left, slower. This should be repeated until the desired effect is obtained. The bell-stud, or arm to which the bell is screwed, is purposely made of soft metal, so that it can be bent up or down so as to obtain a heavy or light blow of the hammer as may be desired. Both squares in the dial should be wound once a week. TURRET CLOCKS. A Church tower without a clock and bells seems an unfurnished edifice, which must be fitted and filled before it can serve the purpose for which it was built;--like a form without life, a body without a soul. A good Church clock is useful to everybody; it is the friendly monitor alike of rich and poor,--the regulator of every private time-piece,--the standard of time for a whole parish or township. By it the artisan or mechanic trudges off to his daily labour; by it the tradesman opens and closes his shop; by it the schoolboy is admonished as 'with shining morning face he creeps like snail unwillingly to school;' by it the law itself regulates its penalties,--(enacting, as it does, house-breaking between nine at night and six in the morning to be the heavier crime of burglary;)--by it, in a word, are all the multifarious transactions of everyday life more or less regulated and measured, and when the church clock stops, it produces a social discomfort and anarchy throughout a whole neighbourhood, to an extent scarcely credible. A good public clock is a benefit to all,--a faulty one is a general nuisance and a continual source of irritation. A public clock is in its way as necessary as the public highway, the public market, the public law itself. It is the product and the symbol of advanced civilization, the one everwakeful watchman and trusty friend of all, by whose chimes the sleepless merchant has often planned his ventures or sighed o'er apprehended losses and dangers; the student busied with researches has consumed the midnight oil; the sick have counted their hours of pain, longing in the night for the dawn, in the daytime for the night. On the other hand, when one like Mr Justice Shallow is reminded of the mad days of his London youth, he very aptly associates them with the Bacchanalian memories which Falstaff appeals to,--'We have heard the chimes at midnight.' To have lived 'where bells have knoll'd to church' was according to Shakspeare to have been blessed by humanizing influences comparable with those produced by having-- 'Sat at good men's feasts, and wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity has engendered.' Cowper can find no better words to describe the utter desolation of the island where the shipwrecked Selkirk bemoaned his absolute solitude 'out of humanity's reach,' than by putting into his mouth the language-- 'But the sound of a church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard, Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell, Nor smiled when a Sabbath appear'd.' In our everyday experience we can each testify to the truthfulness of the poet who points to the close association which exists in most minds between the church clock and the varying times and seasons, with their different joys and sorrows, and we can most of us say, with Southey,-- 'I love the bell that calls the poor to pray, Chiming from village church its cheerful sound, When the sun smiles on labour's holy-day And all the rustic train are gather'd round, Each deftly dizen'd in his Sunday's best, And pleased to hail the day of piety and rest. And when, dim shadowing o'er the face of day, The mantling mists of eventide rise slow, As through the forest gloom I wend my way, The minster curfew's sullen voice I know, And pause, and love its solemn toll to hear, As made by distance soft it dies upon the ear.' It is but a short step from the sentimental consideration of such reminiscences to the practical inquiry how is the public time kept, and yet it is one which probably is seldom taken with a view to more or less thorough investigation. Without traversing the distance which divides us from that antique time when Archimedes measured the shadows of the Pyramids by his walking-stick, or when the 'dial of Ahaz' was constructed as one of the first of historical time-measurers, we can discover the principles upon which an instrument such as a thoroughly serviceable public clock of the present time, with all the newest improvements both in time-keeping and in wearing qualities, should be produced. It is of some consequence, in the first place, to know that the introduction of steam-machinery has added to the accuracy of clockwork and at the same time considerably diminished its cost; fifty or sixty years ago there would have been charged as much as £800 for a turret clock inferior to that which may now be procured for £150; and the result is to be seen in the largely increased numbers of public time-pieces. It is obvious, however, that there is none the less need of care in the choice of a Clockmaker, for upon his skill and trustworthiness will depend whether the money be well spent or not, and whether the instrument furnished by him prove to be valuable and serviceable. It is not a purchase wherein the buyer can usually of himself judge of the merits of his bargain, he must rely upon the reputation established by previous works of the same kind. If the Clockmaker be not merely a clock-seller (as is too often the case, for Turret Clockmakers are but few), he will be able to point to similar instruments made and set up by himself in different towns and cities, in proof of his ability, but there will still be a necessity for explaining to the purchaser the chief points upon which the accuracy of such a time-keeper must depend. In the first place, it is necessary to say that Turret Clocks are not merely house clocks upon an enlarged scale, differing from the latter merely in size and weight, but that the extra strength of the machinery requires greater weight of materials 'in a ratio as much higher as the cube is higher than the square of any of its dimensions,' and that increased weight means increase of friction. Besides this point which is peculiarly the province of the Turret Clockmaker, there are important questions to be considered by architects and their employers as to the proper method of constructing a Turret Clock chamber, so as to prevent too much atmospheric variation,--heat and cold, wind and damp, being each likely in some degree, as the seasons change, to affect the public time-keeper,--as witness the clock of St Paul's Cathedral, popularly believed to be an exemplary piece of mechanism, and yet often forced by the wind to vary its time so as to damage its own reputation among those who narrowly watch its behaviour under what may be called trying circumstances. It is not wise to build a tower without careful consideration for the tenant which is to occupy it, or having regard merely to architectural notions of external proportion, for usually it happens that when clock and bells occur as an afterthought, there is often some difficulty and extra expense in planning the room for them. Plenty of length and breadth to allow of the proper fall of the clock-weights and the swing of the pendulum save much in the cost of fixing, and are necessary to secure good time-keeping with the least trouble, for it is obvious that where numerous bevelled wheels with rod-work are employed for the purpose of moving the hands over the dial, if the probabilities of unvarying accuracy are not lessened, the cost must be much increased. Works which have to be placed at some distance from the dials must be more powerful than if they could be put in their proper place, and a little forethought in the architect will save much money both in the original price of the machinery of a clock and in its subsequent repair. Then again, there is always the question for and against the illumination of dials to be considered, and of course with this is unavoidably mixed up not only the arrangements as regards space for the proper working of the time-keeping, striking, and lighting machinery, but the vexed question of ventilation above referred to,--some horologers asserting that chambers as nearly air tight as may be should be devised, and others that there ought to be a draught through the clock-room. There are in fact so many opinions more or less excellent, according to the circumstances of each case, that there is no laying down any arbitrary and unvarying rule, much must be left to the discretion of the Turret Clock manufacturer,--upon whom as has been already stated it is necessary also to rely for the essentials of a good clock, viz., the soundness of the materials, the quality of the workmanship, and the scientific accuracy with which the instrument has been planned and put together. Now before considering the present advanced state of the art of Turret Clockmaking and the various improvements which have to be carefully studied and applied by the makers who would bear the highest reputations as manufacturers, it will be necessary to bear in mind what has been said of the step-by-step progress in horological science of which we have already endeavoured to give the chief particulars. From 1288 A.D., the date of the oldest historical clock--that mentioned as having been set up near Westminster Hall by means of funds derived from a fine levied by the Lord Chief Justice of the period--till now when Big Ben reigns in its stead, is a long interval, with many wonderful incidents, and some great historical names. Henry de Wyck's Paris invention, Galileo's discovery of the pendulum, Huygens's practical application of that discovery, Dr Hooke's 'anchor' escapement, and Graham's dead-beat escapement, Harrison's 'gridiron' pendulum, and the latest applications of electricity and eccentricity, have each and all their peculiar attraction for horological students, but we need not recur to these branches of this highly interesting subject elsewhere treated of. We will proceed to mention a few memoranda about several old public clocks whose ingenious mechanism gained for them a well-deserved fame,--not, perhaps, so much for accuracy in time-keeping as for the grotesque devices with which old clockmakers amused their contemporaries? To them time, as such, was perhaps of not so much consequence as it is to us in these days of telegraph and steam communication. We moderns seem to think it a task sufficiently difficult to set up a sound public time-piece without connecting therewith the wonder-working machinery of a wax-work exhibition. The CLOCK AT WELLS CATHEDRAL, made originally A.D. 1340, by a monk named Peter Lightfoot, is one of the best known of its class still in some sort of working order. The dial of this horologe is divided into 24 hours; it shows the motion of the sun and moon, and bears upon its summit eight armed knights on horseback, tilting with lance in rest at one another, by a double rotatory motion. This clock was removed from Glastonbury to Wells after the dissolution of the Glastonbury Monastery. In 1835 the works were so worn away that they were replaced by a new train, the curious old dial and equestrian knights being still retained. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Wells Cathedral Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ ST DUNSTAN'S CLOCK [see p. 137]. This Clock, when old St Dunstan's Church in Fleet Street was pulled down, was sold by public auction, and bought by the late Marquis of Hertford, for whom Decimus Burton the architect erected St Dunstan's Villa in the Regent's Park. In the grounds of that villa this old clock with its automaton giants striking the hours and quarters was put up, and it is there still, to be seen in full working order, performing the same duties as of yore in Fleet Street. ST JAMES'S PALACE CLOCK [see p. 138] is one of the most ancient public time-pieces now in use, but is intended soon to be removed it is said to South Kensington Museum. It has a locking-plate with ting-tang quarter, the quarter hammers being raised from the pin wheel while the striking hammer is lifted from the pins in the main wheel. It has a crown-wheel escapement with teeth on its edge, and the pallets working upright instead of over the top like a verge escapement. The hands are connected by the bevel wheels below the clock. The whole of the going train with the intermediate and bevel wheels are attached to the one bar so that the whole of the works have to be removed if one piece requires alteration or renewal. The pendulum rod is of iron. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: St Dunstan's Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ ST PAUL'S CATHEDRAL CLOCK [see p. 140] is one of the best examples of old-fashioned clocks in London; it occupies the clock-room in the south-western tower. It may be described as a ting-tang quarter on the rack principle, having hammers raised from pins in the main wheel as in St James's Palace Clock. The train is run in a bar, so that to get away one piece the rest must be disturbed. The escapement is a recoil, beating two seconds with a wood rod pendulum. The length of the minute hand is eight feet, and its weight 75lb; the length of the hour hand is five feet five inches, and its weight 44lb. The diameter of the bell, made from old 'Great Tom of Westminster,' is about 10 feet, its weight 11,474lb; the hammer weighs 145lb, and the clapper 180lb. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: St James's Palace Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The OLD CLOCK AT THE ROYAL FREE HOSPITAL, GRAY'S INN LANE, is a fair specimen of the work of 120 years ago. It has a recoil escapement, most of the wheels are of wrought-iron, cut by hand, as is also the pinion. The pendulum rod is of iron with leaden bob. THE WHEELS. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: St Paul's Cathedral Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ And now, in order to form a judgment of what is necessary to be done to make a really sound and valuable Turret Clock of the present day, let me describe the materials of which it should be formed. One of the most important parts of a clock is the wheel-work. Iron wheels are of course very much cheaper than those which are made of gun metal or hard brass, but iron wheels, however well they may sometimes wear, are more liable to oxidize and to decay, and although it is certain that a large number of clocks are constructed with iron wheels by London houses of some reputation, a few years are generally sufficient to prove such time-pieces to be very faulty, and to necessitate the substitution of wheels of the superior metal. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Old Clock at the Royal Free Hospital.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The best clocks are usually made with wheels of the best gun metal. The teeth are cut by steam power, with an improved cutting engine; and at the same moment that the teeth are cut, they are finished by the engine without the aid of the file, sand-paper, or other polishing materials, so that the most minute difference cannot possibly occur, their accuracy being secured even to the thousandth part of an inch. In the old times this work was done by a man turning a fly-wheel, but that method necessarily occasioned an unevenness of cut which had afterwards to be removed by filing and hand polishing. Wheels thus made could not of course have that precision of movement which is essential in a public clock, and which can only be obtained by a perfect mechanical fit of the teeth of the wheels, such true mechanical fitting being only secured by truly accurate cutting machines. Hand cutting varies with each artisan, and therefore cannot be equally trustworthy. In cheap clocks, constructed to suit public companies who give their contract to the lowest tender, iron is frequently used instead of steel, both in the pinions and arbors, and cast-iron takes the place of gun metal or hard brass in the wheels and bosses,--the result usually being that the Public Clock gets into disrepute through its requiring to be repaired so frequently, and more money is expended upon such repairs than would have sufficed for the purchase of a thoroughly perfect time-keeper. It is urged by the advocates of iron wheels that a clock can be manufactured at a considerably less cost by their employment, but in estimating expense there seems to have been overlooked the important question, as to what will be the probable durability of the machine. I should be sorry to condemn wholesale all clocks, the main wheels of which are made of iron, but very certain it is that a large proportion of clocks constructed of this material and by London houses of great reputation (despite of their possessing an escapement invented by amateurs who consider themselves the depositories of all horological knowledge), have been found most faulty time-keepers, and after a few years have become entirely worn out and useless. It is argued (and rightly so) by the advocates of iron wheels that case-hardened pinions should not be used, in consequence of their wearing with great unevenness, but such persons should be reminded that this objection is much greater in the instance of cast-iron wheels. A case came under my notice some time since of a clock made by a London house, with iron wheels, which after comparatively little time became entirely worn out and had to be removed, a result not at all surprising to those who are aware of the porous nature of iron. The TEETH OF WHEELS have to be made with the greatest skill and care in order that the entire mechanism shall work without friction, and shall not only temporarily keep time with regularity, but shall last for many years without renewal. Teeth should fit into one another without a squeezing pressure (which is equivalent to friction), but with exact uniformity of contact, the action being almost entirely between the teeth separating from each other and not between those which are approaching, i.e. in technical language, the action should be after the line of centres of the wheels and not before it. Church clocks were accustomed formerly to be made to go for thirty-four hours, and to be wound up every day; by the frequency of which winding the clock could be made to keep time with great accuracy, for regulating could be attended to as frequently, and no great variation could well occur in twenty-four hours. But the regulating, as a matter of course, requires a regulator, or standard, of time, which is not always to be found in country places, nor even is the man in charge of clock-winding always in possession of a watch sufficiently accurate to convey the time from the regulator if there were one to the Church clock. Of late, Church clocks are made to go eight days, and so the labour of frequent winding has been saved, while at the same time by extra care in the manufacture and fixing of a clock, there need be no necessity for frequently regulating it. PENDULUMS. Whether the credit of practically applying the mathematical theory and properties of the pendulum was or was not due to Huygens the Dutchman, we have seen that Harris, a London clockmaker, put up the first pendulum clock in St Paul's Church, Covent Garden, in 1621. The great advance upon this discovery was that the pendulum bob must move not in a circle but a cycloid; and that back and front should be alike both in weight and shape to secure regular vibration. Cylindrical bobs are now in general use for large clocks. The old iron rod pendulums were soon discovered to be affected considerably by variations of heat and cold,--the difference between winter and summer being ascertained to amount to the loss of a minute a week. Harrison's gridiron pendulum was one of the chief endeavours to prevent such variation, followed after a long interval by other ingenious inventions, which gained temporary approval and gradually fell into disuse. Room should be provided by the architect of every clock-tower in the chamber below that containing the movement, to allow of the swing of a 15-foot pendulum. FALL OF THE WEIGHTS. We have seen that the position in which a clock is placed in regard to the dial or dials whose hands it is to drive is a matter requiring some attention. Properly the floor of the clock-chamber should be so planned that the clock might stand immediately behind, and level with the dials; for there is extra expense and inconvenience connected with any more distant situation of the works,--the fall of the weights being sometimes difficult in such case to be provided for. The weights should hang, wherever it is possible so to arrange, immediately from the barrel to which they are affixed, without the intervention of pulleys of any kind, and much expense may be saved by providing for the descent of the weights to a considerable depth below the clock-chamber. As an instance however of the extent to which such difficulties can be overcome, I may mention that the hands of my great clock at the International Exhibition were situated nearly 400 feet from the clockworks, while the weights were carried by iron wire ropes over pulleys below the floor to a distance of 200 feet from the movement, then over another pulley fixed at a height of 80 feet from the ground. The ESCAPEMENT is perhaps the most important part of a clock. CROWN-WHEEL ESCAPEMENT. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ This is the earliest known escapement, and is to be found, as we have said, in Henry de Wyck's clock, all the difference between his escapement and the above being that one of the weights in de Wyck's balance is now set in a vertical instead of a horizontal plane. The bent end or fork seen in the illustration connects the pendulum with that arm technically called the crutch. THE ANCHOR ESCAPEMENT. After the crown-wheel escapement, the anchor escapement, invented by Dr Hooke or one of his contemporaries, came into general use, and remains so still; but it is not generally applied to those clocks which are required to go with the nicest accuracy. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Anchor Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ In the next illustration the tooth is seen escaping from the left pallet at the moment of the right pallet's infringing upon the opposite tooth, the pendulum is therefore to be seen still rising a little to the left, and will thus cause the wheel to recoil a little; upon its return the pallet and pendulum are again urged to the right, and so the impulse is continued which is necessary to maintain the motion. THE DEAD-BEAT ESCAPEMENT. invented by Graham is the one in most general use for the best clocks made by London makers of the highest repute. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Dead-beat Escapement] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ FRENCH SINGLE-PIN ESCAPEMENT. This is a simple and ingenious escapement (see next page), which after being used for some time in both France and England went out of use, when, but recently, it was re-invented by a London watch-maker. The teeth are pins of steel set in the face of the wheel, and the upper half of each cylinder cut off as well as a small portion of the under or acting side. This escapement has one great advantage--that if a pin becomes worn or injured it is easily replaced, whereas in a wheel, if one tooth is damaged the wheel itself is worthless. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: French Single-Pin Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ THREE-LEGG'D GRAVITY ESCAPEMENT. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Another.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The above illustration represents a regulator escapement as it would appear in a front view; the pallets are lifted by the three central pins. The locking teeth vary in size from one to nearly two inches. The horizontal pieces projecting from the top of the pallets form the adjustment for the arc of the pendulum. The great advantages possessed by this escapement over all other gravity escapements, &c., are as follows:-- 1. It requires no oil. 2. The angle of the detent planes reduces the friction to almost nil. 3. As the impulse and the unlocking are in one direction, the escapement is unlocked without recoil of impulse arms. 4. No impending force to the pendulum from inertia of impulse arms. 5. The hold in the stops can be increased or diminished to any practical extent by reason of the inverted impulse arms. 6. Less affected by any disturbing forces of the train in proportion to the pressure on the stops. 7. Will bear more weight and give more power to the train without increasing the arc of oscillation. 8. No possibility of tripping under any increase of motive power. 9. The minimum arc of vibration to unlock is 8-tenths of a degree. Other escapements of similar construction require from 4° to 7°. 10. Take less weight for the motive power in proportion to the difference of pressure and draught on the lockings. 11. Unlocks by gravitation instead of by the pendulum and at the time of impulse. 12. Requires no fly nor remontoir, and thus reduces the weight of the motive power by one half. 13. The impulse giving motion to the pendulum increases as the force of gravity on the pendulum decreases. A great advantage over those escapements in which the unlocking is done by the pendulum when its momentum is nearly expended and at the extremity of its arc of vibration. 14. The angle of the detent planes can be set so as not only to offer no resistance to the unlocking, but to give an actual impulse in the same manner as the impulse pallets of a dead escapement. This completely frees the impulse which gives motion to the pendulum from any retarding influence of the train. 15. The arc of vibration is more equal in this than in any other gravity escapement. 16. It is not so liable to stop in consequence of a diminution of arc from the variation of motive force in train. 17. It will answer for regulators as well as for turret clocks, its arc of vibration being from 1° to 3°. DOUBLE THREE-LEGG'D ESCAPEMENT. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Double Three-legg'd Gravity Escapement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ This escapement is chiefly designed for turret clocks with heavy dial-work requiring much power on the scape-wheel. The peculiarity consists of two locking wheels with one set of lifting pins between them. The wheels are set so that the pallets may lie between, and the pallets fall with the pendulum clear of all other contact. The pallet D for instance has its stop in front for the wheel A B C to act upon, and the E stop is acted upon only by _a b c_, the E and A being on different planes. In this escapement, by making the teeth longer and the pallets shorter, the resistance of the pendulum is much reduced, and the stride of the pallets being wider, the actual weight required of them is considerably lessened,--a point of some importance. THE REMONTOIRE. is an invention which, being derived from the French, still bears its French title, and consists of either a train remontoire, or a gravity or remontoire escapement, in which latter the impulse is not given to the pendulum directly by the clock-train or weight, but by some small weight lifted up or a small spring bent up by the clock-train at every beat of the pendulum, so as to secure a uniform and constant impulse, the remontoire weights being lifted either faster or slower according to need. The train remontoire differs from the escapement but slightly, the chief difference being that the small weight or spring which gives the impulse to the pendulum is not wound up at every beat, but at some larger interval, seldom more than half a minute. Its effect is to counteract the various errors to which large clocks driving heavy hands are always liable, and to diminish the friction which arises from the use of heavy weights--these being in very large clocks almost incredibly heavy; for instance, the weights used by me for my clock in the Great International Exhibition of 1862 amounted to more than two tons. Whatever the cause of inequality of movement in the clock, whether it be dust or dirt, or insufficient oil, or whether it be wind delaying or expediting the progress of the hands on the dial, the remontoire regulates and counteracts. THE DIALS. The utility of a Public Clock is considerably enhanced by its being provided with a dial marking the time in the simplest and most unmistakeable lines, so that it may readily be ascertained at any reasonable distance from the clock-tower what is the hour either by day or night. In order that this important requisite may be attained, it is of course necessary that the dial shall be so constructed as to be visible both by night and day, and so arises the necessity for providing illuminating power either from within or from without. Now the simplest method, and perhaps also in the end the least objectionable, is that followed at the Horse Guards, where the dial forms part of the tower itself, and is lighted not from within, but from without. The advantage of this arrangement is, that the architect can make the dial harmonize with the character of the building, that the illuminating power is kept apart from the clock, and if the centre of the dial be slightly sunk the hands may be brought quite close to the face, so as to prevent any seeming error in time, as is sometimes caused by the convexity of a copper dial. The figures too, having been once carefully divided and cut into the stone, are renewed, so to speak, by merely being painted over. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Memorial Turret Clock Dial.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Dials may be made of any material, wood, stone, slate, iron, brass, copper, and coloured or semi-opaque glass. Copper dials possess many advantages, and these have been of late years preferred, except where more ornamental dials are required, in which case slate and skeleton frames are used with good effect. The large dial of my great clock which was placed over the principal entrance of the International Exhibition Building in the Cromwell Road was of slate, elaborately enamelled with white and gold on a blue ground. Another kind of dial having a good effect is that erected by myself some time since for Sir Moses Montefiore, at the Synagogue, Ramsgate, consisting of a skeleton or framework of iron fitted with Minton or encaustic tiles. A dial such as this can thus be made with comparatively little expense during the erection of the tower, and the architect can then, as I have said, design it so as to be in keeping with the edifice; the Minton tiles have also the advantage of being almost indestructible, and of being made of any pattern or colour. The chief points to remember are that the dials should be slightly sunk in the centre so as to allow the hour hand to traverse in the sinking point close to the disc and the figures, and especially that the dial should be made large enough to distinctly show the hour. Properly the dial should never be less in diameter than one-tenth of the number of feet which it is distant from the ground, and in all cases where it is possible I should recommend it to be much larger than this. The dials of St Paul's and Westminster are larger than they would be under the above rule, and they are certainly not too large. As to the colour of the dials, figures, and hands, there is not much choice; dark ground and gilt figures, or white ground with black figures, or a skeleton frame with gilt figures are the chief in use. In the white semi-transparent dials with opaque figures used for illuminated clocks, the time, which is seen with sufficient distinctness by night when the light is behind the figures, is not as clearly indicated by day. To remedy this defect an invention has been applied by which the dial when illuminated at night throws out a beautiful transparent light admirably marking the position of the figures and hands, which being black or dark blue, or even strongly gilt, can also be distinctly seen by day, even as clearly as the long-approved copper dials painted black with gilt figures. THE HANDS should be most carefully made, and like the figures should be painted of a colour which shall most powerfully contrast with that of the dial. The hands are almost invariably made of copper strengthened by diaphragms, and poised from the inside. In some old-fashioned clocks in which the hands have been poised from the outside the effect has been produced of a third hand, and numerous mistakes caused thereby. As to the shape of the hands, there is but one simple rule, namely, that the less of ornamentation in them the better. The minute hand should be perfectly plain, with a tapering but not too fine point, extending to the top of the figures; the hour hand should be of equal breadth and plainness, but its point should be more marked by perhaps an arrowhead or heart-shaped tip only reaching to the bottom of the figures. With large hands counterpoises are found necessary, and these should be placed inside the dial if possible, for they are when outside sometimes mistaken for the point of the hour hand. If a counterpoise must be placed outside, it is better to arrange that it shall be as little as possible, and that the inside counterpoise make up the difference, giving to the latter perhaps two thirds, and one third to the former,--but in any case care has to be taken to prevent the counterpoise appearing like a hand. THE FRAME. The old-fashioned clock-frame, known in the trade as the 'bedstead,' is now generally superseded by the horizontal frame originally introduced by the French, which possesses the special advantage of not only being durable and strong, but that it allows of any part of the clock which may have been injured, or may require cleaning, being easily taken out and replaced without interfering with other portions of the mechanism,--any wheel can be separately handled and removed. In the old upright frame which is even now still in use by some of the more ancient firms of clockmakers, if any part of the clock be injured the entire machine must be taken to pieces. THE FIXING of a Turret Clock requires much careful forethought and experienced labour; because whatever oversight has been made by the architect in planning the clock-room must be made good by the clockmaker who has to fix up a public time-piece. In the first place the latter will take care that the supports of the clock shall be sufficiently strong and free from vibration, and that the movement shall be bolted securely to the iron girders, or strong oak beams provided for the purpose; he will remember that when it is intended that the clock shall strike the hours and quarters, that the bell or bells should be hung as high in the tower as possible, so that when the stroke of the hammer is given by a perfect fall of the weights, the louvres of the tower should be so arranged as to bring out the full sound of the bell, as in the case of the bell at St Paul's cathedral, which, though only weighing 5 tons 4 cwts., is frequently heard on clear nights as far as Windsor. He will in a word require to be acquainted with all the points of importance attached to his rather intricate duty, or he may by failure render nugatory the best workmanship that could be bestowed in clockmaking. The wiser arrangement as to clock-fixing is to intrust the duty to the clockmaker, and he will then necessarily bear the sole responsibility of any mistake. THE WINDING and keeping in order is, as we have said, a less laborious task as respects modern clocks than those which were made fifty years ago, inasmuch as, although it is the duty of a clock-winder to watch daily the action of the time-piece under his charge, he need not perform his winding duties oftener than once a week. He must be on the alert to observe any effect produced by the action of the wind or the fall of snow upon the hands of the clock, which under certain conditions is not uncommon; he must note by some good regulator any tendency to variation in the Church clock, and he must also observe the Equation of Time, which is the difference between true and mean solar time for each day, and which is not quite the same for every year, because it moves on about a quarter of a day in each year until leap year comes and puts it back again. The Equation may be reckoned by an Equation Table, or by the time mentioned in the Almanacs as 'clock before' or 'clock after sun.' It is obviously a very important requisite for good time-keeping that good horological instruments shall be intrusted to skilful and careful hands. In many instances it has happened that escapements made upon the truest scientific principles, and set going in thorough working order, have been so injured by the mechanical genius of the village (some blundering sexton, or some jack-of-all-trades, whose education in mechanism must be exercised at the parish expense), that the new clock with all its merits has been seriously damaged. In such a case the clockmaker had better be at once consulted. A MODERN TURRET CLOCK DESCRIBED. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: A Modern Turret Clock.] | | | | [Illustration: Hour-Wheel and Snail.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The Turret Clock which the highest skill and the best experience of the value of the latest improvements can produce, may be thus described:-- The Bed or Frame is of cast-iron. The Barrel on which the cords are wound possesses a metal cap in front, and a ratchet or toothed wheel at the back end; between this cap and ratchet is a metal drum or tube adapted to the width of the Frame. Passing through the drum is an axle or barrel-arbor, on the back end of which the main or barrel-wheel is fitted so as to allow the line which carries the weight to be wound upon the barrel without moving the wheel, which latter is kept in place by means of a cap or key pinned tight on the arbor. Upon the barrel wheels are fitted clicks and springs, the former falling into the toothed wheel or ratchet, and the latter keeping the clicks in place while the clock is being wound up, for as the weights are wound up the clicks prevent the barrel running back. At each end of the barrel arbor is a pivot in brass bearings fitted in plumber block, and bolted on the bed or frame with bolts and washers. Beyond the pivot on the front of the arbor is a square to receive the winder. The uprights or small frames for carrying the going-train contain the following; first, there is an arbor across the frame at the back of which is a pinion working in the teeth of the barrel-wheel; at the other end of the arbor is the centre-wheel with teeth cut in it, and above this wheel is another pinion running into it with a wheel at the other end, termed the third wheel and pinion. The escape-pinion runs into the third wheel; on this arbor is fitted the escape-wheel, which has very fine teeth cut in it. Above the escape-wheel is an arbor termed the verge arbor, to which are fitted the pallet arms. The pallet bits or pads working in the escape-wheel teeth are of hardened steel polished. At the back end of the verge arbor is fitted the crutch which connects the escapement and the pendulum rod. The escapement is that called the dead-beat or lever escapement, found to be the best for time-keeping, and least likely to get out of order. Upon the set-hand arbor, used for setting the hands on the dial to time, are two springs or keys to keep in place a wheel fitted loosely on the arbor, and working in the teeth of the centre-wheel. The hands are set by means of the set key which fits on the end of the arbor in front. At the back end of the same arbor is a joint by means of which an iron rod connects the clock to the dial, and works the outside hands. The whole of the arbors are turned with suitable pivots into brass bearings screwed into the uprights, and all bolted to the bed or frame by stout bolts and washers. On the front upright is fitted an index or set-dial by which to set the outside hands, and two wheels and pinions, termed the motion or dial-work, fitted on sockets and working on iron studs which are screwed into the upright. Upon the largest wheel, known as the hour-wheel, is fixed a snail having twelve steps in it for regulating the strokes to be given at the different hours. The striking-train consists of a barrel similar to the going-train, only that it has a camm or toothed-wheel fitted on the back of the barrel-wheel for the purpose of raising the hammer which strikes the bell, a lever being used called the hammer-tail. This barrel is fitted into bearings in plummer-block, and bolted on frame. The train of wheels and pinions fitted in arbors, and working in brass bearings, consists of,--the pallet pinion fitted tight in the pallet arbor and working in the teeth of the barrel-wheel; at the front end of this arbor is a pallet of steel working in the teeth of the rack (see next illustration), and gathering it up as the blows of the hammer striking the hours are given on the barrel. Above the pallet arbor is a pinion running into the teeth of the pallet wheel and termed the fly-pinion, as it is used for regulating the blows or strokes. Fans are attached to the fly-pinion to assist in regulating the striking,--the intervals between the strokes being thus made longer or shorter as desired. Fitted to the fly-frame is a ratchet with two clicks and springs, these being used to prevent the train being stopped too suddenly, and the damage likely to arise therefrom. At the right-hand side of the clock frame is an arbor to carry the work for the maintaining power, by means of which work the clock is kept going even while it is being wound up, and injury to the escapement is at the same time prevented. But for this maintaining power during the winding-up, whilst the pendulum is vibrating to and fro, the pallets are liable to catch the teeth of the wheel, and these are so fine as to be readily injured. As properly fixed the clock cannot be wound up unless this maintaining power is put in action by means of a lever passing in front of the barrel-square, so that the winder cannot be put on the square until the lever is raised and puts this power in action. The repeating work for the striking-train is fitted on brass sockets working on wrought-iron studs screwed into the front upright, and consists of the Rack-hook, Warning, Locking, and Lifting pieces. The Rack is a portion of a circle with a number of half-circular teeth cut on its edge; at the end of the Rack is the Rack-arm fitted with a spring having a nib or pin in it, which nib or pin falls upon the steps of the before-mentioned hour-snail, and thus the different strokes are given at the hours; as the nib falls nearer the centre the rack drops a greater number of teeth. The Rack-hook is placed above the rack to catch the rack as it is gathered up by the gathering pallets, and when the proper number of strokes has been given this hook falls into a deep tooth, and then, by means of a locking-piece attached to it, causes the train to be locked with the stop-piece on the fly-pinion arbor, this latter piece forming part of both the locking and warning work. The lifting-piece lifts the rack-hook out of the deep tooth in the rack and locking, by means of a snail or eccentric fitted on the set-hand arbor. On this lifting-piece is also a piece for the warning, fitted on a small stud. The pendulum rod has a brass top, and some adjusting work with a steel suspension spring set in brass, by means of which the clock can be put in beat with great exactness, there being no necessity with this adjustment to bend the crutch as heretofore, for the crutch on the verge arbor has a pin screwed into it which communicates the escapement to the adjusting work or pendulum, and keeps it in motion. At the bottom of the pendulum rod is an iron screw and nut by means of which the pendulum bob is raised or lowered, and the clock made to go faster or slower. The motion or dial work for driving the hands are outside at the back of the dials, and consist of two wheels and pinions working in one another, the larger of the two being fitted to a socket and tube. At the other end of this tube is another socket for the hour hand to be fixed to; and through this tube passes another iron rod, at one end of which rod is fitted one of the pinions and the minute hand, the other wheel and pinion being fitted on a socket worked upon a stud in a cock bolted on a bar called the dial bar. If the clock has to drive more than one pair of dial hands, wheels called bevelled or angle wheels are used, which may be cut to suit any angle, so it will not matter how far off the dials may be fitted, or how many they may be, so long as the proper expansion and universal joints are fitted to them. The Hammer-work consists of an iron frame with an arbor pivoted into brass bearings, and upon this arbor is fitted a lever, one end of the lever holding the hammer-head, and the other end raising the hammer. The lifting of the hammer is done by means of a wire from the hammer-tail previously mentioned. There is also a steel spring attached to the lever to prevent the hammer chattering on the bell. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: The Rack.] | | | | [Illustration: Pendulum Rod.] | | | | [Illustration: Quarter or Chime Clock.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ QUARTER or CHIME CLOCKS differ from the above only in having another barrel and train of wheels to provide the extra power for such striking and chiming. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: GAS WHEEL FOR ILLUMINATED DIALS.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ In instances where it is requisite that the clock face should be visible at a great distance, it is necessary that the dial should be made of semi-transparent glass and be illuminated by gas, which is usually turned as low as possible by day and turned on at night by means of the 24-hour wheel, as shown in the annexed illustration, the time for the turning on being regulated by the man in charge of the clock, who takes out or screws in the pins placed in the rim for that purpose. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: NEST OF BEVELLED WHEELS FOR FOUR DIALS.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ These wheels should be rather large, inasmuch as they have to carry the hands moving upon the face of the dial. The size of these wheels varies of course with the size of the clock, but they are seldom less than five inches and are generally from seven to nine inches wide. HAMMER AND BELL. The next engraving exhibits the relative positions of hammer and bell in a turret clock,--the hammer being fixed at right angles to the swing of the bell, so that the blow of the hammer should not drive the bell out of reach of its next blow, and this position least interfering with the ringing of the bell, when the bell is required to be rung. The hammer spring, as shown, is sometimes so adjusted as to allow of the hammer being brought nearer or further from the bell. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Hammer and Bell.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ THE GREAT CLOCKS OF THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION OF 1862. BENSON'S GREAT CLOCK. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Benson's Great Clock.--The Exterior.] | | | | [Illustration: Benson's Great Clock.--The Movement.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ The movement of this clock, next to that at Westminster, is the largest in the world, and, in point of quality of material and finish of workmanship, it is unequalled by any. The three main wheels are each two feet in diameter, and cast in the solid, of the very finest gun-metal, the teeth being afterwards cut by an engine made expressly for that purpose. The frame is of the best wrought-iron planed to a smooth surface, and by means of a contrivance, known to engineers as plumber blocks, any part of the mechanism may be removed without disturbing the remainder. The pendulum, which is self-compensating, is over 15 feet long, and vibrates or beats once in two seconds. The quarter chimes, which are struck on four bells, are a modification of those of S. Mary, Cambridge. The great weights necessary to drive so large a clock, and which by the friction they would cause might prejudicially influence its performance, are in this case not allowed to act directly upon the pendulum, but are made to wind up a small auxiliary weight once every half-minute, and this weight imparts an exactly uniform impulse to the pendulum at each vibration. This arrangement, which is called the _remontoir_, is supplemented in this clock by a double lever escapement of a novel kind, in connection with that known as Graham's Dead Beat. A CALENDAR AND WIND-DIAL are useful additions to some edifices. The CALENDAR indicates on special circles of a large dial--by means of three separate hands--the month of the year, the day of the month, and the day of the week. The peculiarity of this invention is that it needs no correction for the long and short months, nor even for the month of February, with its occasional 29 days; as by means of a wheel cut for the successive months in a period of four years, and which takes that time for a single revolution, the calendar is rendered a perpetual one. The mechanism which directs the pointers to the days of the week and of the month is discharged, by the clock, each night at 12 o'clock, when the levers shift the hands to their proper places on their several dials. On the first of the month all three hands on the dial are moved at the same instant. The WIND-DIAL is lettered with the four cardinal points of the compass and the 12 intermediates. The hand which points on the dial is connected by rods and bevelled wheels with a vane at the top of the house, placed 20 feet above the roof in order to be affected, not by wind eddies, but by the true current of air. The connecting rods boxed in the wall are broken at every eight feet with universal joints, and hardened steel is used for all pivots and sockets. The dials are generally made of semi-transparent ground glass and are lit by gas after dark. In a set of Clock Calendars which I some time since provided for His Grace the Duke of Portland, the clock showed the time on four illuminated dials five feet nine inches in diameter, chiming quarters, hours, &c. (the well-known Cambridge chimes) on bells of 12 cwt., repeating the hour after the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd quarters. The two sides of an adjoining tower show a calendar similar to the one above mentioned, with the addition of an extra circle on the dial to mark the age of the moon and the equation of time, so that each dial has four circles, besides the circle of the moon, shifted simultaneously at 12 o'clock every night. SUN-DIALS (see illustration on following page) are chiefly used now to mark the solar meridian or noon. Those which indicate other hours have a gnomon with its edge parallel to the earth's axis and inclined to the horizon at the angle corresponding to the latitude of the place in which the dial is fixed. CARILLON CHIMES. +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | [Illustration: Sun-Dial.] | +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ These beautiful examples of _al fresco_ music, which have been hitherto chiefly identified with Belgium, are now being produced in England with perhaps even more pleasing and satisfactory musical effect. Carillons attached to Church or Turret Clocks are being set up in various churches and mansions in different parts of the kingdom, and it is not improbable that the taste for such chimes may grow with the opportunity for hearing them. As in musical clocks, the works for time-keeping and those for chiming are entirely distinct, with the exception of the means by which the clock at certain fixed intervals lets off the chiming machinery after the striking is done. Chimes were much more popular years ago than they have been until lately. The old-fashioned machinery used to be rude enough, consisting chiefly of a large wooden barrel, stuck, like that of a musical box, with pins. These pins pulled the hammers that struck upon the bells, and the time was regulated by a rope coiled round one end of the barrel driving two or three wheels connected with a fly-wheel. More recent inventions have improved upon these conditions. The barrel is sometimes of cast-iron instead of wood, with steel or brass pins fixed in it to lift the hammers, and a very heavy weight is necessary to give the motive power. Instead of the ordinary method of raising the hammers and letting them fall by means of the pins on a chime barrel, the hammers are immediately after use returned to their places in striking position ready to be liberated by the pins on the chime barrel, and upon being so liberated are prepared to strike again. The tunes to be played upon these bells will of course be such as are adapted to the particular number of bells in each case, and the cost of the entire chimes depends upon the number and sizes of the bells so used,--varying with the circumstances,--the size and capacity of the tower, and the difficulties to be overcome in providing accommodation for the necessary bells, weights, chime barrel, &c. In each instance, as with turret clocks, the cost of the whole works depends to a great extent upon the cost of fixing the machinery. The tones of the bells have to be carefully provided for, as also the best position in which they can be heard at a distance. With fourteen bells of different sizes almost any tune can be played. One was erected recently upon the new principle, of which the cost was something under £5000, including 12 bells weighing from five to seven cwt. each, clock, architect's charges, gas-fitting, and £1200 for timber-trussing, floors, &c. The Carillon machine is let off by the clock and plays seven times on the ringing peal of bells, but is adapted to play twenty-eight tunes on fifteen bells. It is wound up every morning and plays eight times in twenty-four hours, _i_. _e_. once every three hours, giving the tune on each occasion three times, and occupying about four minutes in doing so. At the expiration of the 24 hours the tune changes involuntarily, and of course with seven tunes there is one for each day in the week. The Carillon machinery is connected with the clock and set in motion thereby, by a lever which at three hours' intervals dislodges a pin and allows the weights, 14 cwt. each, to act upon the machinery, the speed being easily regulated, as in clockwork, by revolving vanes. The barrels are five feet long, by one foot in diameter, and are studded with brass pins like that of a musical box. When the bells are required to be rung, a bar is turned down on the keys which prevents the motion of the machinery for any length of time that the ringing is to be continued. Notwithstanding that the twenty-six hammers weigh from 2 cwt. to 70lbs each, it is possible that the tunes could be played by means of an ivory keyboard, as in a church organ, and with almost as much ease and facility. Persons requiring to know the cost of a Church or Turret Clock should furnish the Clockmaker with the following data:-- -------------------------------------------------------------- How many Dials? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ Their Diameter? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ Their Elevation, or distance | from the ground? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ If to be Illuminated? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ Of what material is | Dial to be? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ Can the Movement be | placed on a level with the | centre of Dial, if not, how | far above or below it? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ Is the Clock to strike? | if so, on what size or | weight bell? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ If to strike half-hours | or quarters, or how many | bells, and their sizes and | weights? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ What number of feet | can be obtained for descent | of weights? | -------------------------------+------------------------------ What length of Pendulum | will the building | admit of, and is a compensating| Pendulum required? | -------------------------------------------------------------- A FEW DATES AND DETAILS FOR ALMANAC READERS. The following data may be found useful in studying an Almanac. The columns for SUNRISE AND SUNSET are nearly the same year after year for any given place; for by the alteration of styles and the day allowed at Leap Year the civil and astronomical year are almost exactly the same; but the difference in latitude of different places makes a London almanac useless for sunrise and sunset, say at Edinburgh. The sun rises at each place to a greater height in June than in December, but he is always at a less height in Edinburgh than in London both in winter and summer, Edinburgh being farther than London from the equator, where the sun is more immediately overhead. The RISING AND SETTING OF THE MOON vary greatly day by day. The moon is constantly moving eastward, and she is not moving in the same path with the sun; the latitude and longitude of the observer's position, the place of the moon in her orbit, the rapidity of her motion, and other particulars, are to be taken into account in computing her rising and setting. The GOLDEN NUMBER is a term arising from the discovery that the sun performs his annual course 19 times to the moon's 235. The golden number is the number which any given year holds in the Lunar Cycle. After the lapse of 19 years the new moons occur on the same days of the same months as before. This discovery being esteemed by the Romans to be highly important, they set up the rule for ascertaining the number of the year in the Lunar Cycle in a tablet with letters of gold, hence the term Golden Number. To find the year of the Lunar Cycle add one to the present year, then divide by 19 and the remainder will show the year of the Cycle. The EPACT is the number of days which must be added to a lunar year to complete a solar year. Twelve lunar months being nearly 11 days less than the solar year, the new moons in one year falling 11 days earlier than in the year preceding it, it becomes necessary on the fourth year, when the difference would amount to 33 days, to take off 30 days as an intercalary month, during which the moon has made a revolution, and the three remaining would be the epact or 'addition,' which thus continues to vary until the 19 years have expired, and the new moons recur as before. The SOLAR CYCLE is complete in 28 years, after which the days of the month return to the same days of the week as before. The DOMINICAL OR SUNDAY LETTER, as one of the first seven letters of the alphabet, used to denote the days of the week, one of which must of course fall on the Sunday throughout the year. Owing to Leap Year their order every fourth year is disturbed, so that the Solar Cycle must pass round before the letters can fall to the same days of the week. THE NUMBER OF DIRECTION. The Council of Nice having decided, A.D. 325, that Easter Day is always the first Sunday after the full moon which happens upon or next after the 21st of March, it follows that Easter Day cannot take place earlier than the 22nd of March, or later than the 25th of April. The number of Direction is that day of the 35, on which Easter Sunday falls. ROMAN INDICTION was a period of fifteen years, appointed by the Emperor Constantine, A.D. 312, for the payment of certain taxes. It was observed by the Greek and Roman Churches. THE JULIAN PERIOD consists of 7980 years, produced by the multiplication into each other of the Solar and Lunar Cycles and the Roman Indiction, 28×19×15=7980. This period is reckoned from 709 before the Creation of the World, when the three Cycles are supposed to have commenced together; the lapse of the entire period will be A.D. 3267. EQUATION OF TIME is the difference between the time as indicated by a sun-dial, and that by a good clock. It is necessary because the sun, the chief agent in measuring time, does not upon all days of the year appear to move equally fast, inasmuch as an hour by a sun-dial, correctly indicating the sun's motion, is sometimes longer, sometimes shorter, than an hour by the clock, the hours of which are supposed to be perfectly equal, although the sun's are not. The Equation of Time shows how many minutes are to be added to, or subtracted from, sun-dial time in order to show clock time. The same table of equation will serve all over the world. [See following pages for Equation Table.] TRUE OR SOLAR TIME is that marked by the sun, and it is taken at the moment when he has attained his greatest height above the horizon,--such a moment being of course dependent upon the latitude of the place of observation. The solar time by which our nautical standard is fixed, is that of the meridian of Greenwich. SIDEREAL TIME is that measured by the fixed stars, which are at such an immense distance from the earth that the diurnal motion of the earth brings these stars to the meridian at sufficiently regular intervals. It is necessary, however, to remember when making observations for sidereal time that these must be made from fixed or twinkling stars, not from planets. Of the various Eras from which time has been dated, the following are the chief:-- A.M. _Anno Mundi._ The Year of the World, dating from the Creation, according to Jewish Calendar 5635 The Deluge, Era of, variously reckoned 2348 to 3155 B.C. The first Olympiad 776 B.C. A.U.C. or _Anno Urbis Conditæ_, the year of the building of Rome 753 B.C. The Hegira, or Flight of Mahomet from Mecca to Medina 622 A.D. The Birth of Christ in the year of the World 4004 The Jewish year 5635 commenced Sept. 12, 1874 A.D. Table Colunm Headings A. 3m.fa.45s. B. 13m.fa.50s. C. 12m.sl.36s. D. 14m.fa. 1s. E. 3m. sl. 0s. F. 2m. sl.30s. +---------------------------------------------------------------------+ | A TABLE OF THE EQUATION OF TIME, | | For regulating Clocks and Watches for 1875. | +-----+-----------+---------+----------+---------+---------+----------+ | Day | January |February | March | April | May | June | +-----+-----------+---------+----------+---------+---------+----------+ | 1 | A | B | C | D | E | F | | 3 | 4 41 | 14 4 | 12 11 | 3 25 | 3 14 | 2 12 | | 5 | 5 36 | 14 16 | 11 45 | 2 49 | 3 26 | 1 51 | | 7 | 6 29 | 14 24 | 11 16 | 2 14 | 3 35 | 1 30 | | 9 | 7 20 | 14 29 | 10 47 | 1 41 | 3 43 | 1 7 | | 11 | 8 9 | 14 30 | 10 16 | 1 8 | 3 48 | 0 44 | | 13 | 8 55 | 14 29 | 9 43 | 0 36 | 3 51 | 0 19 | | 15 | 9 39 | 14 24 | 9 9 | 0 5 | 3 51 | 0 fa. 6 | | 17 |10 20 | 14 16 | 8 35 | 0 sl.24 | 3 50 | 0 31 | | 19 |10 58 | 14 6 | 7 59 | 0 52 | 3 46 | 0 57 | | 21 |11 33 | 13 53 | 7 23 | 1 18 | 3 40 | 1 23 | | 23 |12 5 | 13 37 | 6 46 | 1 42 | 3 32 | 1 48 | | 25 |12 34 | 13 19 | 6 9 | 2 5 | 3 22 | 2 14 | | 27 |13 0 | 12 58 | 5 32 | 2 25 | 3 10 | 2 39 | | 29 |13 22 | - - - | 4 55 | 2 44 | 2 55 | 3 4 | | 31 |13 41 | - - - | 4 19 | - - - | 2 39 | - - - | +-----+-----------+-----------+-----------+-----------+------------+--+ Table Colunm Headings A. 3m.fa.28s. B. 6m.fa. 5s. C. 0m.sl. 3s. D. 10m.sl.16s. E. 16m.sl.18s. F. 10m.sl.52s. +---------------------------------------------------------------------+ | EQUATION OF TIME, 1875--_continued_. | +-----+-----------+---------+----------+---------+---------+----------+ | Day | July | August |September |October |November |December | +-----+-----------+---------+----------+---------+---------+----------+ | 1 | A | B | C | D. | E | F | | 3 | 3 51 | 5 57 | 0 41 | 10 54 | 16 19 | 10 5 | | 5 | 4 13 | 5 47 | 1 20 | 11 30 | 16 17 | 9 17 | | 7 | 4 33 | 5 34 | 2 0 | 12 5 | 16 12 | 8 26 | | 9 | 4 52 | 5 19 | 2 41 | 12 38 | 16 4 | 7 33 | | 11 | 5 9 | 5 2 | 3 22 | 13 10 | 15 52 | 6 38 | | 13 | 5 24 | 4 42 | 4 4 | 13 40 | 15 37 | 5 42 | | 15 | 5 38 | 4 20 | 4 47 | 14 8 | 15 18 | 4 45 | | 17 | 5 49 | 3 55 | 5 29 | 14 33 | 14 56 | 3 47 | | 19 | 5 59 | 3 29 | 6 12 | 14 56 | 14 31 | 2 47 | | 21 | 6 6 | 3 1 | 6 54 | 15 17 | 14 2 | 1 48 | | 23 | 6 11 | 2 31 | 7 36 | 15 34 | 13 30 | 0 48 | | 25 | 6 13 | 1 59 | 8 17 | 15 49 | 12 55 | 0 fa.12 | | 27 | 6 14 | 1 26 | 8 58 | 16 1 | 12 17 | 1 12 | | 29 | 6 12 | 0 52 | 9 37 | 16 10 | 11 36 | 2 11 | | 31 | 6 8 | 0 16 | - - - | 16 16 | - - - | 3 10 | +-----+-----------+-----------+-----------+-----------+-----------+---+ |_Note_.--Fa. means clock to be fast, _that is_, your Clock, to be | |right, must be so much faster than the Sun-Dial--Sl. that your Clock | |must be so much slower than the Sun-Dial. _To set a Clock or Watch on| |any Day by means of this Table_:--Take out the number of Minutes and | |Seconds which stand against that day, and make your Clock or Watch so| |much faster or slower (according as the table is marked _fa._ or | |_sl._) than the time on a good Sun-Dial. Thus, on January 1st, the | |Clock must be set 3m. 45s. _faster_ or _before_ the Dial; on the 1st | |of October, it must be set 10m. 16s. _slower_. Correct the Watch when| |the Dial marks just an hour, as 9, 10, 11, 1, 2, 3, or 4 o'clock. | |Noon is _not_ best, nor near Sunrise or Sunset. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------+ JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes: Obvious punctuation and spelling errors repaired. Italic text is denoted by _underscore_. The carat character (^) indicates that the following letter is superscripted (example: 53^s). Inconsistent hyphenation has been repaired. The cover for the eBook version of this book was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. In ambiguous cases, the text has been left as it appears in the original book. Corrections: Line 1304: "instance" replaced with "insistence". Line 1332: "inputation" replaced with "imputation". Line 2279: "abanboned" replaced with "abandoned". Line 2656: "Shakspere" replaced with "Shakspeare". 
855	----	CLOCKS By Jerome K. Jerome Transcriber's Note: 1. Italicized phrases are delimited by the underline character. 2. Hyphens have been left in the text only where it was the clear intention of the author. For example, throughout the text, "tonight" and "tomorrow" appear as "to-night" and "to-morrow". This is intentional, and is not simply a legacy of words having been broken across lines in the printed text. 3. The pound (currency) symbol has been replaced by the word "pounds". CLOCKS. There are two kinds of clocks. There is the clock that is always wrong, and that knows it is wrong, and glories in it; and there is the clock that is always right--except when you rely upon it, and then it is more wrong than you would think a clock _could_ be in a civilized country. I remember a clock of this latter type, that we had in the house when I was a boy, routing us all up at three o'clock one winter's morning. We had finished breakfast at ten minutes to four, and I got to school a little after five, and sat down on the step outside and cried, because I thought the world had come to an end; everything was so death-like! The man who can live in the same house with one of these clocks, and not endanger his chance of heaven about once a month by standing up and telling it what he thinks of it, is either a dangerous rival to that old established firm, Job, or else he does not know enough bad language to make it worth his while to start saying anything at all. The great dream of its life is to lure you on into trying to catch a train by it. For weeks and weeks it will keep the most perfect time. If there were any difference in time between that clock and the sun, you would be convinced it was the sun, not the clock, that wanted seeing to. You feel that if that clock happened to get a quarter of a second fast, or the eighth of an instant slow, it would break its heart and die. It is in this spirit of child-like faith in its integrity that, one morning, you gather your family around you in the passage, kiss your children, and afterward wipe your jammy mouth, poke your finger in the baby's eye, promise not to forget to order the coals, wave at last fond adieu with the umbrella, and depart for the railway-station. I never have been quite able to decide, myself, which is the more irritating to run two miles at the top of your speed, and then to find, when you reach the station, that you are three-quarters of an hour too early; or to stroll along leisurely the whole way, and dawdle about outside the booking-office, talking to some local idiot, and then to swagger carelessly on to the platform, just in time to see the train go out! As for the other class of clocks--the common or always-wrong clocks--they are harmless enough. You wind them up at the proper intervals, and once or twice a week you put them right and "regulate" them, as you call it (and you might just as well try to "regulate" a London tom-cat). But you do all this, not from any selfish motives, but from a sense of duty to the clock itself. You want to feel that, whatever may happen, you have done the right thing by it, and that no blame can attach to you. So far as looking to it for any return is concerned, that you never dream of doing, and consequently you are not disappointed. You ask what the time is, and the girl replies: "Well, the clock in the dining-room says a quarter past two." But you are not deceived by this. You know that, as a matter of fact, it must be somewhere between nine and ten in the evening; and, remembering that you noticed, as a curious circumstance, that the clock was only forty minutes past four, hours ago, you mildly admire its energies and resources, and wonder how it does it. I myself possess a clock that for complicated unconventionality and light-hearted independence, could, I should think, give points to anything yet discovered in the chronometrical line. As a mere time-piece, it leaves much to be desired; but, considered as a self-acting conundrum, it is full of interest and variety. I heard of a man once who had a clock that he used to say was of no good to any one except himself, because he was the only man who understood it. He said it was an excellent clock, and one that you could thoroughly depend upon; but you wanted to know it--to have studied its system. An outsider might be easily misled by it. "For instance," he would say, "when it strikes fifteen, and the hands point to twenty minutes past eleven, I know it is a quarter to eight." His acquaintanceship with that clock must certainly have given him an advantage over the cursory observer! But the great charm about my clock is its reliable uncertainty. It works on no method whatever; it is a pure emotionalist. One day it will be quite frolicsome, and gain three hours in the course of the morning, and think nothing of it; and the next day it will wish it were dead, and be hardly able to drag itself along, and lose two hours out of every four, and stop altogether in the afternoon, too miserable to do anything; and then, getting cheerful once more toward evening, will start off again of its own accord. I do not care to talk much about this clock; because when I tell the simple truth concerning it, people think I am exaggerating. It is very discouraging to find, when you are straining every nerve to tell the truth, that people do not believe you, and fancy that you are exaggerating. It makes you feel inclined to go and exaggerate on purpose, just to show them the difference. I know I often feel tempted to do so myself--it is my early training that saves me. We should always be very careful never to give way to exaggeration; it is a habit that grows upon one. And it is such a vulgar habit, too. In the old times, when poets and dry-goods salesmen were the only people who exaggerated, there was something clever and _distingue_ about a reputation for "a tendency to over, rather than to under-estimate the mere bald facts." But everybody exaggerates nowadays. The art of exaggeration is no longer regarded as an "extra" in the modern bill of education; it is an essential requirement, held to be most needful for the battle of life. The whole world exaggerates. It exaggerates everything, from the yearly number of bicycles sold to the yearly number of heathens converted--into the hope of salvation and more whiskey. Exaggeration is the basis of our trade, the fallow-field of our art and literature, the groundwork of our social life, the foundation of our political existence. As schoolboys, we exaggerate our fights and our marks and our fathers' debts. As men, we exaggerate our wares, we exaggerate our feelings, we exaggerate our incomes--except to the tax-collector, and to him we exaggerate our "outgoings"; we exaggerate our virtues; we even exaggerate our vices, and, being in reality the mildest of men, pretend we are dare-devil scamps. We have sunk so low now that we try to _act_ our exaggerations, and to live up to our lies. We call it "keeping up appearances;" and no more bitter phrase could, perhaps, have been invented to describe our childish folly. If we possess a hundred pounds a year, do we not call it two? Our larder may be low and our grates be chill, but we are happy if the "world" (six acquaintances and a prying neighbor) gives us credit for one hundred and fifty. And, when we have five hundred, we talk of a thousand, and the all-important and beloved "world" (sixteen friends now, and two of them carriage-folks!) agree that we really must be spending seven hundred, or at all events, running into debt up to that figure; but the butcher and baker, who have gone into the matter with the housemaid, know better. After awhile, having learned the trick, we launch out boldly and spend like Indian Princes--or rather _seem_ to spend; for we know, by this time, how to purchase the seeming with the seeming, how to buy the appearance of wealth with the appearance of cash. And the dear old world--Beelzebub bless it! for it is his own child, sure enough; there is no mistaking the likeness, it has all his funny little ways--gathers round, applauding and laughing at the lie, and sharing in the cheat, and gloating over the thought of the blow that it knows must sooner or later fall on us from the Thor-like hammer of Truth. And all goes merry as a witches' frolic--until the gray morning dawns. Truth and fact are old-fashioned and out-of-date, my friends, fit only for the dull and vulgar to live by. Appearance, not reality, is what the clever dog grasps at in these clever days. We spurn the dull-brown solid earth; we build our lives and homes in the fair-seeming rainbow-land of shadow and chimera. To ourselves, sleeping and waking there, _behind_ the rainbow, there is no beauty in the house; only a chill damp mist in every room, and, over all, a haunting fear of the hour when the gilded clouds will melt away, and let us fall--somewhat heavily, no doubt--upon the hard world underneath. But, there! of what matter is _our_ misery, _our_ terror? To the stranger, our home appears fair and bright. The workers in the fields below look up and envy us our abode of glory and delight! If _they_ think it pleasant, surely _we_ should be content. Have we not been taught to live for others and not for ourselves, and are we not acting up bravely to the teaching--in this most curious method? Ah! yes, we are self-sacrificing enough, and loyal enough in our devotion to this new-crowned king, the child of Prince Imposture and Princess Pretense. Never before was despot so blindly worshiped! Never had earthly sovereign yet such world-wide sway! Man, if he would live, _must_ worship. He looks around, and what to him, within the vision of his life, is the greatest and the best, that he falls down and does reverence to. To him whose eyes have opened on the nineteenth century, what nobler image can the universe produce than the figure of Falsehood in stolen robes? It is cunning and brazen and hollow-hearted, and it realizes his souls ideal, and he falls and kisses its feet, and clings to its skinny knees, swearing fealty to it for evermore! Ah! he is a mighty monarch, bladder-bodied King Humbug! Come, let us build up temples of hewn shadows wherein we may adore him, safe from the light. Let us raise him aloft upon our Brummagem shields. Long live our coward, falsehearted chief!--fit leader for such soldiers as we! Long live the Lord-of-Lies, anointed! Long live poor King Appearances, to whom all mankind bows the knee! But we must hold him aloft very carefully, oh, my brother warriors! He needs much "keeping up." He has no bones and sinews of his own, the poor old flimsy fellow! If we take our hands from him, he will fall a heap of worn-out rags, and the angry wind will whirl him away, and leave us forlorn. Oh, let us spend our lives keeping him up, and serving him, and making him great--that is, evermore puffed out with air and nothingness--until he burst, and we along with him! Burst one day he must, as it is in the nature of bubbles to burst, especially when they grow big. Meanwhile, he still reigns over us, and the world grows more and more a world of pretense and exaggeration and lies; and he who pretends and exaggerates and lies the most successfully, is the greatest of us all. The world is a gingerbread fair, and we all stand outside our booths and point to the gorgeous-colored pictures, and beat the big drum and brag. Brag! brag! Life is one great game of brag! "Buy my soap, oh ye people, and ye will never look old, and the hair will grow again on your bald places, and ye will never be poor or unhappy again; and mine is the only true soap. Oh, beware of spurious imitations!" "Buy my lotion, all ye that suffer from pains in the head, or the stomach, or the feet, or that have broken arms, or broken hearts, or objectionable mothers-in-law; and drink one bottle a day, and all your troubles will be ended." "Come to my church, all ye that want to go to Heaven, and buy my penny weekly guide, and pay my pew-rates; and, pray ye, have nothing to do with my misguided brother over the road. _This_ is the only safe way!" "Oh, vote for me, my noble and intelligent electors, and send our party into power, and the world shall be a new place, and there shall be no sin or sorrow any more! And each free and independent voter shall have a bran new Utopia made on purpose for him, according to his own ideas, with a good-sized, extra-unpleasant purgatory attached, to which he can send everybody he does not like. Oh! do not miss this chance!" Oh! listen to my philosophy, it is the best and deepest. Oh! hear my songs, they are the sweetest. Oh! buy my pictures, they alone are true art. Oh! read my books, they are the finest. Oh! _I_ am the greatest cheesemonger, _I_ am the greatest soldier, _I_ am the greatest statesman, _I_ am the greatest poet, _I_ am the greatest showman, _I_ am the greatest mountebank, _I_ am the greatest editor, and _I_ am the greatest patriot. _We_ are the greatest nation. _We_ are the only good people. _Ours_ is the only true religion. Bah! how we all yell! How we all brag and bounce, and beat the drum and shout; and nobody believes a word we utter; and the people ask one another, saying: "How can we tell who is the greatest and the cleverest among all these shrieking braggarts?" And they answer: "There is none great or clever. The great and clever men are not here; there is no place for them in this pandemonium of charlatans and quacks. The men you see here are crowing cocks. We suppose the greatest and the best of _them_ are they who crow the loudest and the longest; that is the only test of _their_ merits." Therefore, what is left for us to do, but to crow? And the best and greatest of us all, is he who crows the loudest and the longest on this little dunghill that we call our world! Well, I was going to tell you about our clock. It was my wife's idea, getting it, in the first instance. We had been to dinner at the Buggles', and Buggles had just bought a clock--"picked it up in Essex," was the way he described the transaction. Buggles is always going about "picking up" things. He will stand before an old carved bedstead, weighing about three tons, and say: "Yes--pretty little thing! I picked it up in Holland;" as though he had found it by the roadside, and slipped it into his umbrella when nobody was looking! Buggles was rather full of this clock. It was of the good old-fashioned "grandfather" type. It stood eight feet high, in a carved-oak case, and had a deep, sonorous, solemn tick, that made a pleasant accompaniment to the after-dinner chat, and seemed to fill the room with an air of homely dignity. We discussed the clock, and Buggles said how he loved the sound of its slow, grave tick; and how, when all the house was still, and he and it were sitting up alone together, it seemed like some wise old friend talking to him, and telling him about the old days and the old ways of thought, and the old life and the old people. The clock impressed my wife very much. She was very thoughtful all the way home, and, as we went upstairs to our flat, she said, "Why could not we have a clock like that?" She said it would seem like having some one in the house to take care of us all--she should fancy it was looking after baby! I have a man in Northamptonshire from whom I buy old furniture now and then, and to him I applied. He answered by return to say that he had got exactly the very thing I wanted. (He always has. I am very lucky in this respect.) It was the quaintest and most old-fashioned clock he had come across for a long while, and he enclosed photograph and full particulars; should he send it up? From the photograph and the particulars, it seemed, as he said, the very thing, and I told him, "Yes; send it up at once." Three days afterward, there came a knock at the door--there had been other knocks at the door before this, of course; but I am dealing merely with the history of the clock. The girl said a couple of men were outside, and wanted to see me, and I went to them. I found they were Pickford's carriers, and glancing at the way-bill, I saw that it was my clock that they had brought, and I said, airily, "Oh, yes, it's quite right; bring it up!" They said they were very sorry, but that was just the difficulty. They could not get it up. I went down with them, and wedged securely across the second landing of the staircase, I found a box which I should have judged to be the original case in which Cleopatra's Needle came over. They said that was my clock. I brought down a chopper and a crowbar, and we sent out and collected in two extra hired ruffians and the five of us worked away for half an hour and got the clock out; after which the traffic up and down the staircase was resumed, much to the satisfaction of the other tenants. We then got the clock upstairs and put it together, and I fixed it in the corner of the dining-room. At first it exhibited a strong desire to topple over and fall on people, but by the liberal use of nails and screws and bits of firewood, I made life in the same room with it possible, and then, being exhausted, I had my wounds dressed, and went to bed. In the middle of the night my wife woke me up in a great state of alarm, to say that the clock had just struck thirteen, and who did I think was going to die? I said I did not know, but hoped it might be the next-door dog. My wife said she had a presentiment it meant baby. There was no comforting her; she cried herself to sleep again. During the course of the morning, I succeeded in persuading her that she must have made a mistake, and she consented to smile once more. In the afternoon the clock struck thirteen again. This renewed all her fears. She was convinced now that both baby and I were doomed, and that she would be left a childless widow. I tried to treat the matter as a joke, and this only made her more wretched. She said that she could see I really felt as she did, and was only pretending to be light-hearted for her sake, and she said she would try and bear it bravely. The person she chiefly blamed was Buggles. In the night the clock gave us another warning, and my wife accepted it for her Aunt Maria, and seemed resigned. She wished, however, that I had never had the clock, and wondered when, if ever, I should get cured of my absurd craze for filling the house with tomfoolery. The next day the clock struck thirteen four times and this cheered her up. She said that if we were all going to die, it did not so much matter. Most likely there was a fever or a plague coming, and we should all be taken together. She was quite light-hearted over it! After that the clock went on and killed every friend and relation we had, and then it started on the neighbors. It struck thirteen all day long for months, until we were sick of slaughter, and there could not have been a human being left alive for miles around. Then it turned over a new leaf, and gave up murdering folks, and took to striking mere harmless thirty-nines and forty-ones. Its favorite number now is thirty-two, but once a day it strikes forty-nine. It never strikes more than forty-nine. I don't know why--I have never been able to understand why--but it doesn't. It does not strike at regular intervals, but when it feels it wants to and would be better for it. Sometimes it strikes three or four times within the same hour, and at other times it will go for half-a-day without striking at all. He is an odd old fellow! I have thought now and then of having him "seen to," and made to keep regular hours and be respectable; but, somehow, I seem to have grown to love him as he is with his daring mockery of Time. He certainly has not much respect for it. He seems to go out of his way almost to openly insult it. He calls half-past two thirty-eight o'clock, and in twenty minutes from then he says it is one! Is it that he really has grown to feel contempt for his master, and wishes to show it? They say no man is a hero to his valet; may it be that even stony-face Time himself is but a short-lived, puny mortal--a little greater than some others, that is all--to the dim eyes of this old servant of his? Has he, ticking, ticking, all these years, come at last to see into the littleness of that Time that looms so great to our awed human eyes? Is he saying, as he grimly laughs, and strikes his thirty-fives and forties: "Bah! I know you, Time, godlike and dread though you seem. What are you but a phantom--a dream--like the rest of us here? Ay, less, for you will pass away and be no more. Fear him not, immortal men. Time is but the shadow of the world upon the background of Eternity!" 
38340	----	RULES AND PRACTICE FOR Adjusting Watches BY WALTER J. KLEINLEIN AUTHOR OF "THE WATCH ADJUSTER AND HIS WORK" Copyright, 1920, by Walter J. Kleinlein _All rights reserved_ PREFACE In the early days of horology the apprentice was taught the art of making a complete watch. Production was slow, very few duplicate watches were constructed, and it was necessary that extra material be made individually by hand in the same way that the original part was produced. As time passed the value of the repairer was indicated by his ability to make new parts and to replace them so that the watch would again be in running condition. This was the prevailing situation for many years and the repairer was judged according to his skill in making and finishing the various parts. A similar method of judging ability is still in force among some employers, although the development of the industry into machine and specialized work has made many changes in regard to the most important duties of the repairer. It is no longer necessary for him to know how to make a complete watch and only on occasional instances is it necessary for him to make a part. Genuine material for modern watches is supplied by the manufacturer at less expense than it can be produced by the individual and in this particular branch of the work the repairer's requirements have been very considerably curtailed. A more exacting and a higher standard of timekeeping has developed, however, and in this field the requirements of the watchmaker have increased to the extent that it is no longer sufficient to merely restore a good watch to running condition. It must keep time. This development has grown gradually and surely and the past twenty-five years may be assumed as the period of greatest advance. It has been made possible by scientific and practical refinements which permit the adjustment of watches so that they will keep time within closely defined allowances under varying conditions. The larger problem of the successful repairer of today, therefore, is that of understanding the principles governing close time and of knowing how and where to look for the causes of variation, so that the higher standard of timekeeping may be restored in case of damage since the original adjustment. It is naturally essential to know when material is correct, how to make it fit in its proper place, and how to make and finish some of the individual parts. It is also commendable to be skilful in all classes of lathe work, as this at times gains prestige for the workman through restoring old model watches to running condition. It is, however, a disadvantage to develop one's ability in making parts for watches of a bygone age and neglecting the training that happens to be most essential and of daily advantage in repairing modern watches so that they will keep time as consistently after repairs have been made as they did when new. The object of this book is to present the essential points of watch adjusting in an elementary and non-technical way that will interest the average watchmaker and to enable him to have a convenient source of information, covering the necessary refinements that are fundamental in repairing, regulating and adjusting the better class of watches. The author trusts that the experienced successful watchmaker will read the book with interest and also with profit and that the novice will be enabled to foresee that there is something more to the art of watchmaking and repairing than that of merely assembling a watch and making it "tick." It so happens that the author has had many years of experience in both factories and repair shops and that a considerable part of his duties have been devoted to instruction. He has for a long time felt the need of a book that would, above all else, be practical in its description of the rules that an adjuster follows and which would prove its value in actual experience by being personal as far as permissible in the same sense that detailed shop instruction would be. Since writing the article entitled "The Watch Adjuster and His Work" several years ago numerous inquiries have been received, for this class of information and the present book is an effort to meet this demand in a manner that can be followed without highly technical or theoretical education. To promote advancement and interest in everyday practical results is the foremost consideration, and to this end definite means are presented for personal development and for obtaining better results from high grade watches than can possibly be obtained without a fair knowledge of the final details which go so far toward assuring close time. WALTER J. KLEINLEIN, July 21, 1920 Waltham, Mass. CONTENTS PART I.--THE ADJUSTMENT TO TEMPERATURE CHAPTER I Page The Compensation Balance, Controlling Factor 3 1. General Method of Obtaining Results 2. How to Place Screws When the Rate is Either Slow or Fast in Heat Compared to Cold. 3. Composition of and Distortions of Compensation Balances. 4. Tests and Experiments. 5. Effect of Shifting Screws to Different Locations. 6. Permanency of the Temperature Adjustment. CHAPTER II Equipment for Temperature Adjusting 9 7. Various Methods Available. 8. Electrically Equipped Oven, Description and Dimensions. 9. The Lower Temperature Box. CHAPTER III Difference in Observatory and Commercial Systems 13 10. Observatory System. 11. Commercial System. 12. Rating Card and Method of Calculating Variation 13. Value of the Normal Period Rate. 14. Definition of the Characters Used on Rate Cards for Gain or Loss in Time. 15. Increasing or Decreasing the Extremes of Temperature. CHAPTER IV Some Practical Methods of Correction 19 16. Example of Maintaining a Pleasing Appearance of the Balance. 17. Correction Varies When Screws are Above or Below Normal Size and Weight 18. Over or Under Compensation. 19. Special Corrections for Over or Under Compensation. 20. Example Illustrating that Temperature Variation is Not Always Due to the Balance and Spring. CHAPTER V The Middle Temperature Error 26 21. Why this Error Exists and What it Consists of. 22. How Nickel Steel Balances Overcome this Error. PART II.--THE ADJUSTMENTS TO ISOCHRONISM AND POSITIONS CHAPTER VI General Consideration 31 23. Optional Allowances for Variation. 24. Some Necessary Requirements for Learning Adjusting. 25. Train and Escapement Freedom. CHAPTER VII Theory and Practice 39 26. Theory of Frictional Errors and the Isochronal Hairspring. 27. How Theory Works Out in Practice and what Isochronism Consists of. 28. Common Causes of Extreme Isochronal Variation. CHAPTER VIII Relative Pinning Points of the Hairspring 43 29. Original Springing of Watches. 30. How Pinning Point Alterations are Made. 31. Even Coil Hairsprings Very Incorrect for Some Watches. 32. How to Find the Correct Collet Pinning Point for Any Watch. 33. Results in Vertical Position Rates due to Changing the Pinning Point. 34. The Natural Position Error and Why it Cannot be Eliminated. 35. Principle of Pinning Point Alterations. 36. Same Principles Apply in Case of American Hunting Models. CHAPTER IX Manipulation of the Regulator Pins 51 37. Altering the Length of Spring by Regulator Pins 38. Method of Examining Vibration of Over Coil Between the Pins. 39. Position Corrections Obtained by Spreading or Closing the Regulator Pins. CHAPTER X Factory and Repair Shop Adjusting 53 40. Routine Varies According to Circumstances. 41. Considering the Watchmaker in the Small Shop of One or Two Workmen. 42. Advantages of Understanding Adjusting Even Though Watches are Not Tested in Positions or Isochronism. 43. Concerning Watchmakers of Limited Experience. CHAPTER XI Preliminary Notes and Practice for Beginners 56 44. Practical Suggestions. 45. The First Point of Consideration in Learning to Adjust. 46. Causes of Variation Between Dial Up and Dial Down. 47. Short Motion Generally Indicates Where to Find Trouble. 48. Short Motion Sometimes Caused by Burr on Opposite Pivot. 49. Examining the Hairspring. 50. Exceptions in Regard to Gaining Rate and Short Motion. 51. Detailed Practice. 52. Which Rate to Use as the Unit for Comparison. 53. Damaged Pivots, Pitted End Stones and Methods of Correction. CHAPTER XII Preliminary Notes and Practice on Vertical Corrections 64 54. Five Principal Causes and Corrections for Pendant Up Variation. 55. Poor Motion, Cause and Effect. 56. Regulator Pin Practice for Pendant Up Variation. 57. Pendant Up Corrections Through Poise of Balance 58. Concentricity of the Hairspring. 59. Correcting Pendant Up Variation Through Pinning Point Alterations. 60. Percentage of Watches Requiring Correction of Position Rates CHAPTER XIII Concrete Examples Showing Definite Three Position Alterations and Labor Utilized 70 61. Order of Position Timing and Method of Calculating the Variation. 62. Example No. 1, Three Positions, Columbus. 63. Example No. 2, Three Positions, Ball. 64. Example No. 3, Three Positions, Elgin. 65. Example No. 4, Three Positions, Hampden. CHAPTER XIV Concrete Examples Showing Definite Five Position Alterations and Labor Utilized 77 66. What Five Position Adjusting Consists of--Detailed Allowances. 67. Example No. 5, Five Positions, Hamilton. 68. Example No. 6, Five Positions, Elgin, B. W. R. 69. Example No. 7, Five Positions, Waltham, Vang. 70. Example No. 8, Five Positions, Vacheron and Constantin. 71. Example No. 9, Five Positions, E. Howard 72. Example No. 10, Five Positions, Illinois, B. S. 73. Causes of Extremely Fast Vertical Rates. 74. How to Locate Defective Gearings. CHAPTER XV Timing and Final Regulation 91 75. Mean Time Screws and Timing Washers. 76. Importance of Properly Fitted Regulator. 77. Effect of the Middle Temperature Error. 78. Some Practical Reasons for Slow Rates. PART III.--SPECIAL NOTES CHAPTER XVI Special Notes 99 79. Efficiency of Execution Analyzed (Two Examples) 80. Truing the Balance. 81. Poising the Balance. 82. Truing Hairsprings. 83. Treating a Rusty Hairspring. 84. Stopping by Escapement Locking when Hands are set Backward or When Watch Receives a Jar. 85. Essentials and Non-Essentials in Cleaning Watches. RULES AND PRACTICE FOR ADJUSTING WATCHES PART I THE ADJUSTMENT TO TEMPERATURE CHAPTER I THE COMPENSATION BALANCE CONTROLLING FACTOR 1. _General Method of Obtaining Results._ Only since the introduction of the compensation balance which received its most substantial early experiments as recently as the year 1859, has it been possible to control the variation in pocket timepieces which is caused by changes in temperature. Previous to this introduction it was not uncommon for the best watches to vary as much as two or three minutes with changes of forty or fifty degrees Fahr. Through experiment and improvement in the quality and application of balance materials, such advancement has been made, that this variation has been reduced to seconds and temperature adjusting is now quite universal in the production of medium and high grade watches. In the large factories, girls and young men of very little previous experience are frequently taught to make the alterations and to do the testing, while men of experience in watchmaking handle only the more intricate cases such as "stoppers" and radical rates that may require investigation of the inner workings of the movement. The simplicity of the adjustment naturally becomes more apparent with experience and the general alterations consist merely of transferring the balance screws in opposite pairs, either forward or backward one or more holes, according to the extent of the correction desired. As these alterations are quite positive the adjustment can be undertaken with considerable certainty of obtaining results in every instance. The repairer will not find as much daily necessity for understanding temperature adjusting as he will for being thorough in Position adjusting. The subject is covered, however, for the benefit of those who may desire practical experience in this branch of adjusting and also for those who desire a general knowledge of the details. 2. _How to Place Screws When the Rate is Either Slow or Fast in Heat Compared to Cold._ If a watch rates slow in heat compared to cold it is necessary to shift screws in opposite pairs out toward the cut or free end of the rims; because when the metals expand the hairspring becomes weaker and produces a loss in time. During this period the free ends of the balance rims, carrying the transferred weight are forced toward the center and produce a gaining rate which compensates for the loss caused by the weakened spring. As the metals contract in cold the free ends of the balance are drawn outward from their true form and the concentrated weight of these screws near the ends reduces the fast rate in cold and in principle works both ways in its action on the rate. Should the circumstances be just opposite, or the rate be fast in heat compared to the rate in cold, it will be necessary to move the screws away from the free end of the rims. In doing this, less weight will be carried toward the center as the free ends curl inward and as a result, the rate in heat will become slower and the slow rate in cold will be reduced. 3. _Composition of and Distortions of Compensation Balances._ Compensation balances are generally made of one layer of brass and one of steel, with the brass on the outside consisting of about three-fifths of the total thickness and the steel on the inside consisting of about two-fifths. These metals are firmly soldered together and the distortions in changes of temperature are as follows. In heat both metals expand, which infers that the rims become longer as well as wider and thicker. Brass expands more than steel and because of its attachment to the steel it cannot continue to lengthen in its true circular form, due to the fact that the steel does not become enough longer to maintain the true curve, and the result is that the free ends of the rims are forced inward. In cold the brass, contracting more than the steel, pulls the rim outward at the free end which is just in reverse of the operations in heat. The end of the rim which is attached to the balance arm always moves in the opposite direction from the free end, or outward from the center of balance, when the free end moves in, and inward when the free end moves out. In comparison, however, this movement is negligible as will be noted later in the results obtained in moving screws in that direction. 4. _Tests and Experiments._ It is generally understood that the purpose of the compensation balance is to act in opposition to the error caused principally by the hairspring. The steel hairspring having no compensating qualities, either grows stronger or weaker with changes in temperature. When it becomes longer, wider and thicker in heat, experiments seem to prove that the increased width and thickness are not in proportion to the increased length, for if they were, the spring would actually be stronger; while timing proves that it is weaker because of the loss in time. In cold the shortening factor seems to dominate because of a gain in time. In a series of tests with steel springs on uncut steel brass balances, the temperature error in the extremes of 40 degrees and 90 degrees Fahrenheit was found to be from eighty to one hundred and sixty seconds. With the same balances cut the error was reduced from seventy to one hundred and thirty seconds in each instance, without any correction of the balance screws. A former test with palladium springs on the same balances, previous to having been cut, showed a considerably reduced error, indicating that the steel springs were mainly responsible for the temperature variations. The above tests were in actual practice and results are given as noted, regardless of scientific or established formula relating to the cubic measurement of metals in changes of temperature. 5. _Effect of Shifting Screws to Different Locations._ As a rule compensation balances generally have five or six pairs of balance screws in addition to two pairs of mean time screws. High grade Swiss and some American models do not have mean time screws and are therefore generally supplied with seven or eight pairs of balance screws. The mean time screws are never disturbed in making alterations for temperature, such alterations being confined to the balance screws only and the mean time screws are reserved for timing. For appearance sake the balance screws should be evenly distributed, although it is necessary at times to closely assemble them to obtain temperature results and they should not be disturbed in making ordinary repairs, as the adjustment may be destroyed in so doing. With the larger balances the moving of one pair of screws for a distance of one hole, generally makes a difference of four or five seconds in the temperature rate. In the case of smaller balances this alteration does not make as much difference, although the weight and location of the screws has considerable influence on the result. A pair of screws shifted from the second holes from the cuts, to the holes adjoining the cuts, will generally make a correction four or five times as great as would be obtained by shifting a pair of screws from the third to the fourth holes from the arms. The same proportional difference is obtained in moving a pair of screws from the center of the rims out to the cut, compared to moving a pair of screws from the holes nearest the arms out to the center of the rims. This principle also obtains in moving the screws in the opposite direction and is due to the fact that while the metals composing the balance follow the common laws of expansion and contraction, the balance actually becomes smaller in area during expansion and larger during contraction. This condition is made possible entirely through joining the metals in proper proportion and then cutting the rims. In the factories where large quantities of a particular model having a standard style balance are handled, tests are usually made to determine as to just what degree of correction will be obtained by shifting various pairs of screws certain distances. This information is then used in making alterations with considerable certainty. The expert temperature adjuster becomes fully informed as to the peculiarities of various models and is capable of getting larger percentages of watches within the limits of allowance, after making alterations, than he could obtain otherwise. Through understanding the various models individually, he is also enabled to furnish information that will cause intelligent arrangement of the balance screws, for each model, when they are originally fitted. The production thereby showing a greater yield of good watches that do not require alterations after the first test. 6. _Permanency of the Temperature Adjustment._ When the original temperature adjustment has been carefully executed it is quite permanent and unless the screws have been mutilated or changed in location there will seldom be an occasion for readjusting. The balance may be retrued and repoised many times and the spring may be retrued, altered, or even changed, without seriously interfering with the temperature rating, as long as the screws are not shifted. In changing the spring, however, it is necessary that the same number of coils and the same size of spring be used, as otherwise readjusting would be required. CHAPTER II EQUIPMENT FOR TEMPERATURE ADJUSTING 7. _Various Methods Available._ Two boxes are necessary for temperature testing. One fitted up to maintain a temperature of about 90° Fahr. and the other maintaining a temperature of about 40° Fahr. The method employed in obtaining the high temperature varies in different styles of boxes, while the low temperature is always obtained through the use of ice. When only an occasional test is made, any simple method whereby approximately close results in the two extremes can be obtained, may be used. For instance, the watch may be enclosed in a tin box and placed in sand that is kept at a temperature of 90 or 95 degrees F. A thermometer placed in the sand indicates when the temperature rises too high or falls too low. The ordinary household refrigerator may be used for testing the cold. Tests by this method are advisable only for short periods and for an approximate idea as to the extent of error. If frequent tests are made and accurate results are expected, it is quite important that the special boxes be used. Such boxes are often constructed with a capacity of four or five hundred watches, or they may be constructed to receive only half a dozen watches. Some are made with a zinc or copper tank in which warm water is placed and which surrounds the chamber in which the watches are deposited. The water is kept at the desired temperature by means of a small adjustable flame. In other instances electrical arrangements are used, in which case no water is required. In either instance a thermostat controls the source of heat. 8. _Electrically Equipped Oven, Description and Dimensions._ A very practical arrangement for testing a few watches at a time in the higher temperature is shown in Fig. 1. This is electrically equipped and will maintain an even temperature at all times. The outside of the box is constructed of about one-half inch lumber and the inside is lined with asbestos. It is about fourteen inches high by ten inches wide and eight inches deep. "A". Is an incandescent lamp set in a porcelain base. "B". Is a porcelain plug through which the wires "C" enter the box. "D" and "E". Are metal uprights with a thumbscrew on the top, under each of which a wire terminates. "F". Is the compensating bar, one end of which is fastened solidly to "D" with rivets. The opposite end is free and rests against the end of a thumbscrew which passes through "E." The thumbscrew is to be adjusted so that the free end of "F" will rest against it in a temperature of 70° Fahr. or any lower temperature. As the temperature rises the free end of the bar moves away from the end of thumbscrew, breaking the circuit and extinguishing the light, which cuts off the source of heat. As the temperature decreases the bar again comes into contact and creates the circuit. This bar can be made of various compensating metals, one combination of which is a strip of zinc about six inches long by three eighths of an inch wide and one thirty-second of an inch thick. On the outside of this soft solder a strip of tin six inches or a trifle less in length, by one fourth inch wide and one thirty-second of an inch thick. Both metals should be bent to a curved form before they are soldered together as shown in the cut. [Illustration: Fig. 1] It is generally preferable to have the bar taper to a slightly narrower width at its free end, and near this free end it is necessary to solder a small strip of platinum at the point where the end of thumbscrew comes in contact. "G", "H", "I" and "J" are ventilating holes one inch in diameter and covered by a swinging slide so that the holes can be opened or closed as desired for regulating the ventilation. "K". Is a shelf of brass screen located about five inches from the top and on which the watches and a thermometer are placed in testing. "L". Is a handle for the purpose of convenience in carrying the box. The front is to be enclosed by a door made in two parts, the upper section of which is glass which will admit of observing the thermometer. Proper adjustment of the thumbscrew and bar makes the box ready for use. 9. _The Lower Temperature Box._ Fig. 2 shows a box specially made for testing watches in cold. It is constructed of wood and stands about twenty-four inches high without the legs and about eighteen inches square. A double partition packed with about one inch of sawdust will be most reliable. The upper half of the box should contain a watertight zinc tank for holding cracked ice and about an inch of space should be left above for circulation of the air. The chamber for receiving the watches may be about six inches square and supported by a crosspiece and attachment to the front. It should be covered above to prevent particles of ice from falling on the watches which are to be placed on the floor or on a shelf of the chamber, but the sides may be left partly open to improve the circulation of cold air. The door may also be filled with sawdust but does not require glass as the moisture would prevent observation of the thermometer which should be inside for checking up the temperature when the door is opened. [Illustration: Fig. 2] The bottom of the tank should be slightly higher on one side than on the other, with a one-half inch drain pipe fitted to the low side. The inlet end of the pipe should be covered with a fine screen to prevent dirt from accumulating in the pipe and the outlet may be either at the extreme bottom or on one of the sides as shown in the cut. The upper part or cover of box should be made so that it can be easily removed for filling and cleaning the tank. CHAPTER III DIFFERENCE IN OBSERVATORY AND COMMERCIAL SYSTEMS 10. _Observatory System._ In the foreign observatories where watches are generally tested for competition prize, or certificate purposes, they are subjected to either three or five day tests in each temperature, preceded by one intermediate day at normal temperature which is not considered in making the deductions. The purpose of this is to allow the metals to assume the natural condition before being placed in, or changed from, one degree of temperature to another. After the three or five day test, according to the grade of the watch, the average of the daily rates in each temperature is considered in making the comparison and arriving at the total variation. The total error is then considered in the summary, as a fraction of a second variation per each degree of temperature. As an example we will consider that the total error between the two averages is five seconds and that the difference in the two extremes of temperature was fifty degrees F. The variation would be given as one-tenth of a second per each degree of temperature. 11. _Commercial System._ In manufacturing watches for commercial purposes, both foreign and domestic, the tests are generally made for twenty-four hours in each temperature and the difference in the rates is considered as the total error. Sometimes preliminary tests of four or six hours in each temperature are made to obtain an estimate as to the extent of error, then alterations are made, after which the watch is subjected to the regular twenty-four hour test. There is nothing to be gained by this in regular work, although for a special rush job a day's time may be saved. Watches are always expected to be in first-class condition and such features as close fitting pivots or dirty oil will prevent any dependable timing. It is also advisable to time them closely before the test is made, as too great mean time variation may confuse in estimating the error, especially if the time is not taken in each temperature exactly at the end of twenty-four hours. The testing should preferably be done in the dial up position to eliminate poise errors as much as possible. The first test is made in heat at 90° Fahr., then in normal temperature of sixty-five or seventy degrees and finally in the lower extreme of 40° Fahr. When the watch is removed from the cold box it will be covered with moisture which will immediately begin to condense. The time should therefore be quickly noted and the watch replaced in the higher temperature box for four or five hours to become thoroughly dry and prevent against rusting of the steel parts. 12. _Rating Card and Method of Calculating Variation._ A card ruled similar to the cut shown in Fig. 3, may be used for entering the rates and the watch need only be set at the beginning of each test, as deductions can be made from the entries on the card and the variation accurately ascertained without resetting or disturbing the time. Details as to the methods to be followed would be about as follows: Wind and set the watch to correct time, place it in the heat box and at the end of twenty-four hours enter the variation from correct time in the upper left hand square of the card. Assuming that the time is four seconds fast, enter this as shown in the first column Fig. 3, then wind but do not set the watch and place it in normal temperature and at the end of twenty-four hours enter the total variation noted in the second square of first column. Assuming the time to be just correct, place a zero as shown. Next wind the watch and place it in the cold box, and assuming that the variation is sixteen seconds fast at the end of twenty-four hours, enter this in the lower square of the first column as shown in Fig. 3. The watch is next placed in the heat box to dry and the variation shown in the three sets of figures in first column are carried out as follows. Fig. 3 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. .................... Make................... | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | HEAT | + 4 | + 4 | + 2 | + 2 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | NORMAL | 0 | - 4 | + 6 | + 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | COLD | +16 | +16 | + 8 | + 2 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 12 0 In the upper square we find +4, enter this in upper square of second column at its full value as shown. Next we find a "0" in the second square of first column, and as this is a loss of four seconds from the entry shown in the square above we carry it out in second column as -4. In the lower square of first column we find +16 and as this is a gain of sixteen seconds over the square above, it is necessary to carry this to second column at its full value as per illustration. To determine the extent of variation between heat and cold, simply ignore the normal rate of -4 in the second column and subtract +4, from +16, which indicates an error of twelve seconds slow in heat compared to cold. Or it may be determined as twelve seconds fast in cold compared to heat. For convenience sake it is advisable to form the habit of using one of the temperatures as a unit for comparison and wherever large quantities of watches are adjusted, it is generally the custom to use the higher temperature for this purpose and the rate is stated as either slow or fast in heat. In this instance the rate is slow in heat and it will be necessary to shift one or more pairs of screws toward the cut as explained in Chapter 1, No. 2. 13. _Value of the Normal Period Rate._ The rate in the normal period cannot be considered as of any value, its importance consisting only of allowing the metals to return to the natural form and tension before being placed in the cold box. This is quite important in obtaining a true estimate of the error, because of the fact that in transferring the watch immediately from the extreme of heat to the extreme of cold, there will be a period of time during which the metals are readjusting themselves to the natural form, and the variation in time during this period will not be accounted for, as the real comparative rate will not begin to develop until after the natural form and tension is reached. If the limit of time devoted to testing is no object and if a very fine rate is desired the observatory method is of course to be preferred. However, by allowing an intermediate day at normal temperature we have the assurance that the hairspring is at the same tension and that the balance has the same form concentrically when the test begins in cold that it had when the test began in heat. As the object is to find the variation between the two temperature extremes the estimate will be quite close enough and allows the saving of many days' time. Some authorities advocate in addition to the five days required for observatory testing in each temperature that the watch be subjected to an intermediate day in each, instead of in normal, before considering the daily rate. This seems very logical, as the time noted each day would be taken at the actual extremes in both instances and any outside factor in the timing would be eliminated. 14. _Definition of the Characters Used on Rate Cards for Gain or Loss in Time._ In making entries on the rate cards and in figuring the variations the sign + is used as denoting that the watch is running faster than the standard time and the sign - is used as denoting that it is running slower than standard time. This is stated for the reason that in some instances, generally foreign, the signs are used in reverse, or as indicating that the watch requires a correction of + or - the number of seconds indicated, to attain the correct standard of time. When the signs are identical in a column it is necessary to subtract the lesser from the greater and the result is the variation. There are often instances however, when one rate will be + and the other - as shown in second column of Fig. 4, and in these instances it is necessary to add the figures to obtain the variation. The first column is always the progressive rate and the second column shows the variation carried out. This example shows +8 in heat, the normal rate in the second square is not considered, for the reason previously explained and the rate in cold is shown as -1. The total variation between the extremes is therefore arrived at by adding +8 and -1, which in this instance gives us a total of nine seconds fast in heat. Fig. 4 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. .................... Make................... | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | HEAT | + 8 | + 8 | | | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | NORMAL | +20 | +12 | | | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | COLD | +19 | - 1 | | | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 9 15. _Increasing or Decreasing the Extremes of Temperature._ The extremes of 40° and 90° Fahr. have been used for the reason that they are best suited for general purposes. When it is known, however, that a watch is to be used in a warm climate the extremes may be raised five or ten degrees to advantage. If the watch is to be used in a cold climate, the extremes may be lowered this amount. The metals, however, can only stand the strain of expansion and contraction to a certain degree, and still maintain the positive qualities. Therefore it is quite important that the extremes be not raised or lowered very much beyond these figures. CHAPTER IV SOME PRACTICAL METHODS OF CORRECTION 16. _Example of Maintaining a Pleasing Appearance of the Balance._ In altering the location of screws during the temperature adjustment it is often possible to either mar or improve the appearance of the balance. As a demonstration of this point the correction made in regard to Fig. 3 is analyzed. The balance had twelve screw holes in each rim, with the space between the first and second holes from the arms equal to double the space between any other two holes. There were seven screws in each rim, equally divided as per cut Fig. 5, which indicates screws in the first, second, fourth, sixth, eighth, tenth and twelfth holes. [Illustration: Fig. 5] A correction of the rate could have been obtained by shifting the screws in either the sixth or eighth holes forward three holes. Or those in either the first or second holes could have been shifted to the ninth holes and those in the fourth holes might have been shifted to the ninth holes with good results possible in either instance. Moving one pair of screws under any circumstances however would have caused a massing of three pairs of screws at some point and a vacant space of three holes at another point which would not present a very good appearance for high grade work. Therefore the alteration made was to move the screws from the second to the third holes, fourth to seventh, and from the eighth to the ninth holes as indicated by the positions shown in Fig. 6. [Illustration: Fig. 6] Examination of the fourth column Fig. 3, which gives the result of the second test will show that the desired correction was obtained with a better appearance of the balance than would have been possible if only one pair of screws had been shifted. In following the logic of the alterations made we must consider that the screws moved from the second to third holes made no correction, due to the fact that the balance rims remain almost stationary at this point, the alteration being for appearance only, those moved from the fourth to the seventh holes were estimated for a correction of seven or eight seconds only, for the reason that the alteration did not carry them beyond the center of the rims where the greatest curvature takes place. The screws moved from the eighth to the ninth holes however were estimated for the full correction of four or five seconds which is to be expected through shifting a normal pair of screws from one hole to another beyond the center of the rim on sixteen or eighteen size balances. In moving a pair of screws one hole between the first quarter and the center of the rims, a correction of from two to three seconds can be expected and from the center to the cut the difference for one hole is generally four or five seconds, while an alteration between the arm and the first quarter seldom yields any correction. The matter of appearance should at all times be respected, for it is just as easy to obtain results in most instances and also have a well-appearing balance. There is also less disturbance of the poise usually in moving several pairs of screws a short distance than there is in moving one pair a longer distance. 17. _Correction Varies When Screws are Above or Below Normal Size and Weight._ Normal corrections can only be realized when normal screws are shifted. Some balances have one half, or quarter head screws which of course will not produce a correction as great as will be obtained by shifting regular screws. Sometimes platinum, or other extra heavy screws will be found in balances and these will produce a correction almost double that of ordinary screws of the same size. 18. _Over or Under Compensation._ On some occasions it will be found impossible to maintain a pleasing arrangement of the screws because the temperature variation will make it necessary to mass all of the screws either in the holes nearest the cuts or in those nearest the arms. This is due to either over or under compensation of the balance. Over compensation is caused by too large a proportion of brass in the rims, which causes them to curve inward too far at the free ends in heat and outward too far in cold. When the extent of this error is so great that the rate is still fast in heat, with the screws massed in the holes nearest the arm, a correction can be obtained by fitting heavier screws in the holes adjacent to the arms and lighter screws in the holes nearer the free ends. When the rate in heat is slow with the screws massed at the free ends of rims the balance is under compensated, which is caused by too large a proportion of steel compared to the proportion of brass in the rims. This prevents the free ends of rims from curving inward far enough to carry the weight the proper distance toward the center of balance. A correction for this can be obtained by fitting heavier screws in the holes adjacent to the cuts and lighter screws in the holes toward the center of rims. In changing the weight of screws as stated above it should be remembered that the gross weight of all screws must remain the same or the timing will be seriously affected. It is also important that the poise be tested whenever a considerable degree of alteration is made, as this will assist in obtaining an accurate rate. 19. _Special Corrections for Over or Under Compensation._ Balances having the extreme degree of over or under compensation will seldom be found in high grade watches. In any instance, however, it is possible to obtain a better distribution of the screws by fitting either a larger or a smaller hairspring. For instance, we will assume a case of under compensation in which the screws have all been massed at the holes nearest the cuts. If the spring has seventeen coils, a correction of from five to ten seconds can be obtained by selecting and fitting a spring of the same make that will have eighteen coils, and the correction obtained will permit of shifting one or two pairs of screws back toward the arms. In case of over compensation a spring of the same make, one coil smaller, will permit of shifting one or two pairs of screws toward the free ends of rims. In a series of tests it was demonstrated that by duplicating or changing springs of the same make and size, on balances that had previously been compensated, there was very slight difference in the temperature variation of the watch. Also by changing pinning points or breaking out one-fourth to one-half of the coil around collet and adding weight to the balances to correct the mean time the difference in the variation was almost negligible. On the other hand it was found that by replacing the springs with others of larger or smaller size, variations of from three to ten seconds were noted in all instances. In selecting and fitting a spring that will be one coil larger or smaller, it should be noted that the inner coil of the original spring and that of the new spring are approximately the same distance from the collet. For if there was considerable space between the collet and inner coil of the original spring, and the new spring was colleted quite close, there might be the addition of an extra coil in the inside only. This was found to produce only a very slight correction, compared to that obtained by the addition of a complete outer coil. These tests indicate that the proportion of strength of the spring in the temperatures varies with any appreciable change in length while slight changes make practically no difference. 20. _Example Demonstrating that Temperature Variation is not Always Due to the Balance and Spring._ Fig. 7 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. .................... Make................... | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | HEAT | -10 | -10 | + 4 | + 4 | + 1 | + 1 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | NORMAL | - 6 | + 4 | + 5 | + 1 | + 4 | + 3 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | COLD | +12 | +18 | + 1 | - 4 | + 7 | + 3 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 28 8 2 The following example is submitted to show that temperature variation is not always due to the balance and spring, and that the general condition of the watch may be responsible. The second column of Fig. 7, indicates an error of twenty-eight seconds slow in heat with all screws assembled in the holes nearest the free ends of the rims. Examination proved that the motion of the balance in cold was reduced to about one-fourth of a turn. In heat the arc of motion was at least one full turn. This difference in motion was sufficient to prove that there was some binding in the train. A very close fitting of the escape pivots was found and this undoubtedly caused binding of the pivots in heat due to slight expansion. Expansion of the stone would also tend to close the hole, and while the degree of temperature would hardly have any bearing on this point it is sufficient to show in what direction the tendency would be. The fourth wheel end shake was very close and probably caused binding of the wheel in cold, due to greater contraction of the bridge than of the fourth pinion. Furthermore the mainspring was only 0.02 of a millimeter narrower than the space in the barrel box. This no doubt also caused binding through greater contraction of the barrel than occurred in the mainspring. The above defects were remedied and the rate was found to be eight seconds plus in heat as per third and fourth columns Fig. 7. This made it necessary to shift several of the screws away from the cut, in almost the same position in which they were before the alteration which caused the close assembling of the screws was made. The final rate was two seconds slow in heat as shown in fifth and sixth columns. The variation of thirty-six seconds between the second and fourth columns was entirely erroneous, and was due to condition of the watch irrespective of the balance and hairspring. Should the variation with the screws assembled have been by chance within the limits of allowance the watch would undoubtedly have been a very unreliable timepiece. The errors in the watch would no doubt have been corrected during the position adjustment later, but the large error in temperature which would have been introduced by wrongly moving the screws, would have prevented reliable timing until possibly at some future period a test in temperature would have been made and the screws replaced in the proper positions. CHAPTER V THE MIDDLE TEMPERATURE ERROR 21. _Why This Error Exists and What it Consists Of._ In adjusting watches to temperature it is not always possible nor expected to obtain a perfect rate between the two extremes, manufacturers generally allowing from two to ten seconds variation according to the grade. Even when the rate obtained is perfect it will only be so at the two extremes and there will always be a few seconds variation in the middle or normal temperature. This variation will always be a gain of from two to four seconds in the higher grades of steel brass balances and usually more in cheaper balances. As there is no possible correction for this irregularity in ordinary balances it has long been known as the middle temperature error and for many years was one of the most perplexing problems that the manufacturer of specially fine timepieces had to deal with. Various devices were originated from time to time for the purpose of counteracting the error but they were always too infinitely complicated to be of commercial or scientific value, and none of them were ever adopted as a solution of the problem. In chapter I, No. 3, will be found a description of the distortions of compensation balances in the extremes of temperature and the cause of the middle error is due entirely to the fact that these distortions are not exactly equal in both directions. The free ends of the rims are drawn outward from the concentric form to a slightly greater proportional degree as the temperature decreases from normal and they are not forced inward at an even proportional degree with increase of temperature. 22. _How Nickel Steel Balances Overcome the Middle Temperature Error._ Through extensive experiment in the foreign laboratories balances containing nickel steel have been found to almost eliminate the middle error, which is reduced to one second or less, making it possible to obtain perfect adjustment in various temperatures. All highest prize watches passing through the Geneva Observatory are equipped with these balances and they have been adopted for commercial use to a large extent by the manufacturers of the finer grades of watches. From the same source success has recently been attained in applying this metal to hairsprings and using them in connection with uncut balances, but owing to the necessary high cost of production, their general use may be delayed for some years to come. Their general use however would revolutionize the present-day methods of adjusting to temperature as there would be practically no expansion or contraction to deal with. Nickel steel balances will always be found to have the cuts about one eighth of the circle distant from the arms instead of close to the arms. This is made necessary by the fact that the coefficient of nickel steel is about ten times less than that of ordinary steel, and if the cuts were made close to the arms the brass in expansion would force the free end of the rims to curve inward to such an extent that it would cause an abnormally fast rate in heat. By making the cuts more central the length of the segments are reduced, thereby causing less curvature of the extreme ends and more nearly equalizing the extent of curvature both ways from the concentric form. This equalization is what causes the reduction in the middle error and its absence in ordinary balances is what causes the larger error. Non-magnetic or palladium balances are also credited with a smaller middle temperature error than the ordinary steel brass balance, but owing to the unstable nature of the metal they have not proved to be as reliable in other respects and are not used to any large extent. The middle temperature error is of course a small factor in the larger sense of obtaining time from commercial watches but its influence is apparent in timing and it will therefore be considered further in the section devoted to Final Regulation, Chapter XV, No. 77. PART II THE ADJUSTMENT TO ISOCHRONISM AND POSITIONS CHAPTER VI GENERAL CONSIDERATION 23. _Optional Allowances for Variation._ The phrase "Adjusted to Isochronism and Positions" does not always indicate the same high quality or the expense assumed in obtaining close rating in different kinds of watches. One particular model may be stamped "Adjusted to Five Positions" and this may indicate that the manufacturer of this model has tested all watches of this grade for twenty-four hours in each of five positions and that the extreme extent of variation from one position to any other, among any of these watches, did not exceed six seconds. Another model may be stamped in exactly the same way and it may indicate that all watches of that particular grade have been tested in exactly the same way and that the extreme extent of variation from one position to any other, did not exceed twenty-five seconds. The statement regarding the number of positions to which the watch has been adjusted is just as legitimate in the latter instance as it is in the former, for the watches are really tested in five positions and required to perform within specified allowances. The important difference is in the established limits of requirement, one demanding an extreme of only six seconds variation and the other allowing twenty-five seconds. Both watches may have the same number of jewels and there is no way to discern the actual variation except through a test in positions. Technically it would be just as legitimate to stamp and advertise watches as above and have an allowance of fifty or more seconds, providing that they were actually tested and not allowed to pass with a variation greater than this limit. Close limits of allowance require adjusters of greater skill and material of a finer degree of accuracy, however, than do greater allowances, but the dealer and consumer are generally not informed in regard to this particular point. Some watchmakers also do not understand this feature clearly and the limits of variation to which watches have been adjusted are seldom considered. Should the difference in allowances and identical advertising be interpreted as an injustice to the manufacturer who maintains close limits for his various grades of watches, it must be remembered that they speak for themselves after passing over the counter and into the hands of satisfied customers. His reputation after a period of years will be more firmly established than will that of his less particular competitor in the high grade field. A similar situation prevails in the repair shop, and the fact that many of the leading dealers and railroad watch inspectors require at least a three position adjustment in the repairing of high grade watches, is convincing evidence that position rating demonstrates its importance in actual service when applied to repair work, as surely as it does when applied to new watches. In placing limits of allowance for variation in various grades it is not intended that all watches of a particular grade will have the extreme variation. It is possible that an individual watch in the twenty-five seconds allowance class may have an even better rate than another watch that is in the six seconds class. It is also possible for a watch in either class to have a perfect rate, although these would be rather exceptional instances. 24. _Some Necessary Requirements for Learning Adjusting._ The adjustments to isochronism and positions are not permanent to the same extent that the temperature adjustment is, and they can be damaged or destroyed entirely by the average workman in making ordinary repairs unless he is familiar with the common principles governing their production and maintenance. Experienced workmen who are familiar with these principles avoid unconsciously doing any damage and make practical repairs in a manner that will maintain or improve the original adjustment and time-keeping qualities of the watch. To know and to make use of these principles does not make a "putterer" of the workman, in fact the consequence is just the reverse, because the training acquired tends to eliminate guess work and enables him to determine more readily as to just what the trouble may be, how to correct it, and as to just what degree of perfection is required in a particular instance. Certain practical requirements are necessary in reaching this standard of workmanship and it would not be profitable to attempt to do adjusting unless one has first had a reasonable degree of training as a watchmaker or repairer, especially in such branches of the work as truing and poising balances; truing, leveling and centering hairsprings; matching the escapement; finishing pivots, and properly cleaning and assembling watches. These mechanical requirements and experiences alone are not sufficient, however, and a certain amount of study must be consolidated with them in order to become proficient. This study should not deal so much with the problems of manufacture of the watch, or its various parts, as it does with the problems pertaining to the finished results that are to be obtained through refinement and intelligent assembly of these parts. The workman's willingness to indulge in such study is a very large asset among the requirements, and it only remains for him to obtain the proper class of instruction and then to conscientiously follow correct methods in his practice and to make personal experiments, conforming to the instruction, so that his confidence will become more enduring. It is further required that he be capable of realizing the difference between genuine and imitation materials, especially such essentials as balance staffs, hole jewels, mainsprings and roller jewels, which are the most frequently changed and most frequently substituted parts of watches. Imitation materials may be less expensive as a matter of first cost but staffs may have pivots and shoulders out of line, or out of true; hole jewels may be rough, out of round or extremely thick; mainsprings soft, or of improper proportion, and roller jewels may have sharp edges which cause rubbing in the fork and "hanging up" when the second hand is reversed. It is most satisfactory to depend upon the materials supplied by the manufacturer of the watch, as imitation goods are seldom any better. 25. _Train and Escapement Freedom._ Beyond a general insight of high class watch-work this book is not intended to meet the requirements of beginners. It is designed principally for watchmakers of some experience, and cannot presume to cover details that would be essential for those in early apprenticeship. It is thought essential, however, to consider some matters in a general way and among these are the subjects of side shakes and end shakes, and the escapement, as far as they pertain to general inspection of the watch without consideration of details that refer to correction of irregularities which are presumed to have been acquired in earlier training. Thoroughness of mechanical ability always demands a system of inspection and of making corrections and it is quite necessary to follow some method that will reveal any point or points that may not be up to standard. As a rule it is best to begin at either end of the watch, and if it is to be taken down the best place to begin is usually with the balance and examine each part as it is removed until the barrel has been reached. If it is not to be taken down, just as good results will be obtained by beginning the examination at the barrel and finishing with the balance. Sometimes watchmakers of considerable ability will demand as a basic consideration that pivots be fitted with very little side shake and that end shakes also be quite close if close time is to be expected. These presumed to be, wide side shakes and long end shakes, very often have nothing whatever to do with the absence of a close position rate and frequently are absolutely necessary for good performance of the watch and proper space for oil. The importance of reasonable limits is of course granted, but it is very detrimental to have pivots too close fitting and more stoppage and irregular time keeping can be traced to lack of freedom than can be traced to excessive shakes. If the repairer is not familiar with accepted standards of side and end shakes, he can improve his judgment by examining watches of the higher grades and comparing the results with those found in cheaper makes of watches. Such examination will invariably disclose the fact that fine watches receive very careful consideration in this respect. The center, third and fourth wheels generally having from 0.03 mm. to 0.05 mm. freedom for end shake and 0.015 mm. to 0.02 mm. for side shake. The escape wheel, pallet and balance will be found to run quite uniform at from 0.02 mm. to 0.03 mm. freedom for end shake and from 0.0075 mm. to 0.0125 mm. for side shake. The smaller and thinner watches generally favoring the lesser figures and the larger and thicker watches favoring the higher. This uniformity of freedom will be found absent in cheaper watches; for instance, a center wheel may have 0.02 mm. end shake and 0.01 mm. side shake which would be very close fitting for large pivots. The fourth wheel may have as much as 0.08 mm. end shake and 0.03 mm. side shake which would be too great. The pallet may have 0.05 mm. end shake and the balance 0.01 mm. and in this instance the short end shake of the balance would be more detrimental in most instances than would the longer end shake of the pallet. The variation will even be found to exceed these figures and when they are found in connection with thick, straight hole jewels they often interfere with a close position rate and with regularity of time in service. The interference in timekeeping is considerably aggravated in cases where one pivot has excessive side shake and the opposite pivot is close fitting, as this tends to cause almost certain binding of the close fitting pivot as soon as the power of the mainspring is applied. The end shake and side shake allowance for the barrel depends considerably upon its style of construction. Safety barrels constructed so that the arbor revolves with the main wheel, when the watch is running, may have about the same end shake and side shake as applied to the center, third and fourth wheels, and if the pivots of the arbor are quite large they may have a trifle more side shake. As a rule larger pivots will stand more side shake than smaller pivots; this, however, does not apply in the case of large bearings, such as safety main wheels that revolve around a stationary arbor, or going barrels where the entire barrel revolves around the stationary arbor when the watch is running. In such instances the main wheel or barrel should have from 0.03 mm. to 0.05 mm. end shake on the arbor and should be just free for side shake. The arbor which turns only when the watch is wound requires merely freedom for end shake between the plates, as well as for side shake where the pivots pass through the plates. With reference to the escapement, good watchmakers often have different methods of examining the various points and of making corrections and it is not of so much importance as to just how correct conditions are obtained, as it is that they actually be obtained. Whatever the method may be it is certain that each escape wheel tooth must have positive locking on each pallet stone and that there must be positive space for drop between the back of each stone and the pointed end of each escape wheel tooth. There must also be sufficient draw when each tooth and stone are locked to hold the fork against the bankings. When the lock, drop and draw are correct it is next necessary to see that the fork length and guard pin freedom are correct. There is only one positive method of determining as to when the fork length is correct, and this is through closing the bankings to drop. This can be done either before or after placing the balance in the watch and merely requires turning the banking screws so that the excentric pins will close in on the fork until the fork arrives at the pins, at the same instant that the tooth drops on the pallet stone. This eliminates any slide of the stone on the tooth beyond the actual locking and in this condition it is required that the roller jewel pass through the fork slot and out of the fork horn entirely on both sides with perfect freedom. Should it touch on both sides of the fork, then the fork is either too long or the roller jewel is too far forward, and if it touches on one side only it may require simply equalization of the freedom. The guard pin length also must be obtained with the bankings closed to drop and should be just free from the safety roller on both sides. When the inspection proves that these conditions have been properly provided for, it is necessary to slightly open the bankings so that there will be just a trifle of slide of each stone, on each tooth, after the locking takes place. Extremely wide side shakes of the escape, pallet or balance pivots will sometimes cause striking of the roller jewel when conditions are otherwise correct, and these side shakes should not be very much beyond the extreme limits mentioned in this number. The fact of this feature, however, should not be construed as a recommendation that these pivots be closely fitted, for reasonable freedom is to be desired because it is positively necessary. CHAPTER VII THEORY AND PRACTICE 26. _Theory of Frictional Errors and the Isochronal Hairspring._ Theory teaches us in brief, that the position adjustment is made necessary principally because of frictional errors. It would therefore seem that if the watch was mechanically correct there would be little or no requirement for position alterations. We are also advised that an isochronal hairspring is one which will cause the long and short arcs of the balance to be made in equal time and that to attain this, the center of gravity of the spring must coincide with the center of gravity of the balance and that a certain pinning point is necessary in producing this result. Now if we have a watch of correct mechanical construction and fitted with an isochronal spring it would seem that a close rating timepiece would be assured. 27. _How Theory Works Out in Practice and What Isochronism Consists of._ Practical adjusting, however, proves that such is not the case, for even when the construction and alterations produce watches as nearly correct as scientific methods can determine, there is often considerable variation in the position rates. A twenty-four hour test in any position may prove that the long and short arcs are made in equal time showing the spring to be isochronous and yet the position variations have not been accounted for. In this connection experience proves that a spring showing a perfect isochronal rate may have its collet pinning point changed, in relation to the pinning point at the stud and that through such an alteration, a correction in positions can be obtained, without in the least disturbing the perfect isochronal rate. This indicates that the separation of the two adjustments which is possible in theory, does not hold good in practice, because a spring showing a perfect isochronal rate has been altered for the purpose of counteracting some position error and thereby producing a practical center of gravity of the balance and spring combined, instead of separately. This may be further explained as creating an error in a spring which is supposed to be theoretically isochronous, with the idea of making it act in opposition to the position error and the combination thus obtained produces practical isochronism as well as a corrected position rate. It is not suggested that these relative pinning points be altered for the purpose of overcoming position variation such as may be caused by dirt and gummy oil, damaged pivots, or balances that are out of poise. The watch should be in first-class condition and have a good motion in every position and then the alterations may be safely undertaken in accordance with the principles. Adjusted to isochronism indicates that the watch functions uniformly during the entire twenty-four hours running. It is immaterial as to whether the rate be perfect or whether it be a gain or a loss, so long as it is uniform. The watch is not isochronous if there is both a gain and a loss in the rate, even though the time be perfect at the expiration of twenty-four hours. Experiment will demonstrate that watches carefully adjusted to positions will also have a very close isochronal rate. These isochronal experiments can be made by timing watches for twenty-four hours in any one of the vertical positions and noting the variation in periods of from four to twelve hours and by comparing the variation in the first period, during which time the arc of motion is long, with the variation in the latter period when the mainspring power is weaker and the arc of motion is short. 28. _Common Causes of Extreme Isochronal Variation._ The most common causes of isochronal variation with which the repairer has to deal and which are often very destructive to position rates, as well as to general time keeping, may be found in the factor of, out of poise and uneven motive force, which is one of the elementary principles of adjusting. This feature should be thoroughly understood by all watchmakers, so that as good results as possible may be obtained from all watches above low grade, even though no test for adjustment is to be made. When the balance is slightly out of poise and the motion is exactly one and one-fourth turn during the twenty-four hours, this out of poise will not affect the isochronism. When the motion varies and reaches approximately one and one-half turn during the first few hours after winding and then drops to one and one-quarter turn and finally to one turn or less during the latter part of the twenty-four hours, the poise error will have considerable effect. This factor is not perceptible in the flat positions, but shows up to the full extent in the vertical positions and the variation differs according to the location of the point that is heavy. For example, if the balance is heavy on the lower side when at rest, the watch will lose during the hours that the arc of motion is over one and one-fourth turn and will gain when the motion drops to one turn or less. Should the heavy point be on the top side of balance the result will be reversed and the watch will gain when the motion is over one and one-fourth turn and will lose when it drops to one turn or less. The total variation may be either seconds or minutes, depending upon the extent of the poise error and experiments will prove that serious isochronal variations can be traced to the simple cause of lack of poise and irregular motion in more instances than to any other cause. The arc of one and one-fourth turn is the ideal motion, as slight poise errors are neutralized at this point, but very few watches will maintain this motion for twenty-four hours, therefore the poise must be as nearly perfect as possible. The nearest approach to even motion of modern watches is found in the fine Swiss grades equipped with stop work, which causes only the best part of the mainspring to be utilized. Such watches also receive the most expert attention as to gearings of wheels and pinions and the train wheels are specially rounded up on their respective staffs. This latter feature has been adopted by at least two of the American manufacturers of fine watches during the past few years with considerable benefit in producing even motion and the use of lighter mainsprings. It should be definitely understood that these tests refer to the vertical positions of the watch only and that the horizontal positions are not affected in the same way by lack of poise. CHAPTER VIII RELATIVE PINNING POINTS OF THE HAIRSPRING 29. _Original Springing of Watches._ Theory and practice agree that different models of watches have important relative points of attachment of the spring to collet and stud. In the original springing and adjusting of high grade watches, these points receive careful consideration, and only a very small percentage ever require future alterations. There are instances, however, where the original allowance of position variation has been considerable, also medium grades where no attention has been directed to pinning points and in which an occasional alteration may be required before a close position rate can be obtained. 30. _How Pinning Point Alterations are Made._ These alterations are generally made by breaking off or letting out a small section of the inner coil at the collet. In making such alterations a quarter of a coil broken away at the collet will have the same effect as will a quarter of a coil broken off at the outer end and will require less weighting of the balance to correct the mean time. It will also avoid breaking and remaking the over coil and the possible necessity of readjustment to temperature. Letting out the spring can be accomplished by unpinning and repinning the spring at collet with less of the coil entered in the pinhole. This is not a positive alteration, however, because very often the segment in the pinhole is as short as it can be with safety. A more substantial correction is that of reforming the over coil in a manner that will cause the end holding the stud to be shifted further forward. The method of obtaining this correction is illustrated in Fig. 8. The broken line shows the original formation of the over coil with the stud on the line "B". The solid lines show the corrections with the stud shifted to the line A. [Illustration: Fig. 8] When the collet is turned to replace the spring in beat, the stud will be in its original location on the line "B." This will cause the pinning point at collet to be shifted from "A" to "B" and bring it that much nearer to the horizontal line "C." This alteration has the same effect as that of letting out the spring at the collet or of moving the stud forward on the over coil, with the advantage of eliminating any change in the mean time. It should be definitely understood that the objective in making the above alterations and as illustrated with the aid of the following cuts, is the relation of the pinning point at collet to the pinning point at stud, and that the change in length of the spring has no bearing on the matter whatever as far as the position rate is concerned. 31. _Even Coil Hairsprings Very Incorrect for Some Models._ It is often supposed that hairsprings having exactly even coils are correct for close position and isochronal rating. Such springs do approximate the nearest correct relation in more instances than any other relation. They are precisely correct for very few models, however, and are very incorrect for many models, as will be seen through study of the following cuts showing the various points of attachment and the different results obtainable in each. 32. _How to Find the Correct Collet Pinning Point for Any Watch._ A very simple method of locating the proper point of attachment of the spring to collet is to face the train side of the movement and hold the balance stationary with a small twig, and with the pallet fork just midway between the two bankings. [Illustration: Fig. 9] Presume the existence of a vertical line through the center of hairspring and collet as shown at "A B" Fig. 9. Then presume a horizontal line as shown at "C D" on the same cut. [Illustration: Fig. 10] The proper pinning point is at the intersection of the collet and horizontal line; the spring may be either over or under even coils, depending entirely upon the location of the stud hole in the balance bridge as demonstrated by Figures 9, 10, 14, 15. When the spring develops to the right from collet as shown in Fig. 9, for example, the proper point of attachment is on the right side of collet as shown at "E" Fig. 9, and also at "J" Fig. 14. If it develops to the left as the springs of all fine Swiss watches do, the proper point of attachment is on the left side of collet as shown at "F" Fig. 10. 33. _Results in Vertical Position Rates Due to Changing the Pinning Point._ In either of the above instances the spring will develop upward as it leaves the collet. These points of attachment always produce a fast pendant up rate when compared to the opposite, or pendant down rate, and all high grade watches are originally fitted with springs conforming to this principle. If these points of attachment were changed to the opposite side of collet so that the spring would develop downward as shown at "G" Fig. 11, and "H" Fig. 12, the results would be reversed and the pendant up rate would be slow in comparison to the pendant down rate. [Illustration: Fig. 11] This point of attachment in which the spring develops downward from the collet is generally known as the slow point among adjusters, and when a spring is pinned at either the slow or fast point the pendant right and left positions generally compare quite closely to each other in timing, provided that the poise and other conditions of the watch are correct. If the pinning point was changed to the intersection of the collet and vertical line as shown in "I" Fig. 13, the pendant up and down rates would compare nearly equal to each other and the pendant right position would be slow compared to the pendant left position. [Illustration: Fig. 12] If it were pinned at the intersection of the collet and vertical line just opposite to that shown in Fig. 13, the pendant left position would be slow compared to the pendant right position. [Illustration: Fig. 13] The vertical points of attachment are seldom used, for the reason that the variation between the pendant right and left positions would be very difficult to control within close limits, due to the existence of the natural error. As these positions, together with the pendant up position are the most important of the four vertical positions, they are given preference, and the natural error is placed in the pendant down position where it will be the least detrimental to the performance of the watch. 34. _The Natural Position Error and Why it Cannot be Eliminated._ [Illustration: Fig. 14] The natural error generally consists of from twelve to fifteen seconds in finely constructed watches, and exists because of the fact that it is impossible to perfectly poise a spiral spring. The location of the heavy point, however, may be shifted by changing the point of attachment at collet as described in No. 33, this Chapter. The nearest approximation of a poised spiral spring is probably attained through L. Lossier's inner terminal curve. Results are not positive, however, and any deviation from the required precision makes the curve valueless. It is possible to obtain perfect adjustment between three vertical quarter positions and the two horizontal positions, but all four quarter positions cannot be perfectly adjusted because the natural error will show up in one of them. Manufacturers of fine watches do not of course presume to supply perfect adjustment in the five positions. Some however, have considerably closer limits of allowance for variation than do others and it is logical to presume that a line of high grade watches having a five position allowance of six seconds from one position to any other would show better results than another line which had even a six position adjustment and an allowance of fifteen seconds from one position to any other. 35. _Principle of Pinning Point Alterations._ [Illustration: Fig. 15] When an alteration of any pinning point is necessary, the extent and direction of the alteration are determined by the rate of the watch. For instance, if a spring is pinned at the fast point and if a slightly slower pendant up rate is desired, the spring can be broken off at the collet and pinned one-eighth above the horizontal line. If the rate is to be made slightly faster, the spring can be let out a trifle at the collet, the over coil reformed or the stud moved forward on the over coil so that the collet point of attachment will come slightly below the horizontal line when the spring is placed in beat. The former alteration causes an approach toward the slow point and in making the latter alteration we assume that the fast point is a trifle below the horizontal line on that particular watch. When altering springs from the extreme fast point to the extreme slow point, it is advisable to remove a trifle less of the inner coil than the extreme calculation. This will cause the point of attachment to be slightly above the horizontal line on the slow side and will most always produce the result desired and if it does not, there is still a possibility of further alteration. The same principle applies in making an alteration from the extreme slow to the extreme fast point and in this case the point of attachment to collet may be just a trifle below the horizontal line. The theory of this is that all shortening of the coil from the fast to the slow point produces a slower rate pendant up, until the extreme slow point is reached. After passing this extreme slow point the pendant up rate begins to grow faster until the extreme fast point is reached. [A]The designations "right" and "left" in regard to pinning points are used with the explicit understanding that the individual is facing the train side of the movement. The same designations used as referring to position rates, or results to be expected in positions should be interpreted to mean with the individual facing the dial side of the watch. 36. _Same Principles Apply in Case of American Hunting Models._ The points shown in Figures 14 and 15 refer generally to American hunting models. In all other high grade watches the location of the balance and spring will be found either to the right or left of the center of the watch. In American hunting models the balance and spring are located in the lower center of the watch. This is due to the fact that American manufacturers do not construct separate models for hunting watches as is done by foreign manufacturers. Instead of producing an entirely separate model, the method simply calls for a change in the construction of the barrel bridge by reversing the position of the barrel and winding wheels. This places the winding sleeve at figure three on the dial, which is customary on hunting watches and causes the entire movement to be shifted by ninety degrees with the balance just about opposite the pendant. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote A: Important Note.] CHAPTER IX MANIPULATION OF THE REGULATOR PINS 37. _Altering the Length of Spring by Regulator Pins._ On some occasions when the pinning points seem to be comparatively close and the watch is in good condition with the balance in poise, it is possible to obtain corrections by closing or opening the regulator pins. This, however, can only be resorted to, to a limited extent, as otherwise the value of the regulator may be impaired. The pins should not be closed tight enough to cause "kinking" of the over coil and they should not be spread apart any more than enough to make the mean rate about 2 seconds per hour slower. Some models of watches consistently require that the pins be closed, while other models require that they be slightly spread, and it is therefore advisable not to disturb the pins when cleaning watches unless they have been bent by incompetent hands. It is better to reserve the majority of pin alterations for such time as the position rate determines the necessity of an alteration. When the pins are open, however, it is necessary to adjust the coil so that its vibration will be equal. Correct execution in spreading or closing the pins will very often make it possible to obtain a correction of six or eight seconds between the vertical and horizontal positions. 38. _Method of Examining Vibration of Over Coil Between the Pins._ The proper method of examining this vibration is to stop the balance and observe the movement of the coil between the pins. The vibration should be equal at the slightest oscillation of the balance as well as during the longer arcs. The coil should not rest against one or the other of the pins at any time unless they are both closed. Emphasis is placed upon equal vibration of the coil when the pins are open because of its importance, and if results are not obtained (as expected) the examination should be repeated to see if correct conditions have been attained. Examination of this vibration should be made from both sides of the pins and usually the best estimate can be obtained by looking between the pins from the stud side. 39. _Position Corrections Obtained by Spreading or Closing the Regulator Pins._ When the regulator pins are tightly closed and the watch has a fast pendant up position rate, it will be possible to obtain a slower rate by slightly spreading the pins. When the pins are spread and vibration of the coil between them can be discerned, and the pendant up rate is slow, a faster rate can be obtained by closing them. In spreading the pins they should be drawn away from the coil equally, as otherwise the coil will strike one pin with more force than the other, which will not produce results as expected and will cause uncertain regulation. In closing the pins they should be drawn together one at a time until both are in equal contact. They should not be merely squeezed together, as this causes distortion of the coil at the point of contact. CHAPTER X FACTORY AND REPAIR SHOP ADJUSTING 40. _Routine Varies According to Circumstances._ The principles covering the adjustment of watches are the same in the repair shop as they are in the factory and they are equally the same in the various lines of high grade watches regardless as to whether they are of American or foreign extraction. The routine covering the work to be done, however, may vary, depending upon the quantity of watches that are turned out. In the factories where large numbers of watches are adjusted the adjuster is trained in the various branches of watch work and eventually devotes his entire time to adjusting. The watches are generally turned over to him after they are all assembled and ready for the final balance and spring work, or after they have been finished and rated, in which instance he receives only those that are not within the requirements and he then makes the necessary alterations, after which they are again tested for results. In some repair shops where large numbers of fine watches are handled, a similar system is used and one competent adjuster devotes his time principally to the work of timing and adjusting. 41. _Considering the Watchmaker in the Small Shop of One or Two Workmen._ By far the greater number of watchmakers are employed in stores having only one or two workmen who are required to do the cleaning and to make all repairs. For this reason an adjuster of equal skill could not do as much actual adjusting as could be done in either of the two previous instances, but for the same reason he would not be expected to do as much. He can, however, adjust the high grade watches that he repairs just as closely, and he should not permit himself to feel that time and the nature of his position prohibits him from doing so. Whether it does, or does not prevent him from obtaining close rates depends entirely upon his training and understanding of the necessary details. If he is skilful and accurate, his output of work in the long run will not be reduced, his work will give better satisfaction and he will have less "comebacks" to take up his valuable time. 42. _Advantage of Understanding Adjusting Even Though Watches are Not Tested in Positions or Isochronism._ To understand position adjusting thoroughly is of the greatest advantage in obtaining satisfactory time from any medium or high grade watches even though they are not to be tested in positions because vital points will receive intelligent observation where they would otherwise be overlooked. 43. _Concerning Watchmakers of Limited Experience._ The previous notes and rules covering pinning points of the hairspring as detailed by the cuts and descriptions, together with the concrete adjusting examples to follow would no doubt be of sufficient note for watchmakers of considerable experience. There are, however, many ambitious workmen who have not devoted any time whatever to the study or practice of adjusting and to whom some elementary study and practice may be quite indispensable. To be of service to this class of workmen chapters XI and XII are devoted to preliminary notes and practice lessons. The contents of these chapters can be worked out in practice by almost any workman who is capable of holding a position as watchmaker and it is substantially necessary that they be mastered before finished results are to be expected. CHAPTER XI PRELIMINARY NOTES AND PRACTICE FOR BEGINNERS 44. _Practical Suggestions._ Experience will eventually prove that most of the variations in positions are caused by apparently insignificant details. The mistake made by the average repairer is generally that of failing to detect these details and to make slight corrections where necessary, as he proceeds with the ordinary cleaning and repairing of the watch. This oversight often prevents what would otherwise be excellent results in timekeeping and makes it necessary to utilize extra time and labor in the effort to obtain more consistent timekeeping. 45. _The First Point of Consideration in Learning to Adjust._ The first consideration in position adjusting should be directed toward equalizing the time in the two horizontal positions. This equalization should be accomplished entirely by attention to details that can be plainly seen before arriving at the point of actual timing of the watch. The principal requirement for equal time between dial up and dial down is equal arc of motion of the balance in each of the two positions, and the adjuster should become capable of obtaining this equal arc of motion before attempting to obtain close rating in the other positions. 46. _Causes of Variation Between Dial Up and Dial Down._ Variations between dial up and dial down may be due to one or more of the following causes which have been arranged in two groups, the first group consisting of the most frequent and common causes, while the second group consists of causes equally detrimental but less common. Group No. 1 1. Dirt or thick oil in one or both balance jewels. 2. Burred or marred balance pivots. 3. End of one balance pivot flat or rough and opposite pivot polished. 4. Ends of both balance pivots polished but not same form. 5. Balance pivot bent. 6. Hairspring rubbing balance arm or stud. 7. Hairspring concave or convex in form instead of perfectly level. 8. Over coil rubbing under balance cock. 9. Over coil rubbing center wheel. (Some watches). Group No. 2 10. Balance pivots fitted too close in jewels. 11. One pivot having excessive side shake and the opposite close fitting. 12. Escape or pallet pivots bent or damaged. 13. Balance end stone pitted or badly out of flat. 14. Over coil rubbing outside coil, at point where it curves over spring. 15. Balance arm or screw touching pallet bridge. 16. Balance screw out too far, touching bridge or train wheel. 17. Safety roller rubbing dial plate or jewel setting. 18. Fork rubbing impulse roller. 19. Guard pin rubbing edge of safety roller. 20. Roller jewel long and rubs guard pin. 47. _Short Motion Generally Indicates Where to Find Trouble._ Any of the above irregularities will cause a variation in motion between dial up and dial down and invariably the trouble will be found on the side which has the shorter motion. For instance, a pivot that is flat or rough on the end will cause a shorter motion, when it is down, than will the opposite pivot when it is down, provided that its end is slightly rounded and highly polished. The same is true when the oil is gummy or dirty in one jewel and the opposite jewel is clean and freshly oiled. Capped escape or pallet pivots when flat or rough on one end have the same effect to a lesser degree. It is never proper to make the end of a pivot flat or rough and thereby shorten and equalize the motion. Neither should the ends of both balance pivots be flattened at any time. On the contrary, the ends of pivots should always be slightly rounded and highly polished: there is no logical reason for having them otherwise. 48. _Short Motion Sometimes Caused by Burr on Opposite Pivot._ There are occasionally instances where a poor motion on one pivot is caused by a slight burr on the opposite pivot. This is usually due to the fact that while the burred pivot is running on its own end stone, there is space enough between the end stone and jewel to give the burr clearance, but when the position of the watch is reversed, the balance end shake allowance causes the burr to rub on the top of jewel hole and prevents perfect freedom of motion when the good pivot is downward. 49. _Examining the Hairspring._ The hairspring may be true and level but it should be carefully examined to see that there is no possibility of touching at any point. The observation should take place during the full arc of motion of the balance, for there are some instances in which no rubbing takes place until the motion accelerates. The watch should be held at different angles and the space between the balance arm and spring, and the stud and spring, closely scrutinized for possible contact. The space between the spring and over coil at the point where the over coil rises and curves over the spring should be at least equal to the width of the coils and care should be taken to see that the over coil just before the point of rising has the usual space between it and the next coil. Either position in which the hairspring may rub will have a shorter motion and a gain in time compared to the opposite position in which there is no interference. 50. _Exceptions in Regard to Gaining Rate and Short Motion._ Invariably the arc of motion which is the shortest will gain time compared to the opposite position which has a longer motion. There are, however, some few instances in which there are exceptions to this rule, and knowledge of these exceptions is quite valuable in preventing confusion and doubtfulness in the certainty of making specific alterations. As an example in the horizontal positions; if both end stones are perfect and the freedom of one pivot in the jewel is correct while the opposite pivot has entirely too much freedom, the motion may be somewhat shorter with the proper fitting pivot downward while the rate may be slower compared to the opposite position. This is caused by the balance describing a larger circle when the large hole jewel is upward, as the pivot is allowed to travel a greater distance from the center of the hole as it wavers from side to side during the oscillations. When the watch is reversed the weight of the balance prevents the pivot from wobbling in the large hole and eliminates the possibility of compensating for the larger circle described by the balance in the opposite position. The same results are possible when the freedom of both pivots is correct and when one end stone is pitted, as the pit in the stone causes a short motion when downward and prevents the pivot from having any side play whatever, while the opposite pivot enjoys full play to whatever freedom there may be and through this causing a somewhat larger circle to be described by the balance and a slower rate in time. It should be understood that this does not refer to instances where the end stone surface is merely slightly worn, but to pittings in which the surface of the stone has been actually pierced. In most instances of slight wear the motion will be shorter and the rate fast which conforms to the general rule covering rate and motion. 51. _Detailed Practice._ For preliminary practice in position adjusting, select a watch of about 17 jewels which has just been cleaned and put in order to the best of one's ability. Regulate it so that it will time within ten seconds in twenty-four hours. Then run it dial up for twenty-four hours and make a notation as to the number of seconds either fast or slow. Next run it dial down for twenty-four hours and make note of the number of seconds fast or slow in this position. If there is a variation in time between the two positions it will be found that the position having the faster rate of the two will also have a shorter arc of motion.[B] The exact arc of motion in each position can be known by observing the arms of the balance and comparing the extent of the arc with some point on the pallet bridge. A variation of one-eighth of an inch in motion will generally make a difference of four or five seconds in the rate and greater variations will make corresponding increases in the difference. When a watch is in good order a correct motion for the horizontal positions is generally considered to be that of one and one-half turn, which consists of three-quarters of a revolution of the balance in each direction. Should the motion be very much below this, in both positions, there may be something wrong with the general condition of the watch or possibly there may be a weak mainspring at fault, or an imitation spring that is too long and thick may take up too much room in the barrel and cause poor motion as surely as will one that is two weak. Assuming, however, that the motion is good in one position and drops off in the other, it is quite probable that only an ordinary position correction will be required and the immediate problem to be considered is that of causing the short arc of motion to accelerate enough to equal the longer arc. The precise correction required will most probably be found among the causes listed in No. 46, this Chapter. 52. _Which Rate to Use as the Unit for Comparison._ The horizontal position which has the slower rate of the two should be considered as the unit which is correct and it will always have the longer motion of the two, barring the occasional exception as described in No. 50. This longer arc of motion is universally due to a better condition, while the shorter motion indicates that something is wrong, and it should always be the aim of the adjuster to improve some condition that is below standard, rather than to make some good condition a little worse in order to equalize the rates. It may be possible to equalize horizontal rates by flattening the ends of pivots, but it does not require much more time to improve the motion in one position than it does to make it a little worse in another. The advantage is all one way and results either good or bad depend entirely upon the viewpoint of the worker and how he applies himself to the situation. 53. _Damaged Pivots, Pitted End Stones and Methods of Correction._ In the examination of pivots, end stones and jewels, it is necessary to use a stronger glass than the one used for ordinary work. Damaged pivots can often be detected by looking through the end stone with a strong glass while the balance is moving. If imperfect they will appear dark or display a slight waver or flash and if they are in good condition they will appear bright and seem to stand still. They can also be examined in the lathe and a good true enclosed balance chuck is of immense value in detecting burrs, chipped edges, rings on the sides, slight bends and poorly shaped ends. The complete balance and spring can be inserted and the pivots can be refinished without disturbing the roller or hairspring. The chuck should be revolving very slowly when making the examination and moving the belt with the hand will enable one to see more than can be seen when the lathe is running at regular speed. Some watchmakers use small bow lathes for examining and finishing pivots, or the Jacot lathe, which is excellent for this kind of work. An end stone that has been deeply pitted should always be discarded and a new one supplied. If the hole is very slight, however, it can be removed entirely and the surface of the stone re-polished on a lap charged with No. 5 diamond powder, but the stone and setting should be thoroughly cleansed by brushing and pithing before replacement. Should a slight particle of diamond or any other hard stone powder possibly remain on the stone or in the bezel it might eventually enter the end of pivot and again cause pitting. In case that the end stone is of the type that is flat and highly polished on both sides, such as is usually found on detachable dome foreign watches, it can be punched out with a piece of brass wire or peg wood and replaced in reverse position, after which the bezel can be closed and the stone will be just as serviceable as a new one. Pivots that have been running on pitted end stones are generally rough on the end which is charged with some hard substance. They require special treatment to remove the cause of the pitting and the following method of refinishing is very good. Place the balance in the lathe and draw a soft Arkansas oil stone over the end of pivot with pressure enough to remove a bit of the metal. This will drag out any hard particles that may be lodged in the end and after this has been done the pivot should be pithed clean and polished with a smooth hard steel burnisher covered with oil. A hard stone such as sapphire or jasper, or a steel burnisher should not be used on the pivot until the Arkansas stone has first done its work, because a hard instrument of this description will force the small particles that cause the pitting further into the end of the pivot instead of removing them entirely. A pivot that has been treated in this way will not pit the end stone a second time unless carelessness in the use of hard powder permits additional particles to come in contact with the pivot or end stone. There are some instances in which the steel is highly carbonized but manufacturers generally use the best steel obtainable for balance staffs and excessive carbon can generally be detected with a magnifying glass. Free use of diamond powder and emery wheel dust are more often responsible. The holes of jewels should never be enlarged or polished with diamond powder after the jewels have once been placed in their permanent settings, as this allows the powder to lodge between the jewel and the setting where it cannot be removed by cleaning but where it will be drawn out by the oil and charge any pivot that may be run in the jewel. The grey powder in such instances may be seen through the top of jewel with a strong glass. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote B: Note Exceptions in No. 50.] CHAPTER XII PRELIMINARY NOTES AND PRACTICE ON VERTICAL CORRECTIONS 54. _Five Principal Causes and Corrections for Pendant Up Variation._ The first of the vertical positions to be considered is that of Pendant Up and to understand the causes of and corrections for variations in this position completes what is known as three position adjusting. The usual causes of variation in the pendant up position as compared to the horizontal positions are as follows. Poor Motion Pendant Up. Regulator Pins not properly adjusted. Balance not in poise. Hairspring not in circle. Hairspring not pinned at proper point. 55. _Poor Motion, Cause and Effect._ Among these causes that of Poor Motion covers a number of troubles such as roller jewel rubbing in fork, guard pin rubbing roller, strong lock on the escapement, or no lock on some teeth. Such causes may not prevent close rating between the horizontal positions because of non-interference until the position of the watch is changed. The pendant up motion should therefore be the first vertical point of investigation and if at fault the cause should be eliminated. In this connection it should not be expected that the arc of motion in the pendant up or any other vertical position will be as long as it will be in the horizontal positions, for when a watch is in excellent condition in every particular the vertical arcs are always approximately one-fourth of a turn shorter than the horizontal. This is due to frictions and is impossible of correction and therefore should not be confused with a poor motion of greater extent which has removable causes that are practical of execution. A good motion is to be considered as one of the results to be expected in overhauling and putting a watch in good order and it should not be understood that it is particularly to be associated with adjusting only, nor should any watch be slighted in cleaning and assembling with the idea that adjusting will correct it in a few minutes' time. On the other hand it should be understood as fundamental that no watch can be a close time keeper unless it has a good motion and no good adjuster will attempt to obtain close time in one position or a close rate in different positions until the motion is first what it should be. If it is what it should be, about ninety per cent of the necessary work required for obtaining close position rates will have been completed. 56. _Regulator Pin Practice for Pendant Up Variation._ When the watch is in reasonably satisfactory condition and a three position test proves that the pendant up position has a variation of from ten to twenty seconds either fast or slow compared to the horizontal positions, the regulator pins may be the first point of examination. If there is considerable vibration of the coil between them, and the pendant rate is slow, it will be necessary to close the pins and if the rate is fast and the pins are found to be closed so that there is no vibration of the coil, it will be necessary to spread them slightly. Closing the pins will of course make the general timing of the watch faster and spreading them will make it slower and therefore it will be necessary to regulate the watch for one or two seconds per hour before again testing it in positions. The result of either operation, however, will be to cause the rate in the pendant up position to conform more closely to the horizontal rates. Preliminary and profitable two position experiments can be made between dial up and pendant up, by having the pins closed on most any watch that is in good order and timing it within five or ten seconds in twenty-four hours, then rating it in these two positions. Next spread the pins slightly, re-time the watch and rate it in the same two positions and compare the variations. A few experiments of this description will soon demonstrate as to the extent of correction that can be obtained in this way.[C] The rule of equal vibration of the coil between the pins after they have been spread must be rigidly enforced. 57. _Pendant Up Corrections Through Poise of Balance._ Assuming that the motion and regulator pins seem to be satisfactory, the next point of investigation should be the poise of balance. The hairspring should be removed and the pivots known to be straight and polished before testing. The rollers are of course a part of the balance and are not to be removed. A perfectly poised balance can be stopped at any point on the tool and it should at least remain stationary at each of the four quarters of its circumference. No. 28, Chapter VII, should be consulted for details on poise corrections. 58. _Concentricity of the Hairspring._ The next point of consideration may be the concentricity of the hairspring, and it is quite important that the spring be centered as nearly perfect as the trained eye can determine. Any unusual pressure of the spring in one direction will cause undue friction and a fast rate compared to the opposite direction. There are several easy tests for determining as to how nearly the spring may be centered. One of these is to look straight down upon the spring and examine the space between the coils that extend beyond the circumference of the dome. This test may be made in three ways, one with the balance at rest, one with the coils of the spring wound up and the third with the coils unwound. With the balance at rest and the spring centered there will be the same space between the coils all around as though the spring were out of the watch entirely and laying on the bench. If it is not properly centered there will be more space between the coils on one side than there will be on the opposite. The same conditions will be apparent when the spring is wound up, although the coils will all be nearer to each other than they were with the balance at rest, and when they are unwound the coils will all be farther apart with the same apparent difference on opposite sides when the centering is not correct. The winding and unwinding of the spring is alternating and almost instantaneous, as the balance oscillates from one extreme to the other. For observation of the spring when it is wound or unwound it is necessary to stop the balance with the finger or camel's hair brush as it reaches its extreme arc of motion, then hold it stationary for a few seconds while the space between the coils is being examined. The balance should then be allowed to swing to the opposite extreme, when it should again be held for examination of the coils. In one of these extremes the coils will be wound and in the other they will be unwound and after a few experiments in stopping and starting the balance it will be found that the entire examination will not require over ten seconds' time. When the spring is not properly centered the reason is of course found in some curve of the over coil and the most usual point at fault is the section or curve on which the regulator pins act. If the coils open too wide on the side where the regulator pins are located this section of the coil will be too near the center and should be moved outward, possibly equal to one-half or one full space of the coils. If the coils are too close on the side where the pins are it will probably be found that the section requires shifting toward the center slightly. The balance should be removed from the watch in either instance and the coil circled with the over-coiling tweezer, although experienced workmen can frequently make excellent corrections with a fine pointed tweezer without removing the balance. Finely adjusted watches will always be found to have springs as nearly perfectly centered as it is possible for expert workmen to get them and it is quite interesting and instructive to observe the vibration of a perfect spring by any one interested in the work. Some watchmakers center the spring on the balance cock before it is staked on the balance and very good results can be obtained in this way. The balance cock is placed on the bench in the inverted position which makes it easy to locate the point or curve requiring alteration. 59. _Correcting Pendant Up Variation Through Pinning Point Alterations._ Should most careful investigation of the condition of the watch indicate that the Motion, Regulator Pins, Poise of Balance and Centering of the Hairspring as well as the general condition of the watch are satisfactory and the rating show that there is still considerable variation between the horizontal positions and the pendant up position there is still one source through which positive correction may be obtained. This refers to the relative positions of the collet and stud pinning points which is defined with explanatory cuts and formula in Chapter VIII. 60. _Percentage of Watches Requiring Correction of Position Rates._ In constructing this chapter and the preceding one it has been preferred to go into detail for the purpose of defining the possible corrections and alterations, together with the results to be expected. Not every watch demanding position correction would require the extent of investigation and possible alteration that is pointed out and in most instances the direct cause will be disclosed with very little investigation. In fact, the experienced adjuster can tell almost immediately where to look for trouble by merely observing the position rate as entered on the card. It should also be clearly understood by the student that when the repairing and cleaning of high grade watches is done by one who understands the details of adjusting, there will be only a very small proportion of the watches requiring position corrections. As a rule among experienced adjusters there will be about seventy per cent of the watches that will have very close rates. If, therefore, one hundred watches are put in order and tested in positions there should be seventy that do not require any correction, while about thirty will require either minor or major alteration. The time required for making alterations on this thirty per cent of the watches will be offset by a smaller percentage of unsatisfactory returns and a better reputation for doing good work. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote C: See Chapter IX, on Regulator Pin Alterations.] CHAPTER XIII CONCRETE EXAMPLES SHOWING DEFINITE THREE POSITION ALTERATIONS AND LABOR UTILIZED 61. _Order of Position Timing and Method of Calculating the Variation._ In submitting the previous chapters it is assumed that the average ambitious watchmaker will gain enough knowledge from the various details to enable him to understand the meaning of the adjustment of watches, the causes of variations and the principal alterations for obtaining corrections. There are many features covered that will enable him to develop in practice and to experiment in individual points of importance, without running up against mathematical deductions that halt and discourage further interest in the subject. To understand the principles constitutes a large percentage of the qualifications required and to be able to execute the practical alterations and corrections required in different kinds of variations completes the general qualifications. It would hardly be sufficient, however, to conclude the work at this point without giving more definite examples for comparison, together with some indication as to the approximate time that may ordinarily be utilized in doing the work and also showing some instances of a possible choice of several alterations and why a particular alteration is advisable. For this reason the following examples will be found to have an important part in fulfilling the mission of this book. In selecting these examples the fineness of results has not been the principal consideration. The deciding factor was the differences in variation and alterations, and the fact that they cover the widest field for general instruction that could be selected from hundreds of equally good rates among various models of watches which, with three exceptions, were put in order for railroad service. The method of computing the variation from one position to any other is similar to that used in temperature adjusting as described in Chapter 3, No. 13. The watch should first be timed closely and then rated for twenty-four hours in each position. It should be wound before being started in each position but should be set only on the first day so that the time is never disturbed. The first position to be rated is universally Dial Up, then in succession Dial Down, Pendant Up, Pendant Right and Pendant Left. The daily total number of seconds fast or slow should be entered in the first column of the rate card after each twenty-four hours run. This column then constitutes the progressive rate from which the actual variation between the different positions is ascertained. The figure in the upper square is first carried out to the adjoining column at its full value and then the difference between this figure and that of the second square is entered in the second square of second column, and so on until the difference between each of the succeeding squares of first column is registered in the second column. If the figure in a square of first column is greater than that in the preceding square the carried out figure would be entered in second column as + If the figure is less than the preceding square it would be carried out as-. The total variation in positions is obtained from the figures entered in second column. If these figures are all entered as either plus or minus it is necessary to merely subtract the lesser figure from the greater. If, however, some figures are entered as plus and others as minus it will be necessary to add the greater figure of each of the two denominations. 62. _Example No. 1, Three Positions._ Columbus, No. 358846, Open Face, 17 Jewels. Repairs Made. New balance staff, two balance screws changed, hairspring trued and cleaned. After timing the watch closely it was tested in three positions and found to have a variation of eleven seconds fast pendant up as per second column, Fig. 16. Fig. 16 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _358846_ Make _Columbus_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 1 | + 1 | + 4 | + 4 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | 0 | - 1 | + 7 | + 3 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | +10 | +10 | +14 | + 7 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 11 4 Investigation showed the hairspring to be pinned nearly correct, true level and in circle; balance true; regulator pins closed and motion satisfactory. A correction could have been made in one of several ways; either by making a slight alteration of the pinning point at the collet; correcting a possible slight error in poise or by slightly spreading the regulator pins. As the extent of variation did not indicate any serious error at any particular point for a watch of this description the possible poise error and the slight variation in the pinning point were waived and the regulator pins were spread just enough so that slight equal vibration of the coil could be seen with a double eyeglass. After this alteration the mean time was found to be one second per hour slow which was corrected on the mean time screws and the next test showed that the variation had been reduced to four second as per fourth column, Fig. 16. The time consumed in making the alteration aside from the repairing was less than ten minutes. 63. _Example No. 2, Three Positions._ Ball No. B060816, Open Face, 17 Jewels. Repairs made. Refinished balance pivots and cleaned. The first test in positions disclosed a variation of thirty-five seconds as per second column Fig. 17. Investigation found the balance true; hairspring true, level and circle; regulator pins very nearly closed and the motion one and one-eighth turn. This rate like example No. 1, was also fast in the pendant up position, but the greater extent of the error indicated that there must be some serious poise error, and upon investigation this was found to be the case. A screw on the roller jewel side or at the bottom when the balance was at rest was found to be heavy. This was corrected and the next test showed a much improved rate although there was still a variation of eight seconds fast pendant up as per fourth column Fig. 17. Fig. 17 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _B060816_ Make _Ball_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 2 | + 2 | + 7 | + 7 | + 7 | + 7 | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | + 2 | 0 | +14 | + 7 | +14 | + 7 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | +37 | +35 | +29 | +15 | +24 | +10 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 35 8 3 A better rate than this was desired and further examination proved that the locking of the pallet stones and escape teeth was quite strong and caused the pendant up motion to have a shorter arc than would have been entirely desirable. An alteration was made by pushing the receiving stone further back into the slot and rebanking the escapement. The third position test showed an improved motion and a variation of three seconds as per sixth column. The total time required for making the alterations was about three quarters of an hour. 64. _Example No. 3, Three Positions._ Elgin No. 7457488. Open Face, 21 Jewels. Repairs made. Cleaned; polished pivots and new mainspring fitted. The first position test showed a variation of nineteen seconds as per second column, Fig. 18. It will be noted that this example differs from Nos. 1 and 2, in that the rate is slow in the pendant up position. Examination showed all points satisfactory except that the regulator pins were spread considerably and allowed too much freedom of vibration for the coil. Had this vibration been slight it would have been advisable to examine the poise. As it was considerable, however, the alteration made was to close the pins so that only slight vibration was visible with a strong glass. Fig. 18 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _7457488_ Make _Elgin_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | - 9 | - 9 | + 5 | + 5 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | -18 | - 9 | + 8 | + 3 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | -46 | -28 | + 9 | + 1 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 19 4 This watch was not equipped with mean time screws and it was therefore necessary to fit a pair of thin timing washers because closing the pins caused a gaining rate of two seconds per hour in the mean time. The next position test showed a variation of four seconds as per fourth column Fig. 18. The time consumed in making the alteration and fitting the washers was about ten minutes. 65. _Example No. 4, Three Positions._ Hampden No. 1438676, Open Face, 21 Jewels. Repairs made. New balance staff and hole jewel fitted and cleaned. The first position test showed a variation of twelve seconds slow pendant up as per second column Fig. 19. Fig. 19 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _1438676_ Make _Hampden | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 2 | + 2 | + 2 | + 2 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | + 4 | + 2 | + 6 | + 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | - 6 | -10 | + 9 | + 3 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 12 2 Investigation found all points such as balance true, hairspring true, level and circle and the regulator pins reasonably satisfactory. The motion, however, was not as good as it should have been when the spring was nearly wound up. It was let down to where it would ordinarily be after about twenty-hours run and found to have barely one turn pendant up and a trifle over one turn in the flat positions. This proved that the motion was not satisfactory for a watch that had just been put in order and all pivots were examined for close end or side shake; they were found to be satisfactory and the mainspring was removed for examination and found to be somewhat set and about 0.01 mm. thinner than those generally used for this grade watch. A new mainspring was fitted and the motion was improved by about one-fourth of a turn and the next position test showed a variation of two seconds as per fourth column Fig. 19. The time consumed in examination and changing the mainspring was about twenty-five minutes. The three position limit of variation allowed by most manufacturers and railroad inspectors is seven seconds from one position to any other. Records of thousands of watches on which the work has been carefully done in putting the watches in order, show that about seventy per cent of the watches will rate within five seconds in the three positions without making alterations and that only ten per cent will be close to the limit of seven seconds, while about twenty per cent will require alterations such as shown in the four examples above. (See Chapter XII, No. 60.) One or two more examples might be introduced to show variations and corrections between dial up and dial down; this feature has been pretty well covered however in Chapter XI, and five position example No. 9 also shows a variation of the horizontal rates with correction. CHAPTER XIV CONCRETE EXAMPLES SHOWING DEFINITE FIVE POSITION ALTERATIONS AND LABOR UTILIZED 66. _What Five Position Adjusting Consists of--Detailed Allowances._ Five position adjusting consists of a further refinement of the condition of the watch. The fact that a very close rate is shown in the first three positions is not an indication that the watch will be an excellent timepiece under all conditions. In fact there are instances where there may be an excellent three position rate and a further test in the pendant right and left positions may disclose some error that would positively prevent close timing in service. Even under the five position test the limit of allowance must be reasonably close or unfavorable conditions may exist and cause irregularity in timing. A popular allowance for very fine watches among Swiss and some American manufacturers is six seconds variation for the five positions as an extreme limit, and for medium high grades ten seconds extreme variation is considered a fair allowance. These allowances are graduated, however, and a six seconds extreme allowance watch would have an allowance not exceeding three seconds in the horizontal positions, with two seconds additional in the pendant up position and one second additional in either the pendant right or pendant left positions. Watches having an extreme allowance of ten seconds may be permitted to have not more than five seconds variation between the two horizontal positions, with two seconds additional for the pendant up position and still three seconds additional in either the pendant right or left positions. It will be noted that there is considerable difference between six or ten second allowances of this description and straight limits of six or ten seconds. Some manufacturers have greater limits of allowance, sometimes as great as twenty-five seconds for the five positions, but as a rule the first three positions are required to rate within seven seconds and the difference of eighteen seconds is divided between the right and left positions. Under limits of this description a watch that would not be tolerated under the six or ten seconds class would be considered as good. Watches having such large allowances, however, and rating close to the limit are hardly justified in being considered as adjusted to five positions. The fact that they are so considered however, is the reason why watchmakers will sometimes fine wide variation in new watches before they have been damaged or mishandled. The following five position examples were selected with the same care as were the three position specimens and will be found to cover a wide field of variation for comparison with rates that the adjuster may desire to correct. 67. _Example No. 5._ Hamilton, No. 248027; Open Face, 21 Jewels. Repairs made. New balance staff and cleaned. The first test in five positions showed a variation of twenty seconds as per second column Fig. 20. It will be noted that in four of the positions the rate was quite close and that the pendant right position had an extremely fast rate. A casual investigation indicated that all points relating to the spring, regulator pins and balance were reasonably satisfactory but that there was a slight falling off in motion in the pendant right position. Further investigation of this feature disclosed a slight striking sound when the watch was held to the ear in this position. The dial was removed and the bankings were closed to drop whereupon it was discovered that the fork was long on the inside, or when the receiving stone was locked on the escape teeth. This prevented the roller jewel from passing through the fork freely as it did on the opposite side. The balance pivots had the limit of allowance for side shake which aided the cause of the roller jewel in striking. Fig. 20 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _248027_ Make _Hamilton_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 1 | + 1 | + 3 | + 3 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | + 2 | + 1 | + 7 | + 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | + 4 | + 2 | + 8 | + 1 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P R | +22 | +18 | +12 | + 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P L | +20 | - 2 | + 8 | - 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 20 8 After correcting the roller jewel shake and readjusting the slide and guard pin freedom the next test showed a variation of eight seconds in the five positions as per fourth column Fig. 20. The side shake of the balance pivots was not detrimental after the real cause of the variation had been removed and therefore no correction was required in this respect. If the error in the escapement had not existed and if the watch had shown the same rate with all points appearing to be satisfactory, the trouble would most likely have been found in the poise of balance with the upper side heavy in the pendant right position. The time consumed in making the correction was about one half hour. 68. _Example No. 6._ Elgin. B. W. Raymond. No. 4,109,543, Open Face, 15 Jewels. Repairs made. New fourth pinion; new end stone; mainspring; refinished balance pivots and cleaned. Note that this was only a 15-Jewel watch. It belonged to a railroad engineer, however, who wanted it placed in first class condition, as it had not been satisfactory. The first five position test showed an error of twenty-four seconds as per second column Fig. 21. Examination of the motion, pivots, regulator pins, escapement and poise proved them to be satisfactory. The hairspring however, was found to be pinned at the slow pendant up point as per illustration in Fig. 22. Fig. 21 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _4109543_ Make _Elgin_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 8 | + 8 | + 2 | + 2 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | +16 | + 8 | + 3 | + 1 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | 0 | -16 | + 2 | - 1 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | P R | + 4 | + 4 | - 1 | - 3 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | P L | - 1 | - 5 | - 6 | - 5 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 24 7 The alteration made was to break out one-half of the inner coil at collet so that it was pinned at the fast point as illustrated in Fig. 23. A pair of balance screws were removed and a heavier pair fitted to correct the mean time, which would have been about ten minutes fast in twenty-four hours because of shortening the spring. The balance was repoised and the next test in positions showed a variation of seven seconds as per fourth column Fig. 21. The time required for making the alteration was about one half hour. [Illustration: Fig. 22] [Illustration: Fig. 23] This watch was a full plate model with the train developing to the left from the center and illustrations No. 22 and 23 are given to show that, while the train follows the Swiss development, the spring follows the American method and develops to the right from the collet even though it is located to the left of the watch center. The principle remains the same as that illustrated by Figs. 9 and 11 and explained in Chapter VIII. 69. _Example No. 7._ Waltham. No. 10504112. Open Face, Vanguard model, 23 Jewels. Repairs made. Cleaned and new hole jewel. First five position test showed a very erratic rate as per second column Fig. 24. Investigation proved that the motion dropped off considerably after a few hours run and that the mainspring was too weak for this grade of watch. A proper mainspring was fitted which in turn corrected the motion, but the next test in positions proved that there was still a variation of eighteen seconds as per fourth column Fig. 24. Fig. 24 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _10504112_ Make _Waltham_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | 0 | 0 | - 2 | - 2 | - 1 | - 1 | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | 0 | 0 | - 5 | - 3 | - 1 | 0 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | +14 | +14 | -21 | -16 | - 4 | - 3 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P R | + 4 | -10 | -19 | + 2 | - 5 | - 1 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P L | +16 | +12 | -25 | - 6 | - 3 | + 2 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 24 18 5 The balance and spring were removed and considerable poise trouble was discovered. The trouble was at different points of the balance and no one location seemed to be heavy at all times. The balance pivots were carefully gauged with a metric micrometer and found to be out of round, or to be exact, more oval in form than cylindrical. A new staff with round pivots was fitted, after which the balance was easily poised and the next test showed a variation of five seconds as per sixth column Fig. 24. The total time required for making the examination and alterations was about one hour. 70. _Example No. 8._ Vacheron and Constantin. No. 272,854, Open Face, 21 Jewels. Repairs made. New balance staff, hole jewel, cap jewel, glass, and cleaned. The first test after making the repairs showed a variation of twelve seconds as per second column Fig. 25. It will be observed that the rates in the horizontal positions are on the fast side and those in the vertical positions are on the slow side. In this instance the hairspring developed to the left from the collet similar to the illustration shown in Fig. 10, page 45. Fig. 25 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _272854_ Make _V. & C._ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 2 | + 2 | - 4 | - 4 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | + 5 | + 3 | - 8 | - 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | - 1 | - 6 | -14 | - 6 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P R | - 8 | - 7 | -21 | - 7 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P L | -17 | - 9 | -25 | - 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 12 3 Investigation found the escapement, regulator pins and pinning point satisfactory; the motion was one and one-fourth turn in the vertical positions when fully wound and only a trifle less when partially let down. In the flat positions, however, the motion was very little better than in the vertical, which indicated either pivot or end stone trouble as under normal conditions the flat motion would be about one-fourth turn greater than that of the vertical. Inspection of the end stones proved that they were satisfactory but the ends of the balance pivots were found to be somewhat flat and not perfectly polished. The ends of the pivots were slightly rounded and highly polished, the jewels and end stones cleaned and reoiled and the balance replaced, after which the motion in the flat positions was one and one-half turn with the mainspring fully wound and only slightly less when partially let down. The motion in the vertical positions was also slightly improved and the next test in position showed a variation of three seconds as per fourth column Fig. 25. Time required for making the above alteration was about one-half hour. In the study of this example it should be clearly understood that when the ends of balance pivots are flat, burred or not well polished, or when the end stones are dry or dirty the motion in the horizontal positions will be shorter than normal and this will always cause the rate to be faster than it should be. Acceleration of the motion in such instances by means of refinishing the pivot ends or by cleaning and reoiling the jewels and end stones will always produce a slower rate through causing a longer arc of motion. This point is covered in Chapter XI, No. 47. 71. _Example No. 9._ E. Howard. No. 1,116,735. Open Face, 23 Jewels. Repairs made. New balance staff; hole jewel; mainspring and cleaned. The first test in positions showed a variation of eleven seconds. The rate in all positions was fast with the exception of the dial down rate, which was slow. See Fig. 26. At first glance it might appear that by causing a faster rate of six or seven seconds in the dial down position the watch would have a very good rate. This, however, would not be consistent unless the rate was due to the exception referred to in Chapter XI, No. 50. Examination of the motion in the horizontal positions proved that it was about one fourth turn better in the dial down position than it was in the dial up position which rate compared very closely with the vertical positions. It was therefore evident that the dial up rate was not true and investigation found the oil in the upper jewel had become thickened by the entrance of dirt which caused the short motion and fast rate when the balance was running on this end stone. Fig. 26 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _1116735_ Make _E. Howard_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | + 2 | + 2 | - 5 | - 5 | + 2 | + 2 | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | - 3 | - 5 | -10 | - 5 | + 4 | + 2 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | + 1 | + 4 | - 6 | + 4 | + 9 | + 5 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P R | + 7 | + 6 | 0 | + 6 | +10 | + 1 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P L | + 9 | + 2 | + 2 | + 2 | +14 | + 4 | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ 11 11 4 After thoroughly cleaning the jewel, end stone and pivot, the motion in the dial up position was improved and equaled that of the dial down position. The next position test showed the horizontal rates to be equal but the variation of eleven seconds in the five positions still existed as per fourth column Fig. 26. The vertical rates were all fast compared to the horizontal; the regulator pins were found to be slightly open which prevented a correction at this point. The locking of the escapement was examined and found to be satisfactory, so the balance was again removed and tested for poise which was also found satisfactory. The hairspring was pinned at the usual fast point as per illustration in Fig. 9, Chapter VIII. The most positive alteration to be made under the circumstances was to break off the spring at the collet and repin it at about 45° above the horizontal line. This would be slightly approaching the slow point as explained in detail in Chapter VIII, No. 35. The mean rate of the watch would necessarily be faster after shortening the spring; the mean time screws were found to be turned in close to the rim and were each turned out about one full turn to compensate for the gain. The poise was tested and found to remain correct and the next position test showed a variation of four seconds as per sixth column Fig. 26. The total time required for the alterations was about one hour. 72. _Example No. 10._ Illinois. No. 1,483,023, Open Face, 21 Jewels. Repairs made. Trued and poised balance, new balance jewel and cleaned. This example has been selected for the purpose of illustrating a test in the sixth or pendant down position and to give a practical demonstration showing that the rates in the pendant down and pendant up positions can be reversed, with positive results, through reversing the collet pinning point of the spring, as covered in "Relative Pinning Points" Chapter VIII. This alteration can be undertaken with assurance of results even though there may be serious errors of construction in the watch. The first five position test proved that the rate pendant up was extremely fast compared to all other rates as per second column Fig. 27. Investigation proved that the hairspring was properly centered and pinned at the fast pendant point and that the regulator pins were slightly spread with equal vibration of the coil between them. The motion was about one and one-fourth turn pendant up and over one and one-half turn in the horizontal positions when the mainspring was nearly full wound. The ends of balance pivots were found to be perfectly flat, which was no doubt due to an effort to produce a faster rate in the flat positions to cause them to compare more favorably with the pendant up rate. This, however, was unsuccessful as indicated by the rate. It is quite possible that if the watch ever was closely rated it was due to counterpoise of the balance as with the present rate the poise, escapement and regulator pins were satisfactory and did not admit of further corrections that would be of advantage. By examining the P. U. rate in second column Fig. 27, it will be found to be twelve seconds fast and then by referring to the separate P. D. (Pendant Down) rate at the bottom, it will be found to be four seconds slow. Adding these figures gives a total variation of sixteen seconds between these two positions. Fig. 27 +--------------------------------------------------+ | No. _1483023_ Make _Illinois_ | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | D U | - 3 | - 3 | - 1 | - 1 | | | P | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | D D | - 8 | - 5 | - 2 | - 1 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P U | + 4 | +12 | - 6 | - 4 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P R | 0 | - 4 | - 4 | + 2 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | | P L | - 6 | - 6 | - 7 | - 3 | | | | +--------+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | P.D. | - 4 +11 | +--------+-----------------------+ Now if these rates were reversed and the P. D. rate was in the place of the P. U. rate the watch would have shown a very good position rate in the first five positions and the greater part of the sixteen seconds variation would have been in the pendant down position where it would be of the least disadvantage. In order to obtain this condition the collet pinning point was changed from the fast to the slow point, or from "E", Fig. 9, to "G", Fig. 11, Chapter VIII. A pair of heavier screws were fitted to the balance to compensate for the difference in time caused by shortening the spring and the next five position test showed a variation of six seconds. A separate pendant down test proved that the pendant up and pendant down rates had been practically reversed as shown in the fourth column. 73. _Causes of Extremely Fast Vertical Rates._ Extremely fast pendant up rates are not particularly unusual, although the causes and corrections may be widely different. For instance, the poise and motion feature, No. 28, Chapter VII, may be responsible, or the balance may be in poise and the collet having a wide slot may cause out of poise and be responsible if the slot is located at the proper point. A defective escapement or regulator pins tightly closed may also be responsible. Should these points be found satisfactory, however, the rate is generally due to one of three causes. 1. Excessive side friction of pivots because of being too large in diameter. 2. Train wheels and pinions being of incorrect proportion and causing irregular motion and affecting the vertical positions mostly. 3. Centrifugal force, which would cause the balance rims to spring outward in the longer arcs of vibration and thereby produce an abnormal slow rate in the horizontal positions where the arc of motion is always longest. This is due to the balance rims being too heavy in proportion to the arms or center bar. * * * * * When either of these three conditions are found there will be others among the same lot of watches, but as a rule they are only found on older watches made before correct proportions were firmly established. Train depthings can often be improved if the workman is equipped with a rounding up machine and knows how to use it. Otherwise the watch can be sent to the factory for correction and the only alternative of the repairer is to cut the spring to the slow point, or counterpoise, with the intention of eliminating expense and getting as good results as can be expected for the financial returns that are to be received. 74. _How to Locate Defective Gearings._ Defective gear or depthing of wheels can be detected in two ways, one by observing the engaging surfaces of the wheel teeth and another by testing the engagement of wheel and pinion. If the gearing is correct, observation will show that the engaging surfaces of the wheel teeth are smooth and either dark or possibly polished from wearing away of the plating. If the gearings are not correct the engaging surfaces will have cuts or ridges crosswise which have been produced by the pinion leaves. The cause of this cutting is due to either a faulty construction of the teeth or to the fact that the pitch circle of the wheel is too small while that of the pinion is too large. Testing the gearing in the watch is accomplished by placing the engaging wheel and pinion in the watch so that they are free to turn without engaging with any other wheel. A piece of ivory or celluloid several inches long and about the diameter of a piece of peg wood should be pointed at one end and this end should be held between the upper pivot and oil cup of the jewel, with enough pressure of the left hand to cause friction in turning the pinion. The larger wheel should then be turned in the direction in which it revolves when running; this is accomplished with a piece of peg wood held in the right hand. If the gearing is perfect there will be smoothness as the wheel and pinion turn and if it is imperfect there will be a butting effect in the action. Should there be a slight intermittent stepping action due to drop of the wheel teeth on the pinion leaves it should not be mistaken for butting as this is not detrimental and will not cause cutting of the teeth. Watches that have below standard train gearings require considerably stronger mainsprings than do those which have correct gearing and they will seldom take a reasonably good motion without a strong spring. A safe way to judge gearings if in doubt is by the motion and the engaging surfaces of the wheel teeth. If the motion is steady and the teeth are not cut by the pinion leaves they may be considered as satisfactory. If the motion is steady for a time and then suddenly drops off there is generally something wrong in the gearing. The wheel and pinion in error can be determined by noting at what particular intervals the motion decreases. In nearly all instances this condition will cause a gaining rate in the vertical positions because of the fact that the vertical arcs are shorter and comparatively more easily affected than the horizontal arcs. CHAPTER XV TIMING AND FINAL REGULATION 75. _Mean Time Screws and Timing Washers._ In the general overhauling of watches, changing staffs, retruing and repoising of balances it is often necessary to make corrections of several minutes per day in the mean time. For this reason and for the convenience of the future some manufacturers have provided from two to four mean time screws in the balances. A complete revolution of these screws either in or out, generally corrects any variation that may be required and frequently considerably less is all that is required in bringing the watch to time. It is of course necessary that these screws be turned in opposite pairs as well as equal distances and that they be fitted with enough friction to prevent looseness and not too tight to cause bending of the pivots when they are turned. If properly used for the purpose for which they were intended they are of inestimable value to the repairing fraternity in producing results. The manufacturers of some watches do not supply mean time screws with the balances and the repairer is obliged to depend entirely upon timing washers for fast corrections, for it is, of course, not to be expected that repair shops will carry an assortment of all different kinds of screws such as the factories are able to maintain. Occasionally a jeweler or watchmaker will be found who has strenuous objections to the use of timing washers in any sense, but unless they are supplied with a large assortment of the various makes and weights of screws and are willing to use the extra time required for properly changing the screws it is difficult to see just what legitimate alternative they can adopt. Investigation of this point disclosed the fact that the method employed by some watchmakers was to spread the regulator pins, which would of course make the mean time slower but would certainly destroy the adjustment to positions and make it practically impossible to obtain results from the regulator. It is admittedly poor workmanship to use ill-fitting washers and poor taste to use brass washers on high grade gold screw balances, but the fact should not be overlooked that the manufacturers of many fine watches use washers to a limited extent, even when an abundance of balance screws are available and very fine Swiss models are often supplied with a pair of thin platinum washers which are not easily detected. The regulator should not be moved from the center of the index in correcting the mean time but should be used for minor final regulation only. The length of the hairspring should also not be disturbed in correcting the mean time of an adjusted watch and while a slow rate can be corrected by reducing the weight of a pair of balance screws it is necessary to use either heavier screws or washers for correcting a fast rate. 76. _Importance of Properly Fitted Regulator._ Final regulation of watches is necessary after making repairs regardless as to whether they have been adjusted to positions or not. Position rating does not necessarily suggest that the timing has been completed as the object is only to limit the variations from one position to any other and a test of three or four days should always be made in one position after the position rating has been completed. This additional timing has for its purpose the close regulation of the watch either in the pendant up position or in the position it is carried. The last column on the rate card is reserved for this purpose. In this respect the repairer who comes in contact with the customer may gain considerable advantage by noting in which pocket the watch is usually carried and then being guided in the final regulation by this knowledge. The method of doing this regulating consists generally of moving the regulator which requires certain attention to be effective when it is moved. The regulator should be carefully fitted around the dome and all attachments in connection should be tightly fitted to the plate or bridge so that they will remain rigid when regulation takes place. The tension around the dome should be even and if a tension spring is used in connection it should be strong enough to keep the regulator against the screw constantly without sticking at any point as the screw is moved forward and backward. It should also be closely examined to see that there is no shake. This can be determined by lightly taking hold of the segment holding the regulator pins and moving it up and down and side ways before the tension spring is fitted. This should be examined with a glass and a correction made if any looseness is noted. 77. _Effect of the Middle Temperature Error._ In the final regulation of watches it is important that the middle temperature error receive due consideration. This error is always a few seconds fast as explained in temperature adjusting Chapter V, No. 21, and is of some consequence in the larger number of complaints regarding losing rates in the pocket, compared to complaints of gaining rates. The position rating as well as the final regulation is generally done in normal temperature which produces a rate from two to four seconds faster than the heat extreme and it is to be expected that the pocket rate will be slower because the temperature will be higher than normal. This loss may not be the full amount of the middle error as it would depend upon the actual temperature encountered for the entire twenty-four hours and the watch may only be subjected to the pocket temperature for a part of this period. This works in exactly the same way in a lower temperature, as the variation is a loss in either direction from the middle or normal temperature and in case that the watch should be subjected to a freezing temperature at night the result will be a loss during that period. As an example we will assume the regulation of a watch in which the temperature rate at the extremes of 40° and 90° Fahr. is perfect, while at the temperature of 70° it will time four seconds fast. Now if this watch is regulated to no variation in the normal temperature it will be plainly seen that there will be a loss of four seconds per day if the watch is placed in service at either of the temperature extremes. If it had been regulated to run four seconds fast in the middle or normal temperature it would time more nearly correct in the pocket. It is safe to assume that the watch will lose its proportional rate with a lesser change in temperature and for this reason it is of advantage to finally regulate all watches from two to four seconds fast in the rack rather than to time them just correct. 78. _Some Practical Reasons for Slow Rates._ There are additional reasons for the suggestion of timing watches a few seconds fast rather than just correct. Among them may be mentioned the fact that many watches are carried in the left vest pocket, and that in this instance they very often assume the pendant right position which is generally a trifle slow compared to pendant up in most watches of close adjustment. Magnetism to any extent whatever always causes a slow rate and this will have its effect whenever the balance, hairspring, regulator, regulator spring or pallet are slightly effected or when the mainspring, large winding wheels or case springs are considerably charged and experiments have shown that in no instance has a fast rate been produced from this cause. The gradual weakening or loss of elastic force of the hairspring is also a factor to be considered. There are some influences which cause a gaining rate that to some extent may offset these losses, although in the absence of necessity for cleaning or other repairs these influences are slight in comparison to the natural and possible causes for a slow rate. PART III SPECIAL NOTES CHAPTER XVI SPECIAL NOTES 79. _Efficiency of Execution Analyzed (Two Examples)._ In performance of the various alterations and corrections that have been touched upon in the chapters devoted to position adjusting there are some points that deserve special note. This refers to positive execution of the correction which the watchmaker sets out to make. As an example we may analyze the simple feature of polishing a pivot and cleaning and reoiling a jewel to improve the motion in one of the horizontal positions. Ordinarily this would seem to be a very simple proceeding requiring no additional remarks. It is, however, quite possible to go through all of the operations of removing, cleaning and reoiling the jewel and polishing the pivot and then find that no improvement has been made in the motion. Invariably the workman of moderate experience will say that he has just cleaned and reoiled the jewel and polished the pivot and that it must be all right. Investigation, however, will sometimes show that the pivot has again been marred or that a particle of dirt has found its way into the jewel hole during replacement either through dust in the oil or through clinging to the end of the pivot when the balance was laying on the bench. This experience is one that comes occasionally to the best and most careful adjusters and if it is found that results have not been obtained the first time it will be necessary to go over the operations a second time. It is possible to almost entirely eliminate this duplication of work if proper care is exercised in examining the pivot and jewel with a good glass before replacing and in using oil from a closed receptacle in which it has not been possible for dust to collect. The point raised in this instance is that the improvement desired is not assured because of merely going through the operations of doing the work. It is necessary to actually remove the cause and then keep it removed. The proof is found in the improved motion and it would hardly be worth while to retest in positions until this improvement was obtained. Proper curvature of the over coil within the range of the regulator pins is another feature that may be corrected and the correction unconsciously destroyed in replacing the balance or in centering the spring. A slight kink in the coil close to the regulator pins may cause the spring to be forced out of center when the regulator is moved, or it may cause the coil to lay against one pin and cease vibrating between the pins. This would cause a gain of some seconds per day when the regulator had actually been moved to cause a slower rate. These two examples are introduced to convey the idea that it is necessary to actually produce the corrections or alterations in any instance and that close timing and close position rates depend more upon this practical execution and understanding as displayed by the watch repairer than they do upon a high degree of technical knowledge. Personal instruction of watchmakers in adjusting has demonstrated in most instances that the refinements are not considered seriously enough at first, but that consistent practice and reference to the rules soon make the proper impression, after which results are attained in less time than was at first required for faulty execution. 80. _Truing the Balance._ The balance should invariably be true in the round and flat and always in poise before it is placed in the watch. It is at times pardonable to pass a balance that is not perfectly true in the round, especially when the watch has been repaired on several occasions and it is noted that the rims have a tendency to become set slightly inward or outward after having been perfectly trued. This shows a natural tendency of the metals to find a permanent position which may be slightly away from the true concentric form. A balance of this description may be poised as it is and often will produce better timing results than would be gained by perfect truing and subsequent regulation during readjustment of the metals. It is advisable to always have the flat true as by doing so any slightly bent pivots will be detected through wavering of the balance and the flat is not very frequently affected by setting of the metals. Balances should generally be trued and poised in normal or slightly above normal temperature. If they are trued in a low temperature they will be out of true and possibly out of poise in the temperature to which they are mostly subjected. Compensation balances are not presumed to be true in the round under variations of temperature and therefore inspection for true is necessary in somewhere near the same temperature in which they are trued. 81. _Poising the Balance._ In poising balances it is necessary to consider the mean rate of the watch and several details in connection therewith. If the rate is known to be fast, weight should be added to the light side, and if it is known to be slow weight may be removed from the heavy side. If the rims of the balance have been trued outward it is a safe rule to remove weight from the heavy side in poising and if they have been bent inward to get the balance true, weight should be added to the light side in poising. A balance that is in perfect poise can be brought to a perfect stop on a fine jeweled poising tool at any point of its circumference. For ordinary work it is generally considered as satisfactory if it can be brought to a perfect stop at each of the four quarters. When the heavy point seems to be first at one place and then just opposite it is proof that either a pivot is bent or oval in form instead of round. In some instances balances will be found to swing slightly and stop at several different places. This is usually an indication that there are several flat places on one or both pivots and if the watch is a fine one the staff will require changing or the pivots may be rounded up on a Jacot Lathe. A fine edge jeweled poising tool is best for fine work as defects in pivots and variations in poise can be more easily discovered than with calipers. 82. _Truing Hairsprings._ Original truing of the hairspring is made necessary by the fact of attaching the collet to its center. When springs are turned out by the manufacturer they are perfectly true, that is, the coils are level and perfectly spiral in form and the deviation from this spiral form, made necessary in attaching the collet, is what demands certain forming of the inner terminal so that it will blend with the other coils of the spring which have not been disturbed. In attaching the collet it is first necessary to have the spring level before the pin is forced tightly in place. This can be fairly well determined by sighting across the flat of the spring and focusing upon the inner coil to see that it is level for at least one half of its length from the point of exit. After this operation has been completed and the pin has been set up tight, with the surplus ends cut off flush with the collet it will be necessary to slightly pull the coil up or down, providing it is not perfectly level. The next operation will be that of truing the round and all work and bending of the spring for this operation is concentrated within the first quarter of the coil from its point of attachment and it is seldom ever necessary to make any bends beyond the first eighth of the coil from the attached point. Figure 28 may be of some value in gaining an idea as to just how this inner coil should appear when it has been trued. The broken lines illustrate a condition after colleting and before truing. The heavy lines illustrate two positions into either of which the coil may be formed in getting the spring true. [Illustration: Fig. 28] The outer black line shows the most adaptable form for most instances. The inner black line shows the most practical form for use in instances where there is unusual space between the collet and the inner coil. It will be noted that these two forms blend into the true spiral form of the spring at about one-eighth of the coil distant from the collet. These forms may be used as a basis for truing the spring in any instance in which it has been bent or mishandled around the collet after its original truing. Experts always true springs after they have been staked to the balance and a light weight calipers tapered on one end to a smaller diameter than the collet is used for spinning the balance, making observations, and corrections. Considerable progress can be made by some watchmakers in removing the spring from the balance and placing it on a colleting tool or tapered broach and then truing the flat and round as good as possible, after which it should be perfected in the calipers. When the balance is spinning in the calipers and the spring is true in the flat there will be no jumping or quivering of the coils as observation is made across the top of the inner four or five coils. When it is perfectly true in the round and the balance is spinning in one direction the coils will seem to be whirling into a hole of which the collet is the center. When spinning the balance in the opposite direction the effect of the coils will be similar to the waves produced by dropping a small stone in still water and they will appear to be whirling away from the center. This effect in both instances is caused by the eye following the spiral form of the coils as the spring revolves. 83. _Treating a Rusty Hairspring._ When rust begins its attack upon any point of a hairspring there will be a constant loss in time until its advance is stopped. Should considerable headway have been made by the rust before the watchmaker's attention is enlisted for an examination it may be necessary to change the spring entirely before good results can again be obtained. There are many instances, however, in which proper care at the right time will produce as good results as will a new spring. The first appearance of rust is generally indicated by one or more spots of a light brown shade and in such instances it has hardly attacked the metal to any serious extent, although usually enough to cause a slightly losing rate. At this stage the spots may be scraped with a piece of peg wood after which the spring can be placed in a small copper pan containing lard oil to a depth of about one-fourth inch. This pan should then be held over an alcohol lamp until the oil becomes hot enough to smoke, after which the spring should be removed, immersed in benzine for about thirty seconds and then dried in sawdust. This treatment will stop further rust and the only indication of previous rust may be a removal of the color from the spot which had been affected. In case that the rust has reached a stage far enough advanced to seriously pit the metal, good results cannot be expected from the spring even though further rusting may be prevented. 84. _Stopping by Escapement Locking When Hands are Set Backward, or When Watch Receives a Jar._ This is sometimes a very annoying trouble and while it should not occur on high grade watches at all, it does show up just often enough to cause a certain degree of unpleasantness for the owner of the watch as well as for the watchmaker. There are two principal causes for the difficulty. One is due to the back of discharging pallet stone having a very sharp corner combined with a slightly rough edge on the back of the escape wheel teeth and when the two factors meet with some slight force, such as is caused by reversal of the train wheels the sharp corner of the stone wedges itself into the rough surface of the tooth and holds until pulled away by some small instrument. This can be remedied by removing the sharp edge of the stone on a diamond charged polishing lap and a very slight correction is sufficient. The second principal cause is due to sharp edges on the roller jewel. First quality roller jewels always have these edges rounded, as otherwise they may wedge into the horn of the fork and often will not release through ordinary shaking of the watch. A short guard pin can also cause the trouble by allowing the roller jewel to catch on the end of the fork horn before it enters, or the guard pin may catch on the edge of the crescent on the safety roller, but the two causes mentioned above will allow "hanging up" even when the guard pin, roller jewel and all other shakes are correct. When the above conditions are correct and all setting connections are properly fitted, the hands may be set either forward or backward without in any way disturbing the time. There are instances, however, where the watch will stop when the hands are reversed and at times the second hand will actually turn backward although the watch will immediately begin to run as soon as the backward pressure on the hands is discontinued. This is caused by the cannon pinion being so tightly fitted that turning it backward will require more force than that which is supplied by the mainspring. A condition of this description is more pronounced when the mainspring is nearly run down and sometimes it will happen at such times and will not occur when the spring is fully wound. 85. _Essentials and Non-Essentials in Cleaning Watches._ It would be difficult to suggest a best method for general cleaning of watches. Different watchmakers have different methods and good results are attained in more than one way. Whatever the method, however, there are certain definite requirements that are fundamental. Among these are the thorough cleansing of pivots, jewels, pinion leaves, wheel teeth, mainspring and winding parts. It is not sufficient to depend upon routine and simply dip the parts in various solutions, brush and reassemble the watch. There are many instances in which the oil becomes gummy and sticks to the jewels and pivots to such an extent that peg wood and pith must be applied with considerable energy to obtain perfectly clean surfaces and holes. The essential feature is that of actually removing every particle of dirt from the contact surface. It is not essential that the plate and bridges should have a high lustre, as this does not facilitate the running. If it is desired and if facilities are available, the plates and bridges may be dipped in benzine and dried in sawdust, then washed and brushed in a solution of hot water, borax and castile soap, then rinsed in fresh water, dipped in alcohol and dried in sawdust. This produces a lustre to the plate bridges and wheels. When it is not convenient to use hot water the parts may be dipped and brushed in benzine for at least one minute and dried in sawdust, then dipped in alcohol and again dried in sawdust. In either event thorough pegging and pithing of the jewels, pivot holes and pivots is necessary as well as brushing and examining all wheel teeth and pinion leaves. The steel parts should be examined and gummy oil eliminated. Fresh oil should be applied in proper quantities in the proper places. This requires some study, as either too much or too little oil is detrimental. When a watch is cleaned annually by the same workman it is not necessary that the mainspring be removed and reoiled each time, for a mainspring properly oiled will last for two or three years before requiring cleaning and reoiling. It is well known that mainsprings frequently break shortly after being removed and cleaned and this annoyance may be avoided in many instances by intelligent use of this rule. Balances should not be dipped in acid solutions, as the liquid gathers under the screws and will often cause them to discolor in a short time. It is better to polish them with fine rouge and cotton thread arranged on a wire bow as the lustre will be more lasting. 
44838	----	available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the numerous original illustrations. See 44838-h.htm or 44838-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44838/44838-h/44838-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/44838/44838-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/timeitsmeasureme00arth Transcriber's note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). The notation "_{n}" means that n is a subscript. Small capital text has been converted to all uppercase. TIME AND ITS MEASUREMENT by JAMES ARTHUR Reprinted from Popular Mechanics Magazine Copyright, 1909, By H. H. Windsor Chicago, 1909 CONTENTS CHAPTER I HISTORIC OUTLINE Time as an abstraction. -- Ancient divisions of day and night. -- Night watches of the Old Testament. -- Quarter days and hours of the New Testament. -- Shadow, or sun time. -- Noon mark dials. -- Ancient dials of Herculaneum and Pompeii. -- Modern dials. -- Equation of time. -- Three historic methods of measuring time. -- "Time-boy" of India. -- Chinese clepsydra. -- Ancient weather and time stations. -- Tower of the winds, Athens, Greece Page 13 CHAPTER II JAPANESE CLOCKS Chinese and Japanese divisions of the day. -- Hours of varying length. -- Setting clocks to length of daylight. -- Curved line dials. -- Numbering hours backwards and strange reasons for same. -- Daily names for sixty day period. -- Japanese clock movements practically Dutch. -- Japanese astronomical clock. -- Decimal numbers very old Chinese. -- Original vertical dials founded on "bamboo stick" of Chinese clepsydra. -- Mathematics and superstition. -- Mysterious disappearance of hours 1, 2, 3. -- Eastern mental attitude towards time. -- Japanese methods of striking hours and half hours Page 25 CHAPTER III MODERN CLOCKS De Vick's clock of 1364. -- Original "verge" escapement. -- "Anchor" and "dead beat" escapements. -- "Remontoir" clock. -- The pendulum. -- Jeweling pallets. -- Antique clock with earliest application of pendulum. -- Turkish watches. -- Correct designs for public clock faces. -- Art work on old watches. -- 24-hour watch. -- Syrian and Hebrew hour numerals. -- Correct method of striking hours and quarters. -- Design for 24-hour dial and hands. -- Curious clocks. -- Inventions of the old clock-makers Page 37 CHAPTER IV ASTRONOMICAL FOUNDATION OF TIME Astronomical motions on which our time is founded. -- Reasons for selecting the sidereal day as a basis for our 24-hour day. -- Year of the seasons shorter than the zodiacal year. -- Precession of the equinoxes. -- Earth's rotation most uniform motion known to us. -- Time stars and transits. -- Local time. -- The date line. -- Standard time. -- Beginning and ending of a day. -- Proposed universal time. -- Clock dial for universal time and its application to business. -- Next great improvement in clocks and watches indicated. -- Automatic recording of the earth's rotation. -- Year of the seasons as a unit for astronomers. -- General conclusions Page 53 ILLUSTRATIONS Page Portrait of James Arthur 8 Interpretation of Chinese and Japanese Methods of Time Keeping 15 Portable Bronze Sundial from the Ruins of Herculaneum 16 Noon-Mark Sundials 17 Modern Horizontal Sundial for Latitude 40°-43´ 18 The Earth, Showing Relation of Dial Styles to Axis 18 Modern Sundial Set Up in Garden 18 "Time-Boy" of India 19 "Hon-woo-et-low," or "Copper Jars Dropping Water"--Canton, China 19 Modern Sand Glass or "Hour Glass" 20 Tower of the Winds, Athens, Greece 20 Key to Japanese Figures 25 Japanese Dials Set for Long and Short Days 25 Japanese Striking Clock with Weight and Short Pendulum 26 Japanese Striking Clock with Spring, Fusee and Balance 26 Japanese Clock with Vertical Dial, Weight and Balance 27 Japanese Clock with Vertical Dial Having Curved Lines, Weight and Balance 27 Japanese Vertical Dials 28 Japanese Striking Clock with Two Balances and Two Escapements 29 "Twelve Horary Branches" and "10 Celestial Stems" as Used in Clocks 30 Key to "12 Horary Branches" and "10 Celestial Stems" 30 Dial of Japanese Astronomical Clock 31 Use of "Yeng Number" and Animal Names of Hours 32 Public Dial by James Arthur 37 Dial of Philadelphia City Hall Clock 37 Verge Escapement 37 De Vick's Clock of 1364 38 Anchor Escapement 38 American Anchor Escapement 39 Dead Beat Escapement 39 Remontoir Clock by James Arthur 40 Remontoir Clock Movement 40 Antique Clock, Entirely Hand-Made 41, 42 Double-Case Watch of Repoussé Work 42 Triple-Case Turkish Watches 43 Watch Showing Dutch Art Work 43 Triple-Case Turkish Watch 44 Watches Showing Art Work 45 Antique Watch Cock 46 "Chinese" Watch 46 Musical Watch, Repeating Hours and Quarters 47 Syrian Dial 47 Hebrew Numerals 48 Twenty-four Hour Watch 48 Domestic Dial by James Arthur 49 Local Time--Standard Time--Beginning and Ending of the Day 57 Universal Time Dial Set for Four Places 61 [Illustration: James Arthur Mr. Arthur is an enthusiastic scientist, a successful inventor and extensive traveler, who has for years been making a study of clocks, watches, and time-measuring devices. He is not only a great authority on this subject, but his collection of over 1500 timepieces gathered from all parts of the globe has been pronounced the finest collection in the world. Mr. Arthur is a pleasing exception to the average business man, for he has found time to do a large amount of study and research along various scientific lines in addition to conducting an important manufacturing business in New York City, of which he is president. Mr. Arthur is 67 years of age.--H. H. Windsor.] CHAPTER I HISTORIC OUTLINE Time as an abstraction. -- Ancient divisions of day and night. -- Night watches of the Old Testament. -- Quarter days and hours of the New Testament. -- Shadow or sun time. -- Noon mark dials. -- Ancient dials of Herculaneum and Pompeii. -- Modern Dials. -- Equation of time. -- Three historic methods of measuring time. -- "Time-boy" of India. -- Chinese clepsydra. -- Ancient weather and time stations. -- Tower of the winds, Athens, Greece. Time, as a separate entity, has not yet been defined in language. Definitions will be found to be merely explanations of the sense in which we use the word in matters of practical life. No human being can tell how long a minute is; only that it is longer than a second and shorter than an hour. In some sense we can think of a longer or shorter period of time, but this is merely comparative. The difference between 50 and 75 steps a minute in marching is clear to us, but note that we introduce motion and space before we can get a conception of time as a succession of events, but time, in itself, remains elusive. In time measures we strive for a uniform motion of something and this implies equal spaces in equal times; so we here assume just what we cannot explain, for space is as difficult to define as time. Time cannot be "squared" or used as a multiplier or divisor. Only numbers can be so used; so when we speak of "the square of the time" we mean some number which we have arbitrarily assumed to represent it. This becomes plain when we state that in calculations relating to pendulums, for example, we may use seconds and inches--minutes and feet--or seconds and meters and the answer will come out right in the units which we have assumed. Still more, numbers themselves have no meaning till they are applied to something, and here we are applying them to time, space and motion; so we are trying to explain three abstractions by a fourth! But, happily, the results of these assumptions and calculations are borne out in practical human life, and we are not compelled to settle the deep question as to whether fundamental knowledge is possible to the human mind. Those desiring a few headaches on these questions can easily get them from Kant and Spencer--but that is all they will get on these four necessary assumptions. Evidently, man began by considering the day as a unit and did not include the night in his time keeping for a long period. "And the evening and the morning were the first day" Gen. 1, 5; "Evening and morning and at noonday," Ps. LV, 17, divides the day ("sun up") in two parts. "Fourth part of a day," Neh. IX, 3, shows another advance. Then comes, "are there not twelve hours in a day," John XI, 9. The "eleventh hour," Matt. XX, 1 to 12, shows clearly that sunset was 12 o'clock. A most remarkable feature of this 12-hour day, in the New Testament, is that the writers generally speak of the third, sixth and ninth hours, Acts II, 15; III, 1; X, 9. This is extremely interesting, as it shows that the writers still thought in quarter days (Neh. IX, 3) and had not yet acquired the 12-hour conception given to them by the Romans. They thought in quarter days even when using the 12-hour numerals! Note further that references are to "hours;" so it is evident that in New Testament times they did not need smaller subdivisions. "About the third hour," shows the mental attitude. That they had no conception of our minutes, seconds and fifth seconds becomes quite plain when we notice that they jumped down from the hour to nowhere, in such expressions as "in an instant--in the twinkling of an eye." Before this, the night had been divided into three watches, Judges VII, 19. Poetry to this day uses the "hours" and the "watches" as symbols. This 12 hours of daylight gave very variable hours in latitudes some distance from the equator, being long in summer and short in winter. The amount of human ingenuity expended on time measures so as to divide the time from sunrise to sunset into 12 equal parts is almost beyond belief. In Constantinople, to-day, this is used, but in a rather imperfect manner, for the clocks are modern and run 24 hours uniformly; so the best they can do is to set them to mark twelve at sunset. This necessitates setting to the varying length of the days, so that the clocks appear to be sometimes more and sometimes less than six hours ahead of ours. A clock on the tower at the Sultan's private mosque gives the impression of being out of order and about six hours ahead, but it is running correctly to their system. Hotels often show two clocks, one of them to our twelve o'clock noon system. Evidently the Jewish method of ending a day at sunset is the same and explains the command, "let not the sun go down upon thy wrath," which we might read, do not carry your anger over to another day. I venture to say that we still need that advice. This simple line of steps in dividing the day and night is taken principally from the Bible because everyone can easily look up the passages quoted and many more, while quotations from books not in general use would not be so clear. Further, the neglect of the Bible is such a common complaint in this country that if I induce a few to look into it a little some good may result, quite apart from the matter of religious belief. Some Chinese and Japanese methods of dividing the day and night are indicated in Fig. 1. The old Japanese method divides the day into six hours and the night also into six, each hour averaging twice as long as ours. In some cases they did this by changing the rate of the clock, and in others by letting the clock run uniformly and changing the hour marks on the dial, but this will come later when we reach Japanese clocks. It is remarkable that at the present time in England the "saving daylight" agitation is virtually an attempt to go back to this discarded system. "John Bull," for a long period the time-keeper of the world with headquarters at Greenwich, and during that time the most pretentious clock-maker, now proposes to move his clocks backward and forward several times a year so as to "fool" his workmen out of their beds in the mornings! Why not commence work a few minutes earlier each fortnight while days are lengthening and the reverse when they are shortening? This reminds me of a habit which was common in Scotland,--"keeping the clock half an hour forward." In those days work commenced at six o'clock, so the husband left his house at six and after a good walk arrived at the factory at six! Don't you see that if his clock had been set right he would have found it necessary to leave at half past five? But, you say he was simply deceiving himself and acting in an unreasonable manner. Certainly, but the average man is not a reasonable being, and "John Bull" knows this and is trying to fool the average Englishman. [Illustration: Fig. 1--Interpretation of Chinese and Japanese Methods of Time Keeping] Now, as to the methods of measuring time, we must use circumstantial evidence for the pre-historic period. The rising and the going down of the sun--the lengthening shadows, etc., must come first, and we are on safe ground here, for savages still use primitive methods like setting up a stick and marking its shadow so that a party trailing behind can estimate the distance the leaders are ahead by the changed position of the shadow. Men notice their shortening and lengthening shadows to this day. When the shadow of a man shortens more and more slowly till it appears to be fixed, the observer knows it is noon, and when it shows the least observable lengthening then it is just past noon. Now, it is a remarkable fact that this crude method of determining noon is just the same as "taking the sun" to determine noon at sea. Noon is the time at which the sun reaches his highest point on any given day. At sea this is determined generally by a sextant, which simply measures the angle between the horizon and the sun. The instrument is applied a little before noon and the observer sees the sun creeping upward slower and slower till a little tremor or hesitation appears indicating that the sun has reached his height,--noon. Oh! you wish to know if the observer is likely to make a mistake? Yes, and when accurate local time is important, several officers on a large ship will take the meridian passage at the same time and average their readings, so as to reduce the "personal error." All of which is merely a greater degree of accuracy than that of the man who observes his shadow. [Illustration: Fig. 2--Portable Bronze Sundial from the Ruins of Herculaneum] The gradual development of the primitive shadow methods culminated in the modern sundial. The "dial of Ahas," Isa. XXXVIII, 8, on which the sun went back 10 "degrees" is often referred to, but in one of the revised editions of the unchangeable word the sun went back 10 "steps." This becomes extremely interesting when we find that in India there still remains an immense dial built with steps instead of hour lines. Figure 2 shows a pocket, or portable sundial taken from the ruins of Herculaneum and now in the Museo National, Naples. It is bronze, was silver plated and is in the form of a ham suspended from the hock joint. From the tail, evidently bent from its original position, which forms the gnomon, lines radiate and across these wavy lines are traced. It is about 5 in. long and 3 in. wide. Being in the corner of a glass case I was unable to get small details, but museum authorities state that names of months are engraved on it, so it would be a good guess that these wavy lines had something to do with the long and short days. In a restored flower garden, within one of the large houses in the ruins of Pompeii, may be seen a sundial of the Armillary type, presumably in its original position. I could not get close to it, as the restored garden is railed in, but it looks as if the plane of the equator and the position of the earth's axis must have been known to the maker. Both these dials were in use about the beginning of our era and were covered by the great eruption of Vesuvius in 79 A.D., which destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum. Modern sundials differ only in being more accurately made and a few "curiosity" dials added. The necessity for time during the night, as man's life became a little more complicated, necessitated the invention of time machines. The "clepsydra," or water clock, was probably the first. A French writer has dug up some old records putting it back to Hoang-ti 2679 B.C., but it appears to have been certainly in use in China in 1100 B.C., so we will be satisfied with that date. In presenting a subject to the young student it is sometimes advisable to use round numbers to give a simple comprehension and then leave him to find the overlapping of dates and methods as he advances. Keeping this in mind, the following table may be used to give an elementary hint of the three great steps in time measuring: Shadow time, 2000 to 1000 B. C. Dials and Water Clocks, 1000 B. C. to 1000 A. D. Clocks and watches, 1000 to 2000 A. D. I have pushed the gear wheel clocks and watches forward to 2000 A.D., as they may last to that time, but I have no doubt we will supersede them. At the present time science is just about ready to say that a time measurer consisting of wheels and pinions--a driving power and a regulator in the form of a pendulum or balance, is a clumsy contrivance and that we ought to do better very soon; but more on this hoped-for, fourth method when we reach the consideration of the motion on which we base all our time keeping. It is remarkable how few are aware that the simplest form of sundial is the best, and that, as a regulator of our present clocks, it is good within one or two minutes. No one need be without a "noon-mark" sundial; that is, every one may have the best of all dials. Take a post or any straight object standing "plumb," or best of all the corner of a building as in Fig. 3. In the case of the post, or tree trunk, a stone (shown in solid black) may be set in the ground; but for the building a line may often be cut across a flagstone of the footpath. Many methods may be employed to get this noon mark, which is simply a north and south line. Viewing the pole star, using a compass (if the local variation is known) or the old method of finding the time at which the shadow of a pole is shortest. But the best practical way in this day is to use a watch set to local time and make the mark at 12 o'clock. [Illustration: Fig. 3--Noon-Mark Sundials] On four days of the year the sun is right and your mark may be set at 12 on these days, but you may use an almanac and look in the column marked "mean time at noon" or "sun on meridian." For example, suppose on the bright day when you are ready to place your noon mark you read in this column 11:50, then when your watch shows 11:50 make your noon mark to the shadow and it will be right for all time to come. Owing to the fact that there are not an even number of days in a year, it follows that on any given yearly date at noon the earth is not at the same place in its elliptical orbit and the correction of this by the leap years causes the equation table to vary in periods of four years. The centennial leap years cause another variation of 400 years, etc., but these variations are less than the error in reading a dial. SUN ON NOON MARK, 1909 ------------------------------------------------------- Clock Clock Clock Date Time Date Time Date Time ------------------------------------------------------- Jan. 2 12:04 May 1 11:57 Sep. 30 11:50 " 4 12:05 " 15 11:56 Oct. 3 11:49 " 7 12:06 " 28 11:57 " 6 11:48 " 9 12:07 June 4 11:58 " 10 11:47 " 11 12:08 " 10 11:59 " 14 11:46 " 14 12:09 " 14 12:00 " 19 11:45 " 17 12:10 " 19 12:01 " 26 11:44 " 20 12:11 " 24 12:02 Nov. 17 11:45 " 23 12:12 " 29 12:03 " 22 11:46 " 28 12:13 July 4 12:04 " 25 11:47 Feb. 3 12:14 " 10 12:05 " 29 11:48 " 26 12:13 " 19 12:06 Dec. 1 11:49 Mar. 3 12:12 Aug. 11 12:05 " 4 11:50 " 8 12:11 " 16 12:04 " 6 11:51 " 11 12:10 " 21 12:03 " 9 11:52 " 15 12:09 " 25 12:02 " 11 11:53 " 18 12:08 " 28 12:01 " 13 11:54 " 22 12:07 " 31 12:00 " 15 11:55 " 25 12:06 Sep. 4 11:59 " 17 11:56 " 28 12:05 " 7 11:58 " 19 11:57 Apr. 1 12:04 " 10 11:57 " 21 11:58 " 4 12:03 " 12 11:56 " 23 11:59 " 7 12:02 " 15 11:55 " 25 12:00 " 11 12:01 " 18 11:54 " 27 12:01 " 15 12:00 " 21 11:53 " 29 12:02 " 19 11:59 " 24 11:52 " 31 12:03 " 24 11:58 " 27 11:51 ------------------------------------------------------- The above table shows the variation of the sun from "mean" or clock time, by even minutes. [Illustration: Fig. 4--12-Inch Modern Horizontal Sundial for Latitude 40°-43´] [Illustration: Fig. 5--The Earth, Showing Relation of Dial Styles to Axis] The reason that the table given here is convenient for setting clocks to mean time is that a minute is as close as a dial can be read, but if you wish for greater accuracy, then the almanac, which gives the "equation of time" to a second for each day, will be better. The reason that these noon-mark dials are better than ordinary commercial dials is that they are larger, and still further, noon is the only time that any dial is accurate to sun time. This is because the sun's rays are "refracted" in a variable manner by our atmosphere, but at noon this refraction takes place on a north and south line, and as that is our noon-mark line the dial reads correctly. So, for setting clocks, the corner of your house is far ahead of the most pretentious and expensive dial. In Fig. 4 is shown a modern horizontal dial without the usual confusing "ornamentation," and in Fig. 5 it is shown set up on the latitude of New York City for which it is calculated. This shows clearly why the edge FG of the style which casts the shadow must be parallel to the earth's axis and why a horizontal dial must be made for the latitude of the place where it is set up. Figure 6 is the same dial only the lines are laid out on a square dial plate, and it will give your young scientific readers a hint of how to set up a dial in the garden. In setting up a horizontal dial, consider only noon and set the style, or 12 o'clock line, north and south as described above for noon-mark dials. [Illustration: Fig. 6--Modern Sundial Set Up in Garden] A whole issue of Popular Mechanics could be filled on the subject of dials and even then only give a general outline. Astronomy, geography, geometry, mathematics, mechanics, as well as architecture and art, come in to make "dialing" a most charming scientific and intellectual avocation. During the night and also in cloudy weather the sundial was useless and we read that the priests of the temples and monks of more modern times "went out to observe the stars" to make a guess at the time of night. The most prominent type after the shadow devices was the "water clock" or "clepsydra," but many other methods were used, such as candles, oil lamps and in comparatively late times, the sand glass. The fundamental principle of all water clocks is the escape of water from a vessel through a small hole. It is evident that such a vessel would empty itself each time it is filled in very nearly the same time. The reverse of this has been used as shown in Fig. 7, which represents the "time-boy" of India. He sits in front of a large vessel of water and floats a bronze cup having a small hole in its bottom in this large vessel, and the leakage gradually lowers this cup till it sinks, after which he fishes it up and strikes one or more blows on it as a gong. This he continues and a rude division of time is obtained,--while he keeps awake! [Illustration: Fig. 7--"Time-Boy" of India] [Illustration: Fig. 8--"Hon-woo-et-low" or "Copper Jars Dropping Water"--Canton, China] The most interesting of all water clocks is undoubtedly the "copper jars dropping water," in Canton, China, where I saw it in 1897. Referring to the simple line sketch, which I make from memory, Fig. 8, and reading four Chinese characters downwards the translation is "Canton City." To the left and still downwards,--"Hon-woo-et-low," which is,--"Copper jars dropping water." Educated Chinamen inform me that it is over 3,000 years old and had a weather vane. As they speak of it as "the clock of the street arch" this would look quite probable; since the little open building, or tower in which it stands is higher than surrounding buildings. It is, therefore, reasonably safe to state that the Chinese had a _weather and time station_ over 1,000 years before our era. It consists of four copper jars partially built in masonry forming a stair-like structure. Commencing at the top jar each one drops into the next downward till the water reaches the solid bottom jar. In this lowest one a float, "the bamboo stick," is placed and indicates the height of the water and thus in a rude way gives the time. It is said to be set morning and evening by dipping the water from jar 4 to jar 1, so it runs 12 hours of our time. What are the uses of jars 2 and 3, since the water simply enters them and drips out again? No information could be obtained, but I venture an explanation and hope the reader can do better, as we are all of a family and there is no jealousy. When the top jar is filled for a 12-hour run it would drip out too fast during the first six hours and too slow during the second six hours, on account of the varying "head" of water. Now, the spigot of jar 2 could be set so that it would gain water during the first six hours, and lose during the second six hours and thus equalize a little by splitting the error of jar 1 in two parts. Similarly, these two errors of jar 2 could be again split by jar 3 making four small variations in lowest jar, instead of one large error in the flow of jar 1. This could be extended to a greater number of jars, another jar making eight smaller errors, etc., etc. But I am inclined to credit our ancient Chinese inventor with the sound reasoning that a human attendant, being very fallible and limited in his capacity, would have all he could properly do to adjust four jars, and that his record would average better than it would with a greater number. Remember, this man lived thousands of years before the modern mathematician who constructed a bell-shaped vessel with a small hole in the bottom, and proportioned the varying diameter in such a manner that in emptying itself the surface of the water sank equal distances in equal times. The sand glass, Fig. 9, poetically called the "hour glass," belongs to the water-clock class and the sand flows from one bulb into the other, but it gives no subdivisions of its period, so if you are using one running an hour it does not give you the half hour. The sand glass is still in use by chairmen, and when the oldest inhabitant gets on his feet, I always advise setting a 20-minute glass "on him." [Illustration: Fig. 9--Modern Sand Glass or "Hour Glass"] [Illustration: Fig. 10--"Tower of the Winds"--Athens, Greece] In the "Tower of the Winds" at Athens, Greece (Fig. 10), we have a later "weather bureau" station. It is attributed to the astronomer Andronicos, and was built about 50 B. C. It is octagonal in plan and although 27 ft. in diameter and 44 ft. high, it looks like a sentry box when seen from one of the hills of Athens. It had a bronze weather vane and in later times sundials on its eight sides, but all these are gone and the tower itself is only a dilapidated ruin. In making the drawing for this cut, from a photograph of the tower, I have sharpened the weathered and chipped corners of the stones so as to give a view nearly like the structure as originally built; but nothing is added. Under the eaves it has eight allegorical sculptures, representing wind and weather. Artists state that these sculptures are inferior as compared with Grecian art of an older period. But the most interesting part is inside, and here we find curious passages cut in solid stone, and sockets which look as if they had contained metal bearings for moving machinery. Circumstantial evidence is strong that it contained a complicated water clock which could have been kept running with tolerable accuracy by setting it daily to the dials on the outside. Probably during a few days of cloudy weather the clock would "get off quite a little," but business was not pressing in those days. Besides, the timekeeper would swear by his little water wheel, anyway, and feel safe, as there was no higher authority wearing an American watch. Some very interesting engravings of Japanese clocks and a general explanation of them, as well as a presentation of the Japanese mental attitude towards "hours" and their strange method of numbering them may be expected in the next chapter. CHAPTER II JAPANESE CLOCKS Chinese and Japanese divisions of the day. -- Hours of varying length. -- Setting clocks to length of daylight. -- Curved line dials. -- Numbering hours backwards and strange reasons for same. -- Daily names for sixty day period. -- Japanese clock movements practically Dutch. -- Japanese astronomical clock. -- Decimal numbers very old Chinese. -- Original vertical dials founded on "bamboo stick" of Chinese clepsydra. -- Mathematics and superstition. -- Mysterious disappearance of hours 1, 2, 3. -- Eastern mental attitude towards time. -- Japanese methods of striking hours and half hours. The ancient methods of dividing day and night in China and Japan become more hazy as we go backwards and the complications grow. The three circles in Fig. 1 (Chapter I) are all taken from Japanese clocks, but the interpretation has been obtained from Chinese and Japanese scholars. The Japanese obtained a great deal from the Chinese, in fact nearly everything relating to the ancient methods of time keeping and the compiling of calendars. I have not been able to find any Chinese clocks constructed of wheels and pinions, but have a number of Japanese. These have a distinct resemblance to the earlier Dutch movements, and while made in Japan, they are practically Dutch, so far as the "works" are concerned, but it is easy to see from the illustrations that they are very Japanese in style and ornamentation. The Dutch were the leaders in opening Japan to the European nations and introduced modern mathematics and clocks from about 1590 A. D. The ancient mathematics of Japan came largely from China through Corea. In Fig. 11 are given the Japanese figures beside ours, for the reader's use as a key. The complete day in Japan was divided into twice six hours; that is, six for daylight and six for night, and the clocks are set, as the days vary in length, so that six o'clock is sunrise and sunset. The hour numerals on Fig. 12 are on little plates which are movable, and are shown set for a long day and a short night. [Illustration: Fig. 11] [Illustration: Fig. 12 Fig. 13. Japanese Dials Set for Long and Short Days] In Fig. 13 they are set for short days and long nights. The narrow plates shown in solid black are the half-hour marks. In this type the hand is stationary and always points straight upward. The dial rotates, as per arrow, once in a full day. This style of dial is shown on complete clocks, Fig. 14 being a weight clock and Fig. 15 a spring clock with chain and fusee. The hours are 9 to 4 and the dials rotate to make them read backwards. The six hours of daylight are 6, 5, 4, 9, 8, 7, 6 and the same for night, so these hours average twice as long as ours. Note that nine is mid-day and mid-night, and as these do not change by long and short days they are stationary on the dial, as you can easily see by comparing Figs. 12 and 13, which are the same dial set for different seasons. Between these extremes the dial hours are set as often as the owner wishes; so if he happens to correspond with our "time crank" he will set them often and dispute with his neighbors about the time. Figure 16 shows a clock with the hour numerals on a vertical series of movable plates and it is set for uniform hours when day and night are equal at the equinox. The ornamental pointer is fastened to the weight through the vertical slit, plainly visible in illustration, and indicates the time as it descends. This clock is wound up at sunset, so the six on the top of the dial is sunset the same as the six on the bottom. Figure 17 shows how this type of dial is set for long and short days and explains itself, but will become plainer as we proceed. This dial is virtually a continuation of the old method of marking time by the downward motion of the water in the clepsydras and will be noticed later. [Illustration: Fig. 14--Japanese Striking Clock with Weight and Short Pendulum] [Illustration: Fig. 15--Japanese Striking Clock with Spring, Fusee and Balance] Figure 18 represents a clock which is a work of art and shows great refinement of design in providing for the varying lengths of days. The bar lying across the dial is fastened to the weight through the two slits running the whole length of the dial. On this cross bar is a small pointer, which is movable by the fingers, and may be set to any one of the thirteen vertical lines. The numerous characters on the top space of dial indicate the dates on which the pointer is to be set. This clock is wound up at sunset, and it is easy to see that as the little pointer is set towards the right, the night hours at the top of the dial become shorter and the day hours longer on the lower part. The left edge of the dial gives the hours, reading downwards, and as the pointer touches any one of the curved lines the hour is read at the left-hand end. The curved lines formed of dots are the half-hours. The right-hand edge of the dial has the "twelve horary characters" which will be explained later. For dividing the varying days into six hours' sunshine it would be difficult to think of a more artistic and beautiful invention than this. It is a fine example of great ingenuity and constant trouble to operate a system which is fundamentally wrong according to our method of uniform hours at all seasons. Clocks having these curved lines for the varying lengths of days--and we shall find them on circular dials as we go on--must be made for a certain latitude, since the days vary more and more as you go farther from the equator. This will become plain when you are reminded that a Japanese clock at the equator would not need any adjustment of hour numerals, because the days and nights are equal there all the year. So after such infinite pains in forming these curved lines the clock is only good in the latitude for which it was made and must not be carried north or south! Our clocks are correct from pole to pole, but all clocks must be set to local time if they are carried east or west. As this is a rather fascinating phase of the subject it might be worth pointing out that if you go north till you have the sun up for a month in the middle of summer--and there are people living as far up as that--the Japanese system would become absurd and break down; so there is no danger of any of our polar expeditions carrying Japanese clocks. [Illustration: Fig. 16--Japanese Clock with Vertical Dial, Weight and Balance.] [Illustration: Fig. 17--Japanese Vertical Dials] [Illustration: Fig. 18--Japanese Clock with Vertical Dial Having Curved Lines, Weight and Balance.] Figure 19 shows a very fine clock in which the dial is stationary and the hand moves just as on our dials. This hour hand corresponds to the single hand of the old Dutch clocks. When the Japanese reached the point of considering the application of minute and second hands to their clocks they found that these refinements would not fit their old method and they were compelled to lay aside their clocks and take ours. On this dial, Fig. 19, nine is noon, as usual, and is on top side of dial. Hand points to three quarters past _seven_, that is, a quarter to _six_, near sunset. Between the bell and the top of the clock body two horizontal balances, having small weights hung on them, are plainly shown, and the clock has two verge escapements--one connected with each balance, or "foliot." Let us suppose a long day coming to a close at sunset, just as the hand indicates. The upper balance, which is the slow one, has been swinging backwards and forwards measuring the long hours of the day. When the clock strikes six, at sunset, the top balance is thrown out of action and the lower one, which is the fast one, is thrown into action and measures the short night hours. At sunrise this is thrown out and the top one in again to measure the next day's long hours. As the days vary in length, the balances, or foliots, can be made to swing faster or slower by moving the weights inwards or outwards a notch or two. The balance with small weights for regulation is the oldest known and was used in connection with the verge escapement, just as in this clock, by the Dutch about 1364. All the evidence I can find indicates that the Japanese clocks are later than this date. In design, ornamentation and methods for marking varying days, however, the Japanese have shown great artistic taste and inventiveness. It is seen that this dial in addition to the usual six hours, twice over, has on the outside circle of dial, the "twelve horary branches" called by the Japanese the "twelve honorary branches," thus indicating the whole day of twelve Japanese hours, six of them for day and six for night. By this means they avoided repeating the same hours for day and night. When it is pointed out that these "twelve horary branches" are very old Chinese, we are not in a position to boast about our twenty-four hour system, because these branches indicate positively whether any given hour is day or night. When we print a time table in the twenty-four hour system so as to get rid of our clumsy A. M. and P. M., we are thousands of years behind the Chinese. More than that, for they got the matter right without any such pressure as our close running trains have brought to bear on us. These branches have one syllable names and the "ten celestial stems" have also one syllable names, all as shown on Fig. 20. Refer now to Fig. 21 where two disks are shown, one having the "twelve horary branches" and the other the "ten celestial stems." These disks are usually put behind the dial so that one "branch" and one "stem" can be seen at the same time through two openings. The clock moves these disks one step each night, so that a new pair shows each day. Running in this manner, step by step, you will find that it takes sixty moves, that is sixty days, to bring the same pair around again. Each has a single syllable name, as shown on Fig. 20, and we thus get sixty names of two syllables by reading them together to the left. The two openings may be seen in the dials of Figs. 15 and 19. So the Japanese know exactly what day it is in a period of sixty which they used in their old calendars. These were used by the Chinese over four thousand years ago as the names of a cycle of sixty years, called the "sexagenary." The present Chinese year 4606 is YU-KI which means the year 46 of the 76th "sexagenary." That is, 76×60+46 = 4,606. In Fig. 20, we read TSU-KIAH, or the first year. If you will make two disks like Fig. 21 and commence with TSU-KIAH and move the two together you will come to YU-KI on the 46th move. But there is another way which you might like better, thus: Write the twelve "branches," or syllables, straight downwards, continuously five times; close to the right, write the ten "stems" six times. Now you have sixty words of two syllables and the 46th, counting downwards, will be YU-KI. Besides, this method gives you the whole sixty names of the "sexagenary" at one view. Always read _left_, that is, pronounce the "stem" syllable first. [Illustration: Fig. 19--Japanese Striking Clock with Two Balances and Two Escapements; Dial Stationary, Hand Moves] Calendars constitute a most interesting and bewildering part of time measuring. We feel that we have settled the matter by determining the length of the year to within a second of time, and keeping the dates correctly to the nearest day by a leap year every fourth and every fourth century, established by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582, and known as the "Gregorian Calendar." In simple words, our "almanac" is the "Gregorian." We are in the habit of saying glibly that any year divisible by four is a leap year, but this is far from correct. Any year leaving out the _even hundreds_, which is divisible by four is a leap year. _Even hundreds_ are leap when divisible by four. This explains why 1900 was a common year, because _19 hundreds_ is not divisible by four; 2000 will be a leap because _20 hundreds_ is divisible by four; therefore 2100, 2200 and 2300 will be common years and 2400 a leap, etc., to 4000 which must be made common, to keep things straight, in spite of the fact that it is divisible by four both in its hundreds and thousands. But for practical purposes, during more than two thousand years to come, we may simplify the rule to: _Years_ and _even hundreds_ divisible by four are leaps. But great confusion still exists as a result of several countries holding to their own old methods. The present Chinese year has 384 days, 13 months and 13 full moons. Compared with our 1909 it begins on January 21st and will end on February 8, 1910. Last year the China-Japan calendar had 12 months, or moons, but as that is too short they must put in an extra every thirtieth month. We only allow the error to reach one day and correct it with our leap years, but they are not so particular and let the error grow till they require another "moon." The Old Testament is full of moons, and even with all our "modernity" our "feasts" and holy days are often "variable" on account of being mixed up with moons. In Japan the present year is the 42nd of Meiji, that is, the 42nd of the present Emperor's reign. The present is the Jewish 5669. These and others of varying lengths overlap our year in different degrees, so that in trade matters great confusion exists. The Chinese and Japanese publish a trade almanac in parallel columns with ours to avoid this. It is easy to say that we ought to have a uniform calendar all over the world, but the same remark applies just as much to money, weights, measures, and even to language itself. Finally, the difficulty consists in the facts that there are not an even number of days in a year--or in a moon--or moons in a year. "These many moons" is a survival in our daily speech of this old method of measuring by moons. Just a little hint as to the amount of superstition still connected with "new moon" will be enough to make clear the fact that we are not yet quite so "enlightened" as we say we are. While our calendar, or almanac, may be considered as final, we must remember that custom and religion are so mixed up with the matter in the older countries of the East that they will change very slowly. Strictly, our "era" is arbitrary and Christian; so we must not expect nations which had some astronomical knowledge and a working calendar, thousands of years before us, to change suddenly to our "upstart" methods. [Illustration: Fig. 20--Key to "12 Horary Branches" and "10 Celestial Stems"] [Illustration: Fig. 21--"12 Horary Branches" and "10 Celestial Stems" as Used in Clocks] [Illustration: Fig. 22--Dial of Japanese Astronomical Clock] In Fig. 22 we have the dial of a very complicated astronomical clock. This old engraved brass dial did not photograph well, so I made a copy by hand to get clean lines. Commencing at the centre, there is a small disk, B, numbered from 1 to 30, giving days of the moon's age. The moon rises at A and sets at AA, later each day, of course. Her age is shown by the number she touches on disk B, as this disk advances on the moon one number each day. Her phases are shown by the motion of a black disk over her face; so we have here three motions for the moon, so differentiated as to show _phase_, _ascension_ and _age_. Still further, as she is represented on the dial when below the horizon, it can be seen when she will rise, and "moonlight" parties may be planned. Just outside the moon's course is an annulus having Japanese numbers 1 to 12, indicating months. Note the recurring character dividing the months in halves, which means "middle," and is much used. If you will carefully read these numbers you will find a character where _one_ would come; this means "beginning" or "primary" and is often used instead of one. The clock hand is the heavy arrow and sweeps the dial once in a whole day, same direction as our clocks. This circle of the months moves along with the hand, but a little faster, so as to gain one number in a month. As shown on the figure it is about one week into the sixth month. Next outward is the broad band having twelve curved lines for the hours ending outwardly in a ring divided into 100 parts, marked off in tens by dots. These curved lines are numbered with the Japanese numerals for hours which you must now be able to read easily. These hour lines, and the dotted lines for half hours, are really the same as the similar lines on Fig. 18 which you now understand. As the hand sweeps the dial daily it automatically moves outward a little each day, so it shortens the nights and lengthens the days, just as previously explained for Fig. 18. But there is one difference, for you will notice that the last night hour, on which the arrow hand now stands, is longer than the other night hours before it, and that it is divided into _three_ by the dotted lines. The last day hour, on the left of dial, is also long and divided into _three_. That is, while all the dials previously described have equal hours for any given day, or night, this dial has a _last long hour_ in each case, divided into three instead of the usual half-hours. This is a curious and interesting point having its origin long before clocks. In the early days of the clepsydra in China, a certain time was allowed to dip up the water from the lowest jar, each morning and evening about five o'clock of our time, see Fig. 8 (Chapter 1). During this operation the clepsydra was not marking time, and the oriental mind evidently considered it in some sense outside of the regular hours, and like many other things was retained till it appeared absurdly on the earlier clocks. This wonderful feat of putting an interval between two consecutive hours has always been impossible to modern science; yet President Roosevelt performed it easily in his "constructive" interregnum! Referring to the Canton clepsydra, Fig. 8, we find that the float, or "bamboo stick," was divided into 100 parts. At one season 60 parts for the day and 40 parts for the night, gradually being changed to the opposite for short days. The day hours were beaten on a drum and the night hours blown on a trumpet. Later the hour numerals were made movable on the "bamboo stick." This is virtually a vertical dial with movable hour plates, so their idea of time measuring at that date, was of something moving up or down. This was put on the first clocks by the Japanese; so that the dial of Fig. 16 is substantially the float of the Chinese clepsydra. Further, in this "bamboo stick" of 100 parts, we have our present system of decimal numbers, so we can afford to be a little modest here too. Before leaving Fig. 22 note the band, or annulus, of stars which moves with the month circle. I cannot make these stars match our twelve signs of the Zodiac, but as I have copied them carefully the reader can try and make order out of them. The extreme outer edge of the dial is divided into 360 parts, the tens being emphasized, as in our decimal scales. As we are getting a little tired of these complicated descriptions, let us branch off for a few remarks on some curiosities of Eastern time keeping. They evidently think of an hour as a _period of time_ more specifically than we do. When we say "6 o'clock" we mean a point of time marked by the striking of the clock. We have no names for the hour periods. We must say "from 5 to 6" or "between 5 and 6" for an hour period. The "twelfth hour" of the New Testament, I understand to mean a whole hour ending at sunset; so we are dealing with an oriental attitude of mind towards time. I think we get that conception nearly correct when we read of the "middle watch" and understand it to mean _during_ the middle third of the night. Secondly, why do the Japanese use no 1, 2, 3 on their dials? These numbers were sacred in the temples and must not be profaned by use on clocks, and they mentally deducted these from the clock hours, but ultimately became accustomed to 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4. Thirdly, why this reading of the hours backwards? Let us suppose a toiler commencing at sunrise, or six. When he toiled one hour he felt that there was one less to come and he called it five. This looks quite logical, for the diminishing numbers indicated to him how much of his day's toil was to come. Another explanation which is probably the foundation of "secondly" and "thirdly" above, is the fact that mathematics and superstition were closely allied in the old days of Japan. If you take the numbers 1 to 6, Fig. 23, and multiply them each into the uncanny "yeng number," or nine, you will find that the last digits, reading downwards, give 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4. Stated in other words: When 1 to 6 are multiplied into "three times three" the last figures are 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, and _1, 2, 3, have disappeared_; so the common people were filled with fear and awe. Some of the educated, even now, are mystified by the strange results produced by using three and nine as factors, and scientific journals often give space to the matter. We know that these results are produced by the simple fact that nine is one less than the "radix" of our decimal scale of numbers. Nine is sometimes called the "indestructible number," since adding the digits of any of its powers gives an even number of nines. But in those days it was a mystery and the common people feared the mathematicians, and I have no doubt the shrewd old fellows took full advantage of their power over the plebeians. In Japan, mathematics was not cleared of this rubbish till about 700 A. D. [Illustration: Fig. 23--Use of "Yeng Number" and Animal Names of Hours] On the right-hand side of Fig. 23 are given the animal names of the hours, so the day and night hours could not be mistaken. In selecting the _rat_ for night and the _horse_ for day they showed good taste. Their forenoon was "before horse" and their afternoon "after horse." Japanese clocks are remarkable for variety. It looks as if they were always made to order and that the makers, probably urged by their patrons, made extreme efforts to get in wonderful motions and symbols relating to astronomy and astrology. Anyone examining about fifty of them would be likely to conclude that it was almost hopeless to understand them all. Remember, this is the old Japanese method. Nearly all the clocks and watches I saw in Japan were American. It will now be necessary to close this chapter with a few points on the curious striking of Japanese clocks. In those like Figs. 14, 15, 19, the bell and hammer can be seen. In the type of Fig. 16, the whole striking mechanism is in the weight. In fact, the striking part of the clock is the weight. On each of the plates, having the hour numerals, Fig. 16, a pin projects inwards and as the weight containing the striking mechanism, descends, a little lever touches these and lets off the striking just when the pointer is on the hour numeral. Keeping this in mind, it is easy to see that the clock will strike correctly when the hour is indicated by the pointer, no matter how the hour plates are set for long or short days. Similar pins project inwards from movable plates on Figs. 12, 13, 14, 15, so they strike correctly as each hour plate comes to the top just under the point of the fixed hand. In Fig. 19, the striking is let off by a star wheel just as in old Dutch clocks. Clocks like Figs. 18-22 do not strike. In all cases the hours are struck backwards, but the half-hours add another strange feature. The _odd_ numbered hours, 9, 7, 5, are followed by one blow at the half hour; and the _even_ hours, 8, 6, 4 by two blows, or stated altogether-- 9_{1} 8_{2} 7_{1} 6_{2} 5_{1} 4_{2}. Here the large figures are the hours and the small ones the half-hours. Only one bell is used, because there being no one and two among the hours, the half-hours cannot be mistaken. This is not all, for you can tell what half hour it is within two hours. For example, suppose you know approximately that it is somewhere between 9 and 7 and you hear the clock strike 2, then you know it is half past 8. See the large and small figures above. This is far superior to our method of one at each half-hour. By our method the clock strikes _one_ three times consecutively, between 12 and 2 o'clock and thus mixes up the half hours with one o'clock. Some interesting methods of striking will be explained in the third chapter when we deal with modern time keeping. CHAPTER III MODERN CLOCKS DeVick's clock of 1364. -- Original "verge" escapement. -- "Anchor" and "dead beat" escapements. -- "Remontoir" clock. -- The pendulum. -- Jeweling pallets. -- Antique clock with earliest application of pendulum. -- Turkish watches. -- Correct designs for public clock faces. -- Art work on old watches. -- Twenty-four hour watch. -- Syrian and Hebrew hour numerals. -- Correct method of striking hours and quarters. -- Design for twenty-four hour dial and hands. -- Curious clocks. -- Inventions of the old clockmakers. [Illustration: Public Dial by James Arthur Dial of Philadelphia City Hall Clock Fig. 24] Modern clocks commence with De Vick's of 1364 which is the first unquestioned clock consisting of toothed wheels and containing the fundamental features of our present clocks. References are often quoted back to about 1000 A. D., but the words translated "clocks" were used for bells and dials at that date; so we are forced to consider the De Vick clock as the first till more evidence is obtained. It has been pointed out, however, that this clock could hardly have been invented all at once; and therefore it is probable that many inventions leading up to it have been lost to history. The part of a clock which does the ticking is called the "escapement" and the oldest form known is the "verge," Fig. 25, the date of which is unknown, but safely 300 years before De Vick. The "foliot" is on the vertical verge, or spindle, which has the pallets A B. As the foliot swings horizontally, from rest to rest, we hear one tick, but it requires two of these single swings, or two ticks, to liberate one tooth of the escape wheel; so there are twice as many ticks in one turn of the escape wheel as it has teeth. We thus see that an escapement is a device in which something moves back and forth and allows the teeth of an "escape wheel" to escape. While this escapement is, in some respects, the simplest one, it has always been difficult to make it plain in a drawing, so I have made an effort to explain it by making the side of the wheel and its pallet B, which is nearest the eye, solid black, and farther side and its pallet A, shaded as in the figure. The wheel moves in the direction of the arrow, and tooth D is very near escaping from pallet B. The tooth C on the farther side of wheel is moving left, so it will fall on pallet A, to be in its turn liberated as the pallets and foliot swing back and forth. It is easy to see that each tooth of the wheel will give a little push to the pallet as it escapes, and thus keep the balance swinging. This escapement is a very poor time-keeper, but it was one of the great inventions and held the field for about 600 years, that is, from the days when it regulated bells up to the "onion" watches of our grandfathers. Scattered references in old writings make it reasonably certain that from about 1,000 to 1,300 bells were struck by machines regulated with this verge escapement, thus showing that the striking part of a clock is older than the clock itself. It seems strange to us to say that many of the earlier clocks were strikers, only, and had no dials or hands, just as if you turned the face of your clock to the wall and depended on the striking for the time. Keeping this action of the verge escapement in mind we can easily understand its application, as made by De Vick, in Fig. 26, where I have marked the same pallets A B. A tooth is just escaping from pallet B and then one on the other side of the wheel will fall on pallet A. Foliot, verge and pallets form one solid piece which is suspended by a cord, so as to enable it to swing with little friction. For the purpose of making the motions very plain I have left out the dial and framework from the drawing. The wheel marked "twelve hours," and the pinion which drives it, are both outside the frame, just under the dial, and are drawn in dash and dot. The axle of this twelve-hour wheel goes through the dial and carries the hand, which marks hours only. The winding pinion and wheel, in dotted lines, are inside the frame. Now follow the "great wheel"--"intermediate"--"escape wheel" and the two pinions, all in solid lines, and you have the "train" which is the principal part of all clocks. This clock has an escapement, wheels, pinions, dial, hand, weight, and winding square. We have only added the pendulum, a better escapement, the minute and second hands in over 500 years! The "anchor" escapement, Fig. 27, came about 1680 and is attributed to Dr. Hooke, an Englishman. It gets its name from the resemblance of the pallets to the flukes of an anchor. This anchor is connected to the pendulum and as it swings right and left, the teeth of the escape wheel are liberated, one tooth for each two swings from rest to rest, the little push on the pallets A B, as the teeth escape, keeping the pendulum going. It is astonishing how many, even among the educated, think that the pendulum drives the clock! The pendulum must always be driven by some power. [Illustration: Fig. 25--Verge Escapement] [Illustration: Fig. 26--De Vick's Clock of 1364] [Illustration: Fig. 27--Anchor Escapement] [Illustration: Fig. 28--American Anchor Escapement] This escapement will be found in nearly all the grandfather clocks in connection with a seconds pendulum. It is a good time-keeper, runs well, wears well, stands some rough handling and will keep going even when pretty well covered with dust and cobwebs; so it is used more than all the numerous types ever invented. Figure 28 gives the general American form of the "anchor" which is made by bending a strip of steel; but it is not the best form, as the acting surfaces of the pallets are straight. It is, therefore, inferior to Fig. 27 where the acting surfaces are curved, since these curves give an easier "recoil." This recoil is the slight motion _backwards_ which the escape wheel makes at each tick. The "dead beat" escapement is shown in Fig. 29, and is used in clocks of a high grade, generally with a seconds pendulum. It has no recoil as you can easily see that the surfaces O O on which the teeth fall, are portions of a circle around the center P. The beveled ends of these pallets are called the impulse surfaces, and a tooth is just giving the little push on the right-hand pallet. It is found in good railroad clocks, watch-makers' regulators and in many astronomical clocks. These terms are merely comparative, a "regulator" being a good clock and an "astronomical," an extra good one. Figure 30 gives the movement of a "remontoir" clock in which the dead beat shown is used. The upper one of the three dials indicates seconds, and the lever which crosses its center carries the large wheel on the left. [Illustration: Fig. 29--Dead Beat Escapement] [Illustration: Fig. 31--Remontoir Clock by James Arthur] [Illustration: Fig. 30--Remontoir Clock Movement] This wheel makes the left end of the lever heavier than the right, and in sinking it drives the clock for one minute, but at the sixtieth second it "remounts" by the action of the clock weight; hence the name, "remontoir." Note here that the big weight does not directly drive the clock; it only rewinds it every minute. The minutes are shown on the dial to the right and its hand jumps forward one minute at each sixtieth second as the lever remounts; so if you wish to set your watch to this clock the proper way is to set it to the even minute "on the jump." The hour hand is on the dial to the left. By this remounting, or rewinding, the clock receives the same amount of driving force each minute. The complete clock is shown in Fig. 31, the large weight which does the rewinding each minute being plainly visible. The pendulum is compensated with steel and aluminum, so that the rate of the clock may not be influenced by hot and cold weather. Was built in 1901 and is the only one I can find room for here. It is fully described in "Machinery," New York, for Nov., 1901. I have built a considerable number, all for experimental purposes, several of them much more complicated than this one, but all differing from clocks for commercial purposes. Pallets like O O in Fig. 29 are often made of jewels; in one clock I used agates and in another, running thirteen months with one winding, I used pallets jeweled with diamonds. This is done to avoid friction and wear. Those interested in the improvement of clocks are constantly striving after light action and small driving weights. Conversely, the inferior clock has a heavy weight and ticks loud. The "gravity escapement" and others giving a "free" pendulum action would require too much space here, so we must be satisfied with the few successful ones shown out of hundreds of inventions, dozens of them patented. The pendulum stands at the top as a time measurer and was known to the ancients for measuring short periods of time just as musicians now use the metronome to get regular beats. Galileo is credited with noticing its regular beats, but did not apply it to clocks, although his son made a partially successful attempt. The first mathematical investigation of the pendulum was made by Huyghens about 1670, and he is generally credited with applying it to clocks, so there is a "Huyghens" clock with a pendulum instead of the foliot of De Vick's. Mathematically, the longer and heavier the pendulum the better is the time-keeping, but nature does not permit us to carry anything to the extreme; so the difficulty of finding a tower high enough and steady enough, the cumbersomeness of weight, the elasticity of the rod, and many other difficulties render very long and heavy pendulums impracticable beyond about 13 ft. which beats once in two seconds. "Big Ben" of Westminster, London, has one of this length weighing 700 lb. and measuring, over all, 15 ft. It runs with an error under one second a week. This is surpassed only by some of the astronomical clocks which run sometimes two months within a second. This wonderful timekeeping is done with seconds pendulums of about 39 in., so the theoretical advantage of long pendulums is lost in the difficulties of constructing them. Fractions are left out of these lengths as they would only confuse the explanations. At the Naval observatory in Washington, D. C., the standard clocks have seconds pendulums, the rods of which are nickel steel, called "Invar," which is little influenced by changes of temperature. These clocks are kept in a special basement, so they stand on the solid earth. The clock room is kept at a nearly uniform temperature and each clock is in a glass cylinder exhausted to about half an atmosphere. They are electric remontoirs, so no winding is necessary and they can be kept sealed up tight in their glass cylinders. Nor is any adjustment of their pendulums necessary, or setting of the hands, as the correction of their small variations is effected by slight changes in the air pressure within the glass cylinders. When a clock runs fast they let a little air into its cylinder to raise the resistance to the pendulum and slow it down, and the reverse for slow. Don't forget that we are now considering variations of less than a second a week. The clock room has double doors, so the outer one can be shut before the inner one is opened, to avoid air currents. Visitors are not permitted to see these clocks because the less the doors are opened the better; but the Commander will sometimes issue a special permit and detail a responsible assistant to show them, so if you wish to see them you must prove to him that you have a head above your shoulders and are worthy of such a great favor. [Illustration: Fig. 32--Antique Clock, Entirely Hand-Made] [Illustration: Fig. 33--Antique Clock, Entirely Hand-Made] [Illustration: Fig. 34--Triple-Case Turkish Watches] The best thing the young student could do at this point would be to grasp the remarkable fact that the clock is not an old machine, since it covers only the comparatively short period from 1364 to the present day. Compared with the period of man's history and inventions it is of yesterday. Strictly speaking, as we use the word clock, its age from De Vick to the modern astronomical is only about 540 years. If we take the year 1660, we find that it represents the center of modern improvements in clocks, a few years before and after that date includes the pendulum, the anchor and dead beat escapements, the minute and second hands, the circular balance and the hair spring, along with minor improvements. Since the end of that period, which we may make 1700, no fundamental invention has been added to clocks and watches. This becomes impressive when we remember that the last 200 years have produced more inventions than all previous known history--but only minor improvements in clocks! The application of electricity for winding, driving, or regulating clocks is not fundamental, for the timekeeping is done by the master clock with its pendulum and wheels, just as by any grandfather's clock 200 years old. This broad survey of time measuring does not permit us to go into minute mechanical details. Those wishing to follow up the subject would require a large "horological library"--and Dr. Eliot's five-foot shelf would be altogether too short to hold the books. A good idea of the old church clocks may be obtained from Fig. 32 which is one of my valued antiques. Tradition has followed it down as the "English Blacksmith's Clock." It has the very earliest application of the pendulum. The pendulum, which I have marked by a star to enable the reader to find it, is less than 3 in. long and is hung on the verge, or pallet axle, and beats 222 per minute. This clock may be safely put at 250 years old, and contains nothing invented since that date. Wheels are cast brass and all teeth laboriously filed out by hand. Pinions are solid with the axles, or "staffs," and also filed out by hand. It is put together, generally by mortise, tenon and cotter, but it has four original screws all made by hand with the file. How did he thread the holes for these screws? Probably made a tap by hand as he made the screws. But the most remarkable feature is the fact that no lathe was used in forming any part--all staffs, pinions and pivots being filed by hand. This is simply extraordinary when it is pointed out that a little dead center lathe is the simplest machine in the world, and he could have made one in less than a day and saved himself weeks of hard labor. It is probable that he had great skill in hand work and that learning to use a lathe would have been a great and tedious effort for him. So we have a complete striking clock made by a man so poor that he had only his anvil, hammer and file. The weights are hung on cords as thick as an ordinary lead pencil and pass over pulleys having spikes set around them to prevent the cords from slipping. The weights descend 7 ft. in 12 hours, so they must be pulled up--not wound up--twice a day. The single hour hand is a work of art and is cut through like lace. Public clocks may still be seen in Europe with only one hand. Many have been puzzled by finding that old, rudely made clocks often have fine dials, but this is not remarkable when we state that art and engraving had reached a high level before the days of clocks. It is worthy of note that clocks in the early days were generally built in the form of a church tower with the bell under the dome and Figs. 32, 33 show a good example. It is highly probable that the maker of this clock had access to some old church clock--a wonderful machine in those days--and that he laboriously copied it. It strikes the hours, only, by the old "count wheel" or "locking plate" method. Between this and our modern clocks appeared a type showing quarter hours on a small dial under the hour dial. No doubt this was at that time a great advance and looked like cutting time up pretty fine. As the hand on the quarter dial made the circuit in an hour the next step was easy, by simply dividing the circle of quarters into sixty minutes. The old fellows who thought in hours must have given it up at this point, so the seconds and fifths seconds came easily. [Illustration: Fig. 35--Triple-Case Turkish Watch] [Illustration: Fig. 36--Double-Case Watch of Repoussé Work] The first watches, about 1500, had the foliot and verge escapement, and in some early attempts to govern the foliot a hog's bristle was used as a spring. By putting a ring around the ends of the foliot and adding the hair spring of Dr. Hooke, about 1640, we have the verge watches of our grandfathers. This balance wheel and hair spring stand today, but the "lever" escapement has taken the place of the verge. It is a modification of the dead beat, Fig. 29, by adding a lever to the anchor, and this lever is acted on by the balance, hence the name "lever watch." All this you can see by opening your watch, so no detailed explanation is necessary. Figure 34 shows two triple-cased Turkish watches with verge escapements, the one to the left being shown partly opened in Fig. 35. The watch with its inner case, including the glass, is shown to the right. This inner case is complete with two hinges and has a winding hole in the back. The upper case, of "chased" work, goes on next, and then the third, or outer case, covered with tortoise shell fastened with silver rivets, goes on outside the other two. When all three cases are opened and laid on the table, they look like a heap of oyster shells, but they go easily together, forming the grand and dignified watch shown to the left in Fig. 34. Oliver Cromwell wore an immense triple-case watch of this kind, and the poor plebeians who were permitted to examine such a magnificent instrument were favored! [Illustration: Fig. 37--Watches Showing Art Work] [Illustration: Fig. 38--Watch Showing Dutch Art Work] [Illustration: Fig. 39--Antique Watch Cock] [Illustration: Fig. 40--"Chinese" Watch] Our boys' watches costing one dollar keep much better time than this type of watch. Comparing the Syrian dial, Fig. 42, with that on Fig. 35, it is evident that the strange hour numerals on both are a variation of the same characters. These, so-called, "Turkish watches" were made in Europe for the Eastern trade. First-class samples of this triple-case type are getting scarce, but I have found four, two of them in Constantinople. Figure 36 shows the double-case style, called "pair cases," the outer case thin silver, the figures and ornaments being hammered and punched up from the inside and called "repoussé." Before we leave the old watches, the question of art work deserves notice, for it looks as if ornamentation and time-keeping varied inversely in those days--the more art the worse the watch. I presume, as they could not make a good time-keeper at that date, the watch-maker decided to give the buyer something of great size and style for his money. In Fig. 37 four old movements are shown, and there is no doubt about the art, since the work is purely individual and no dies or templates used. In examining a large number of these watches, I have never found the art work on any two of them alike. Note the grotesque faces in these, and in Fig. 39 which is a fine example of pierced, engraved work. Figure 38 is a fine example of pierced work with animals and flowers carved in relief. Figure 40 is a "Chinese" watch but made in Europe for the Chinese market. In Fig. 41 we have what remains of a quarter repeater with musical attachment. Each of the 24 straight gongs, commencing with the longest one, goes a little nearer the center of the large wheel, so a circle of pins is set in the wheel for each gong, or note, and there is plenty of room for several tunes which the wearer can set off at pleasure. Figure 43 is a modern watch with Hebrew hour numerals. Figure 44 is a modern 24-hour watch used on some railroads and steamship lines. I have a pretty clean-cut recollection of one event in connection with the 24-hour system, as I left Messina between 18 and 19 o'clock on the night of the earthquake! Dials and hands constitute an important branch of the subject. The general fault of hands is that they are too much alike; in many instances they are the same, excepting that the minute hand is a little longer than the hour. The dial shown on the left of Fig. 24 was designed by me for a public clock and can be read twice as far away as the usual dial. Just why we should make the worst dials and hands for public clocks in the United States is more than I can find out, for there is no possible excuse, since the "spade and pointer" hands have been known for generations. Figure 45 is offered as a properly designed dial for watches and domestic clocks, having flat-faced Gothic figures of moderate height, leaving a clear center in the dial, and the heavy "spade" hour hand reaching only to the inner edges of the figures. For public clocks the Arabic numerals are the worst, for at a distance they look like twelve thumb marks on the dial; while the flat-faced Roman remain distinct as twelve clear marks. [Illustration: Fig. 41--Musical Watch, Repeating Hours and Quarters] Do you know that you do not read a public clock by the figures, but by the position of the hands? This was discovered long ago. Lord Grimthorp had one with twelve solid marks on the dial and also speaks of one at the Athenæum Club, both before 1860. The Philadelphia City Hall clock has dials of this kind as shown on right side of Fig. 24. It has also good hands and can be read at a great distance. Very few persons, even in Philadelphia, know that it has no hour numerals on its dials. Still further, there is no clock in the tower, the great hands being moved every minute by air pressure which is regulated by a master clock set in a clock room down below where the walls are 10 ft. thick. Call and see this clock and you will find that the City Hall officials sustain the good name of Philadelphia for politeness. Generally, we give no attention to the hour numerals, even of our watches, as the following proves. When you have taken out your watch and looked at the time, for yourself, and put it back in your pocket, and when a friend asks the time you take it out again to find the time for him! Why? Because, for yourself, you did not read hours and minutes, but only got a mental impression from the position of the hands; so we only read hours and minutes when we are called on to proclaim the time. [Illustration: Fig. 42--Syrian Dial] We must find a little space for striking clocks. The simplest is one blow at each hour just to draw attention to the clock. Striking the hours and also one blow at each half hour as well as the quarter double blow, called "ting tong" quarters, are too well known to need description. The next stage after this is "chiming quarters" with three or more musical gongs, or bells. One of the best strikers I have has three trains, three weights and four bells. It strikes the hour on a large bell and two minutes after the hour it strikes it again, so as to give you another chance to count correctly. At the first quarter it repeats the last hour followed by a musical chord of three bells, which we will call _one triple blow_: at the second quarter the hour again and two triple blows and at the third quarter, the hour again and three triple blows. Suppose a sample hour's striking from four o'clock, this is what you hear, and there can be no mistake. "Four" and in two minutes "four"--"four and one quarter"--"four and two quarters"--"four and three quarters," and the same for all other hours. This is definite, for the clock proclaims the hour, or the hour and so much past. It can be set silent, but that only stops it from striking automatically, and whether so set or not, it will repeat by pulling a cord. You awake in the night and pull the cord, and then in mellow musical tones, almost as if the clock were speaking, you hear--"four and two quarters." This I consider a perfect striking clock. It is a large movement of fine workmanship and was made in the department of the Jura, France. When a clock or watch only repeats, I consider the old "five-minute repeater" the best. I used this method in a clock which, on pulling the cord, strikes the hour on a large bell and if that is all it strikes, then it is less than five minutes past. If more than five minutes past it follows the hour by one blow on a small bell for every five minutes. This gives the time within five minutes. It is fully described and illustrated in "Machinery," New York, for March, 1905. Just one more. An old Dutch clock which I restored strikes the hour on a large bell; at the first quarter it strikes one blow on a small bell; at the half hour it strikes the last hour over again on the small bell; at the third quarter it strikes one blow on the large bell. But this in spite of its great ingenuity, only gives definite information at the hour and half hour. [Illustration: Fig. 43--Hebrew Numerals] [Illustration: Fig. 44--24-Hour Watch] Of curious clocks there is no end, so I shall just refer to one invented by William Congreve, an Englishman, over one hundred years ago, and often coming up since as something new. A plate about 8 in. long and 4 in. wide has a long zigzag groove crosswise. This plate is pivoted at its center so either end can be tipped up a little. A ball smaller than a boy's marble will roll back and forth across this plate till it reaches the lower end, at which point it strikes a click and the mainspring of the clock tips the plate the other way and the ball comes slowly back again till it strikes the disk at the other end of the plate, etc. Every time the plate tips, the hands are moved a little just like the remontoir clock already described. Clocks of this kind are often used for deceptive purposes and those ignorant of mechanics are deceived into the belief that they see perpetual motion. The extent to which modern machine builders are indebted to the inventions of the ancient clock-maker, I think, has never been appreciated. [Illustration: Fig. 45--Domestic Dial by James Arthur] In its earlier stages the clock was almost the only machine containing toothed gearing, and the "clock tooth" is still necessary in our delicate machines. It is entirely different from our standard gear tooth as used in heavy machines. The clock-makers led for a long time in working steel for tools, springs and wearing surfaces. They also made investigations in friction, bearings, oils, etc., etc. Any one restoring old clocks for amusement and pleasure will be astonished at the high-class mechanics displayed in them--nearly always by unknown inventors. Here is an example: The old clock-maker found that when he wished to drill a hole in a piece of thick wire so as to make a short tube of it, he could only get the hole central and straight by rotating the piece and holding the drill stationary. By this method the drill tends to follow the center line of rotation; and our great guns as well as our small rifles are bored just that way to get bores which will shoot straight. The fourth and last chapter will deal with the astronomical motions on which our time-keeping is founded, our present hour zones of time, and close with suggestions for a universal time system over the whole world. CHAPTER IV ASTRONOMICAL FOUNDATION OF TIME Astronomical motions on which our time is founded. -- Reasons for selecting the sidereal day as a basis for our 24-hour day. -- Year of the seasons shorter than the zodiacal year. -- Precession of the equinoxes. -- Earth's rotation most uniform motion known to us. -- Time Stars and Transits. -- Local time. -- The date line. -- Standard time. -- Beginning and ending of a day. -- Proposed universal time. -- Clock dial for universal time and its application to business. -- Next great improvement in clocks and watches indicated. -- Automatic recording of the earth's rotation. -- Year of the seasons as a unit for astronomers. -- General conclusions. The mystery of time encloses all things in its folds, and our grasp of its infinite bearings is measured by our limitations. As there are no isolated facts in the Universe, we can never get to the end of our subject; so we know only what we have capacity to absorb. In considering the foundation on which all our time measuring is based, we are led into the fringe of that Elysian field of science--astronomy. A science more poetical than poetry--more charming than the optimistic phantasies of youth. That science which leaves our imagination helpless; for its facts are more wonderful than our extremest mental flights. The science of vastness and interminable distances which our puny figures fail to express. "The stars sang together for joy," might almost be placed in the category of facts; while the music of the spheres may now be considered a mathematical reality. Our time keeping is inevitably associated with these motions, and we must select one which has periods not too long. That is, no _continuous_ motion could be used, unless it passed some species of milestones which we could observe. Consequently, our clocks do not--in the strict sense--measure time; but are adjusted to _divide_ periods which they do not determine. We are constantly correcting their errors and never entirely succeed in getting them to run accurately to _periods of time_ which exist entirely outside of such little things as men and clocks. So a clock is better as it approximates or bears a regular _relation_ to some motion in nature. The sidereal clock of the astronomer _does_ run to a regular motion; but our 24-hour clocks _do not_, as we shall see later. Now consider the year, or the sun's apparent motion in the Zodiac, from any given star around to the same one again. This is altogether too long to be divided by clocks, as we cannot make a clock which could be depended on for anywhere near a year. The next shorter period is that of a "moon." This is also a little too long, is not easily observed, and requires all sorts of corrections. Observations of the moon at sea are so difficult and subject to error that mariners use them only as a last resort. If a little freedom of language is permissible, I would say that the moon has a bad character all around, largely on account of her long association with superstition, false theology and heathen feasts. She has not purged herself even to this day! The ancients were probably right when they called erratic and ill-balanced persons "luny." Now we come to the day and find that it is about the right practical length--but what kind of a day? As there are five kinds we ought to be able to select one good enough. They are:-- 1st. The solar day, or noon to noon by the sun. 2nd. An imaginary sun moving uniformly in the ecliptic. 3rd. A second imaginary sun moving uniformly parallel to the equator at all seasons of the year. 4th. One absolute rotation of the earth. 5th. One rotation of the earth measured from the node, or point, of the spring equinox. The difference between 1st and 2nd is that part of the sun's error due to the elliptical orbit of the earth. The other part of the sun's error--and the larger--between 2nd and 3rd is that due to the obliquity of the ecliptic to the equator. The whole error between 1st and 3rd is the "equation of time" as shown for even minutes in the first chapter under the heading, "Sun on Noon Mark 1909." Stated simply, for our present purpose, 1st is sundial time, and 3rd our 24-hour clock time. This 2nd day is therefore a refinement of the astronomers to separate the two principal causes of the sun's error, and I think we ought to handle it cautiously, or my friend, Professor Todd, might rap us over the knuckles for being presumptuous. This 5th day is the sidereal day of the astronomers and is the basis of our time, so it is entitled to a little attention. I shall confine "sidereal day" to this 5th to avoid confusion with 4th. If you will extend the plane of the equator into the star sphere, you have the celestial equator. When the center of the sun passes through this plane on his journey north, in the Spring, we say, "the sun has crossed the line." This is a distant point in the Zodiac which can be determined for any given year by reference to the fixed stars. To avoid technicalities as much as possible we will call it the point of the Spring equinox. This is really the point which determines the common year, or year of the seasons. Using popular language, the seasons are marked by four points,--Spring equinox--longest day--; Autumnal equinox--shortest day. This would be very simple if the equinoctial points would stay in the same places in the star sphere; but we find that they creep westward each year to the extent of 50 seconds of arc in the great celestial circle of the Zodiac. This is called the precession of the equinoxes. The year is measured from Spring equinox to Spring equinox again; but each year it comes 50 seconds of arc less than a full revolution of the earth around the sun. Therefore _if we measured our year by a full revolution_ we would displace the months with reference to the seasons till the hot weather would come in January and the cold weather in July in about 13,000 years; or a complete revolution of the seasons back to where we are, in 26,000 years. Leaving out fractions to make the illustration plain, we have:-- (1) 360 degrees of Zodiac } --------------------- = 26,000 years } 50 seconds of arc } } (2) 1 day of time } ------------- = 26,000 years } 3-1/3 seconds } All } Approximate (3) 1 year of time } -------------- = 26,000 years } 20-1/3 minutes } } (4) 3-1/3 seconds } ------------- = 1/110 of a second} days in a year } In (1) we see that a "precession" of 50 seconds of arc will bring the Spring equinox around in 26,000 years. In (2) we see, as 50 seconds of arc represents the distance the earth will rotate in 3-1/3 seconds, a difference of one day will result in 26,000 years. That is since the clock regulated by the stars, or absolute rotations of the earth, would get behind 3-1/3 seconds per year, it would be behind a day in 26,000 years, as compared with a sidereal clock regulated by the Spring equinoctial point. In (3) we see that as 50 seconds of arc is traversed by the earth, in its annual revolution, in 20-1/3 minutes, a complete circle of the Zodiac will be made in 26,000 years. In (4) we see that as the difference between the year of the seasons and the Zodiacal year is 3-1/3 seconds of the earth's rotation, it follows that if this is divided by the number of days in a year we have the amount which a sidereal day is less than 4th, or an absolute rotation of the earth. That is, any meridian passes the Spring equinoctial point 1/110 of a second sooner than the time of one absolute rotation. These four equations are all founded on the precession of the equinoxes, and are simply different methods of stating it. Absolutely and finally, our time is regulated by the earth's rotation; but strange as it may appear, we do not take one rotation as a unit. As shown above, we take a rotation to a _movable point_ which creeps the 1/110 of a second daily. But after all, it is the _uniform_ rotation which governs. This is the one "dependable" motion which has not been found variable, and is the most easily observed. When we remember that the earth is not far from being as heavy as a ball of iron, and that its surface velocity at the equator is about 17 miles per minute, it is easy to form a conception of its uniform motion. Against this, however, we may place the friction of the tides, forcing up of mountain ranges, as well as mining and building skyscrapers--all tending to slow it. Mathematicians moving in the ethereal regions of astronomy lead us to conclude that it _must_ become gradually slower, and that _it is_ slowing; but the amount may be considered a vanishing quantity even compared with the smallest errors of our finest clocks; so for uncounted generations past--and to come--we may consider the earth's rotation uniform. Having now found a uniform motion easily observed and of convenient period, why not adopt it as our time unit? The answer has been partially given above in the fact that we are compelled to use a year, measured from the Spring equinoctial point, so as to keep our seasons in order; and therefore as we must have some point where the sidereal clocks and the meantime clocks coincide, we take the same point, and that point is the Spring equinox. Now we have three days:-- 1st. A sidereal day 1/110 of a second less than one rotation of the earth. 2nd. One rotation of the earth in 23 hours, 56 minutes and 4 seconds, nearly, of clock time. 3rd. One mean time clock day of 24 hours, which has been explained previously. Now, isn't it remarkable that our 24-hour day is purely artificial, and that nothing in nature corresponds to it? Our real day of 24 hours is a _theoretical_ day. Still more remarkable, this theoretical day is the unit by which we express motions in the solar system. A lunar month is days--hours--minutes--and seconds of this theoretical day, and so for planetary motions. And still more remarkable, the earth's rotation which is _itself_ the foundation is expressed in this imaginary time! This looks like involution involved, yet our 24-hour day is as real as reality; and the man has not yet spoken who can tell whether a mathematical conception, sustained in practical life, is less real than a physical fact. Our legal day of practical life is therefore deduced from the day of a fraction _less_ than one earth rotation. In practice, however, the small difference between this and a rotation is often ignored, because as the tenth of a second is about as near as observations can be made it is evident that for single observations 1/110 of a second does not count, but for a whole year it does, and amounts to 3-1/3 seconds. Now as to the setting of our clocks. While the time measured by the point of the Spring equinox is what we must find it is found by noting the transits of fixed stars, because _the relation_ of star time to equinoctial time is known and tabulated. Remember we cannot take a transit of the equinoctial point, because there is nothing to see, and that _nothing_ is moving! But it can be observed yearly and astronomers can tell where it is, at any time of the year, by calculation. The stars which are preferred for observation are called "time stars" and are selected as near the celestial equator as possible. The earth's axis has a little wabbling motion called "nutation" which influences the _apparent_ motion of the stars near the pole; but this motion almost disappears as they come near the equator, because nutation gives the plane of the equator only a little "swashplate" motion. The positions of a number of "time stars" with reference to the equinoctial point, are known, and these are observed and the observations averaged. The distance of any time star from the equinoctial point, _in time_, is called its "right ascension." Astronomers claim an accuracy to the twentieth part of a second when such transits are carefully taken, but over a long period, greater exactness is obtained. Really, the time at which any given star passes the meridian is taken, _in practical life_, from astronomical tables in the Nautical Almanacs. Those tables are the result of the labors of generations of mathematicians, are constantly subject to correction, and cannot be made simple. Remember, the Earth's rotation is the only uniform motion, all the others being subject to variations and even compound variations. This very subject is the best example of the broad fact that science is a constant series of approximations; therefore, nothing is exact, and nothing is permanent but change. But you say that mathematics is an exact science. Yes, but it is a _logical abstraction_, and is therefore only the universal solvent in physical science. With our imaginary--but real--time unit of 24 hours we are now ready to consider "local time." Keeping the above explanation in mind, we may use the usual language and speak of the earth rotating in 24 hours clock time; and since motion is relative, it is permissible to speak of the motion of the sun. In the matter of the sun's apparent motion we are compelled to speak of his "rising," "setting," etc., because language to express the motion in terms of the earth's rotation has not been invented yet. For these reasons we will assume that in Fig. 47 the sun is moving as per large arrow and also that the annulus, half black and half white, giving the 24 hours, is fastened to the sun by a rigid bar, as shown, and moves around the earth along with him. In such illustrations the sun must always be made small in proportion, but this rather tends to plainness. For simplicity, we assume that the illustration represents an equinox when the sun is on the celestial equator. Imagine your eye in the center of the sun's face at A, and you would be looking on the meridian of Greenwich at 12 noon; then in one hour you would be looking on 15° west at 12 noon; but this would bring 13 o'clock to Greenwich. Continue till you look down on New York at 12 noon, then it is 17 o'clock at Greenwich (leaving out fractions for simplicity) etc. If you will make a simple drawing like Fig. 47 and cut the earth separate, just around the inside of the annulus, and stick a pin at the North Pole for a center, you may rotate the earth as per small arrow and get the actual motion, but the result will be just the same as if you went by the big arrow. We thus see that every instant of the 24 hours is represented, at some point, on the earth. That is, the earth has an infinity of local times; so it has every conceivable instant of the 24 hours at some place on the circle. Suppose we set up 1,410 clocks at uniform distances on the equator, then they would be about 17 miles apart and differ by minutes. Now make it 86,400 clocks, they would be 1,500 feet apart and differ by seconds. With 864,000 clocks they would be 150 feet apart and vary by tenths of seconds. It is useless to extend this, since you could always imagine more clocks in the circle; thus establishing the fact that there are an infinity of times at an infinity of places always on the earth. It is necessary to ask a little patience here as I shall use this local time and its failure later in our talk. Strictly, local time has never been used, because it has been found impracticable in the affairs of life. This will be plain when we draw attention to the uniform time of London, which is Greenwich time; yet the British Museum is 30 seconds slow of Greenwich, and other places in London even more. This is railroad time for Great Britain; but it is 20 minutes too fast for the west of England. This led to no end of confusion and clocks were often seen with two minute hands, one to local and the other to railroad time. This mixed up method was followed by "standard time," with which we are all pretty well acquainted. Simply, standard time consists in a uniform time for each 15° of longitude, but this is theoretical to the extreme, and is not even approached in practice. The first zone commences at Greenwich and as that is near the eastern edge of the British Islands, their single zone time is fast at nearly all places, especially the west coast of Ireland. When we follow these zones over to the United States we find an attempt to make the middle of each zone correct to local time, so at the hour jumping points, we pass from half an hour slow to half an hour fast, or the reverse. We thus see that towns about the middle of these four United States zones have sunrise and sunset and their local day correct, but those at the eastern and western edges average half an hour wrong. As a consequence of this disturbance of the working hours depending on the light of the day, many places keep two sets of clocks and great confusion results. Even this is comprehensible; but it is a mere fraction of the trouble and complication, because the hour zones are not separated by meridians in practice, but by zig-zag lines of great irregularity. Look at a time map of the United States and you will see the zones divided by lines of the wildest irregularity. Now question one of the brightest "scientific chaps" you can find in one of the great railroad offices whose lines touch, or enter, Canada and Mexico. Please do not tell me what he said to you! So great is the confusion that no man understands it all. The amount of wealth destroyed in printing time tables, _and failing to explain them_, is immense. The amount of human life destroyed by premature death, as a result of wear and tear of brain cells is too sad to contemplate. And all by attempting the impossible; for local time, _even if it was reduced to hourly periods_ is not compatible with any continental system of time and matters can only get worse while the attempt continues. For the present, banish this zone system from your mind and let us consider the beginning and ending of a day, using strictly local time. [Illustration: Fig. 47--Local Time--Standard Time--Beginning and Ending of the Day] A civil, or legal, day ends at the instant of 24 o'clock, midnight, and the next day commences. The time is continuous, the last instant of a day touching the first instant of the next. This is true for all parts of the earth; but something _in addition_ to this happens at a certain meridian called the "date line." Refer again to Fig. 47 which is drawn with 24 meridians representing hours. As we are taking Greenwich for our time, the meridians are numbered from 0°, on which the observatory of Greenwich stands. When you visit Greenwich you can have the pleasure of putting your foot on "the first meridian," as it is cut plainly across the pavement. Degrees of longitude are numbered east and west, meeting just opposite at 180°, which is the "date line." Our day begins at this line, so far as _dates_ are concerned; but the _local day_ begins everywhere at midnight. Let us start to go around the world from the date line, westward. When we arrive at 90° we are one quarter around and it takes the sun 6 hours longer to reach us. At 0° (Greenwich) we are half around and 12 hours ahead of the sun motion. At 90° west, three quarters, or 18 hours, and when back to 180° we have _added_ to the length of all days of our journey enough to make one day; therefore our date must be one day behind. Try this example to change the wording:--Let us start from an island B, just west of the date line. These islanders have their 24-hour days, commencing at midnight, like all other places. As we move westward our day commences later and later than theirs, as shown above. Suppose we arrive at the eastern edge of the 180° line on Saturday at 12 o'clock, but before we cross it we call over to the islanders,--what day is it? We would get answer, "Sunday;" because all our days have been longer, totalling one day in the circuit of the globe. So if we step over the line at 12 o clock Saturday, presto, it is 12 o'clock Sunday. It looks like throwing out 24 hours, but this is not so, since we have lived exactly the same number of hours and seconds as the islanders. In this supposition we have all the _dates_, however, but have jumped half of Saturday and half of Sunday, which equals one day. In practice this would not have been the method, for if the ship was to call at the island, the captain would have changed date on Friday night and thrown Saturday out, all in one piece, and would have arrived on their Sunday; so his log for that week would have contained only 6 days. It is not necessary to go over the same ground for a circuit of the globe eastward, but if you do so you will find that you _shorten_ your days and on arriving at the date line would have a day too much; so in this case you would _double_ a date and have 8 days in that week. In both cases this is caused by compounding your motion with that of the sun; going with him westward and lengthening your days, or eastward meeting him and shortening them. Figure 47 shows Greenwich noon, we will say on Monday, and at that instant, Monday only, exists from 0 to 24 o'clock on the earth; but the next instant, Tuesday begins at 180° B. In one hour it is noon of Monday at 15° West, and midnight at 165° East; so Tuesday is one hour old and there is left 23 hours of Monday. Monday steadily declines to 0 as Tuesday steadily grows to 24 hours; so that, except at the instant of Greenwich noon, there are always two days on the world at once. If we said that there are _always_ two days on the world at once, we could not be contradicted; since there is no conceivable time between Monday and Tuesday; it is an instantaneous change. As we cannot conceive of _no time_, the statement that there is only one day on the earth at Greenwich noon is not strictly permissible. Since there are always two days on the world at once let us suppose that these two are December 31st and January 1st; then we have _two years_ on the world at once for a period of 24 hours. Nine years ago we had the 19th and 20th centuries on the world at once, etc. As a mental exercise, you may carry this as far as you please. Suppose there was an impassable sea wall built on the 180° meridian, then there would be two days on the world, just as explained above; but, _practically_, there would be no date line, since in sailing west to this wall we would "lengthen our days," and then shorten them the same amount coming around east to the other side of the wall, but would never jump or double a date. This explanation is founded, as it ought to be, on uniform local time, and is the simplest I can give. The date line is fundamentally simple, but is difficult to explain. When it is complicated by the standard time--or jumping hour system--and also with the fact that some islands count their dates from the wrong side of the line for their longitudes, scientific paradoxes arise, such as having three dates on the world at once, etc.; but as these things are of no more value than wasting time solving Chinese puzzles, they are left out. Ships change date on the nearest night to the date line; but if they are to call at some island port in the Pacific, they may change either sooner or later to correspond with its date. Here is a little Irish date line wit printed for the first time,--I was telling my bright friend about turning in on Saturday night and getting up for breakfast on Monday morning. "Oh," said he, "I have known gentlemen to do as good as that without leaving New York City!" As what is to follow relates to the growing difficulties of local time and a proposed method of overcoming them, let us recapitulate:-- 1st. Local time has never been kept, and the difficulties of using it have increased as man advanced, reaching a climax of absurdity on the advent of the railroad; so it broke down and became impractical. 2nd. To make the irregular disorder of local time an orderly confusion, the "standard time"--jumping by hours--has helped a little, but only because we can tell how much it is wrong at any given place. This is its only advantage over the first method, where we had no means of knowing what to expect on entering any new territory. That is, we have improved things by throwing out local time to the extent of an hour. My proposal is to throw local time out _totally_ and establish one, invariable, _universal time_. Greenwich time being most in use now, and meridians numbered from it, may be taken in preference to any other. Still another reason is that the most important timekeepers in modern life--ship's chronometers--are set to Greenwich time. Universal time--no local time--only local day and night. Our 24-hour system is all right, so do not disturb it, as it gets rid of A.M. and P.M. and makes the day our unit of time. Our railroad time now throws out local time to the extent of one hour; but I propose to throw it out entirely and never change the clock hands from Greenwich time. The chronometers do that now, so let us conduct all business to that time. Now refer to Fig. 46, in which Greenwich is taken as universal time. The annulus, half white and half black, indicates the average day and night, and is a separate ring in the dial which can be set so that "noon" is on the meridian of the place, as shown for four places in the illustration. It is the same dial in all four cases set to local day and night. Strictly, the local time conception is dropped and the local day left for regulating working and sleeping time. All business would have the same time. In traveling east we would not have the short hours; or west, the long hours. All clocks and watches would show the same time as ship's chronometers do now. The only change would be the names of the hours for the parts of the local day. This is just the difficulty, for we are so accustomed to _associate_ a certain number, as seven, with the morning and breakfast time. Suppose breakfast time in London is 7 o'clock, then according to the local day it would be 12 o'clock breakfast time in New York; but in both cases it would be the same time with reference to the _local daylight_. Let it be distinctly understood that our association of _12 o'clock_ with _noon_ is not necessary. The Japanese called it "horse" and "nine"--the ancient Romans, the New Testament writers, and the Turks called it the "sixth hour"--the astronomers now call it 24 o'clock, and the Chinese represent it by several characters; but, in all cases, it is simply the middle of the day at any place. By the proposed universal time, morning, noon, and evening would be--_at any given place_--the same hours. There would be no necessity of establishing legal noon with exactness to the meridian, because that would only regulate labor, meals, etc., and would not touch universal time. This is an important part of the proposal and is worth elaborating a little. Sections in manufacturing districts could make their working hours correspond at pleasure and no confusion would result. That is, local working hours to convenience but by the same universal time. Note how perfectly this would work in traveling,--you arrive in Chicago from the effete east and your watch corresponds all along with the railroad clocks. As you leave the station you glance up at the clock and see that Chicago noon is 17.30, so you set the day and night ring of your watch to match the same ring on the clock, but no disturbance of the hands. As you register at the hotel you ask,--dinner? and get answer, 24.30--then breakfast, 12.30. These questions are necessary now, so I do not add complication here. When you arrive in a strange city you must ask about meals, business hours, theater hours, "doors open" hours, etc., etc.; so all this remains the same. Let us put the matter forcibly,--while we count days, or _dates_, _something_ must vary with east and west; I propose the fixing of hours for business and sleep to suit each locality, but an invariable time. Get rid of the idea that a certain number, as 7 o'clock, represents the age of the day _at all places_. See how this would wipe out the silly proposal to "save daylight" by setting the clock back and forward. Suppose workmen commenced at 12.30 in New York; for the long summer days make it 11.30, but no change in universal time. As this is the only difference from our present time system, keep the central conception, firmly,--universal time--local day and night. [Illustration: Fig. 46--Universal Time Dial Set for Four Places] Suppose Chicago decided that "early to bed and early to rise" was desirable; then it could establish its legal noon as 17.30, which would be about 20 minutes early for its meridian. You could do business with Chicago for a lifetime and not find this out, unless you looked up the meridian of Chicago and found that it was 17.50 o'clock. None of the railroads or steamship lines of the city would need to know this, except as a matter of scientific curiosity, for the time tables would all be printed in universal time. For hiring labor, receiving and delivering goods, etc., they would only need to know Chicago _business hours_. To state the matter in different words,--Chicago would only need to decide what portion of the universal 24 hours would suit it best for its day and which for its night, and if it decided, as supposed above, to place its working day forward a little to give some daylight after labor, nothing would be disturbed and only the scientific would ever know. Certainly, "save daylight," but do not make a fool of the clock! Having shown the great liberty which localities could take without touching the working of the system, the same remarks apply to ultra-scientific localities. A city might establish its noon to the instant; so it is possible--even if a little improbable--that the brilliant and scientific aldermen of New York might appoint a commission with proper campfollowers and instrument bearers to determine the longitude of the city to the Nth of a second and tell us where we "are at." The glory of this achievement--and especially its total cost--would be all our own and incorruptible time would be untouched! We thus see that great local freedom and great accuracy are alike possible. With our present system, accuracy in local time is impracticable and has never even been attempted, and is confusion confused since we added the railroad hour jumps. Why did we nurse this confusion till it has become almost intolerable? Because man has always been a slave to _mental associations, and habits_. Primitive man divided the local day into parts and gave them names and this mental attitude sticks to us after it has served its day. The advantages of universal time could hardly be enumerated, yet we can have them all by dropping our childish association of 7 o'clock with breakfast time! Another example,--you visit a friend for a few days and on retiring the first night you ask "what is your breakfast hour"--"8 o'clock." You have to ask this question and recollect the answer. Now tell me what difference it would make if the answer had been 13 o'clock? None whatever, unless, perhaps, that is, you do not like thirteen! You ask, how about ships? Ships now carry universal time and only change the clock on deck to please the simple minded passengers. How about the date line? No change whatever, so long as we use _dates_ which means numbering local days. It is useless multiplying examples; all difficulties disappear, as if by magic, the moment we can free our minds of local time and the association of the _same hour_ with the _same portion_ of the day at _all places_. The great interest at present manifested in the attempts to reach the North Pole calls for some consideration of universal time in the extreme north. Commencing at the equator, it is easy to see that the day and night ring, Fig. 46, would represent the days and nights of 12 hours at all seasons. As we go north, however, this ring represents the _average_ day and night. When we reach the Polar Circle, still going north, the _daily_ rising and setting of the sun gradually ceases till we reach the great one-year day at the Pole, consisting of six months darkness and six months light. Let us now assume that an astronomical observatory is established here and the great equatorial placed precisely on the pole. At this point, _local time_, _day and night_, and _the date line_, almost cease to have a meaning. For this very reason universal time would be the only practical method; therefore, it _more_ than stands the test of being carried to the extreme. Universal time would regulate working and sleeping here the same as at all other places. Strictly local time in this observatory would be an absurdity, because in walking around the telescope (pole) you would be in all instants of the 24 hours within five seconds! At the pole the day would commence at the same instant as at some assumed place, and the day and night ring would represent working and sleeping as at that place. Suppose this observatory to be in telegraphic communication with New York, then it would be best for the attendants to set their day and night to New York, so as to correspond with its business hours. Many curious suppositions might be made about this polar observatory with its "great night" and equally "great day." It is evident that to keep count of itself it would be compelled to note _dates_ and 24-hour _days_ to keep in touch with us; so it would be forced to adopt the local day of some place like New York. This choice would be free, because a polar observatory would stand on all the meridians of the earth at once. We are now in a position to consider the next possible--and even probable--improvement in our clocks and watches. To minimize the next step it might be well to see what we can do now. Clocks are often regulated by electric impulses over wires. Electricians inform me that they can do this by wireless; but that owing to the rapid attenuation of the impulses it cannot be done commercially, over great distances. In the history of invention the first step was _to do something_ and then find a way of doing it cheaply enough for general use. So far as I know, the watch in the wearer's pocket has not yet been regulated by wireless; but I am willing to risk the statement that the editor of Popular Mechanics can name more than one electrician who can do this. A watch to take these impulses might be larger than our present watches, but it would not stay larger and would ultimately become much smaller. You know what has happened since the days of the big "onions" described in the third chapter. Fig. 34; so get your electric watch and make it smaller at your leisure. We have made many things commercially practicable, which looked more revolutionary than this. Now throw out the mainspring, wheels, pinions, etc., of our watches and reduce the machinery part to little more than dial and hands and do the driving by wireless, say, once every minute. I feel certain that I am restraining the scientific imagination in saying that the man lives among us who can do this. I repeat, that we now possess the elementary knowledge--which if collated and applied--would produce such a watch. Now I have a big question to ask--the central note of interrogation in this little scientific conversation with you,--does the man live who can make the earth automatically record its rotation? Do not be alarmed, for I am prepared to make a guess as to this possibility. A _direct_ mechanical record of the earth's rotation seems hopeless, but let us see what can be done. You are aware that some of the fixed stars have a distinct spectrum. It is not unreasonable to suppose that an instrument could be made to record the passage of such a star over the meridian. Ah, but you say, there is no mechanical force in this. Do not hurry, for we have long been acquainted with the fact that things which, apparently, have no force can be made to liberate something which manifests mechanical force. We could now start or stop the greatest steam engine by a gleam of sunlight, and some day we might be able to do as much by the lately discovered pressure of light. That is, we can now liberate the greatest forces by the most infinitesimal, by steps; the little force liberating one greater than itself, and that one another still greater. A good example is the stopping of an electric train, from a distance, by wireless. The standard clock in Philadelphia, previously referred to, is a delicate instrument and its most delicate part, having the least force, moves a little valve every minute, and by several steps liberates the air pressure, 200 feet higher in the tower, to move the four sets of great hands. I am not traveling beyond the record when I say that the invisible actinic rays could be used to liberate a great force; therefore what is there unreasonable in the supposition that the displacement of the sodium line in the spectrum of a star might be made to record the earth's rotation? So I say to the electrician--the optician--the photographer--the chemist and the mechanic.--get together and produce this watch. Permit me, with conventional and intentional modesty, to name the new timepiece _Chroncosmic_. For pocket use, it would be _Cosmic watch_. In the first chapter I allowed to the year 2,000 for the production of this watch, but it is likely we will not need to wait so long. Having stated my proposal for universal time as fully as space will permit and given my guess as to the coming cosmic watch, let us in this closing paragraph indulge in a little mental exercise. Suppose we copy the old time lecturer on astronomy and "allow our minds to penetrate into space." Blessed be his memory, he was a doer of good. How impressive as he repeatedly dropped his wooden pointer, and lo! It always moved straight to the floor; thus triumphantly vindicating universal gravitation!!! We can think of a time system which would discard months, weeks and days. What is the meaning of the financial almanac in which the days are numbered from 1 to 365 or 366? Simply a step in the right direction, _away from the months and weeks_, so that the distance between any two dates may be seen at a glance. We would really be better without months and weeks. Now let us consider the year of the seasons as a unit--long since proposed by the astronomers--and divide it into 3,000 chrons. Clocks regulated by star transits, as at present, would divide this decimally, the fourth place being near enough to make the new pendulums of convenient length. This would throw out months, weeks and days, local time and the date line. Each of these chrons would represent the same time in the year, permanently. For example, 464.6731 would mark to a _dixmilliemechron_ (a little more than one second) the point reached in the year; while the date does not, as I have shown in the first chapter. But you still object that this is a great number of figures to use in fixing a point in the year. Let us see what it takes to fix a point in the year now, _August 24th, 11-16-32 P. M., New York standard time_. A pretty long story, but it does not fix the point of the year even then; for it would require the assistance of an astronomer to fix such a point in _any given_ year, say 1909. But 464.6731 would be eternally right in _absolute time_ of the seasons, and has only one meaning, with no qualifications for any year whatever. I believe the astronomers should use a method something like this. Ah, but there is a difficulty in applying this to the affairs of daily life which looks insurmountable. This is caused by the fact that the _day_ and _year_ are incommeasurable. One of them cannot be exactly expressed in terms of the other. They are like the diagonal and side of a square. The day is now the unit and therefore the year has an interminable fraction; conversely, if we make the year the unit, then the day becomes an endless fraction. This brings us face to face with the local day which we ignored in our scientific year unit. We _must_ regulate our labors, in this world, to day and night and, with the year unit, the chrons would bear no fixed relation to day and night, even for two days in succession. So the year unit and absolute time must be left to the astronomers; but the _day unit_ and the uniform world day of _universal time_ as explained in connection with Fig. 46 I offer as a practical system. I am satisfied that all attempts to measure the year and the day by the same _time yard stick_ must fail and keep us in our present confusion. Therefore separate them once for all time. Brought down to its lowest terms my final proposal is:-- 1st. An equinoctial year unit for the astronomers, divided somewhat as suggested, but no attempt to make the divisions even approximate to days and hours. This would fix all astronomical events, absolutely. A variation in the length of the year would not disturb this system, since the year _itself_ would be the unit. In translating this astronomical, or year unit time, into clock time, no difficulties would be added, as compared with our present translation of sidereal time into clock time. Deal with the _year unit_ and _day unit_ separately and convert them mutually when necessary. 2nd. A universal mean time day of 24 hours, as now kept at Greenwich, all human business being regulated by this time. Dates and the date line as well as leap years all being retained as at present. 3rd. Weight and spring clocks and watches to be superseded by the cosmic clocks and watches regulated by wireless impulses from central time stations, all impulses giving the same invariable time for all places. 4th. Automatic recording of the earth's rotations to determine this time. To avoid any possibility of misunderstanding, I would advise never counting a unit till it is completed. We do this correctly with our hours, as we understand 24 o'clock to be the same as 0 o'clock. But we do not carry this out logically, for we say 24.30. How can this be so, since there is nothing more than 24 o'clock? It ought to be simply 30 minutes, or 0 hour 30 minutes. How can there be any _hour_ when a new day is only 30 minutes old? This brings up the acrimonious controversy, of some years ago, as to whether there was any "year one." One side insisted that till one year was completed there could only be months and days. The other side argued that the "year one" commenced at 0 and that the month and date showed how much of it had passed. Test yourself,--is this the year 1909, of which only 8 months have passed; or is it 1909 and 8 months more? Regarding the centuries there appears to be no difference of opinion that 1900 is completed, and that we are in the 20th century. But can you tell whether we are 8 years and 8 months into the 20th century or 9 years and 8 months? It ought to be, logically 1909 years _complete_ and 8 months of the next year, which we must not count till it is completed. Take a carpenter's rule, we say 1/4 in.--1/2 in.--3/4 in., but do not count an inch till we complete it. When the ancients are quoted,--"about the middle of the third hour" there is no mistake, because that means 2-1/2 hours since sunrise. If we said the 1909th year that would be definite too, and mean some distance into that year. Popular language states that Greenwich is on the "first meridian"; strictly, it is on the zero meridian, or 0°. These matters are largely academic and I do not look on them as serious subjects of discussion; but they are good thought producers. Bidding you good-bye, for the present, it might be permissible to state that this conversational article on Time was intended to be readable and somewhat instructive; but especially to indicate the infinity of the subject, that thought and investigation might be encouraged. * * * * * * Transcriber's note: Original spelling and grammar have mostly been retained. However, on page 31, "clepsydral" was changed to "clepsydra". Figures were moved from within paragraphs to between paragraphs. In addition, some figures were originally out of numerical sequence; they are now in sequence. 
45772	----	BOOKS FOR COLLECTORS _With Frontispieces and many Illustrations_ _Large Crown 8vo, cloth._ CHATS ON ENGLISH CHINA. By ARTHUR HAYDEN. CHATS ON OLD FURNITURE. By ARTHUR HAYDEN. CHATS ON OLD PRINTS. (How to collect and value Old Engravings.) By ARTHUR HAYDEN. CHATS ON COSTUME. By G. WOOLLISCROFT RHEAD. CHATS ON OLD LACE AND NEEDLEWORK. By E. L. LOWES. CHATS ON ORIENTAL CHINA. By J. F. BLACKER. CHATS ON OLD MINIATURES. By J. J. FOSTER, F.S.A. CHATS ON ENGLISH EARTHENWARE. (Companion volume to "Chats on English China.") By ARTHUR HAYDEN. CHATS ON AUTOGRAPHS. By A. M. BROADLEY. CHATS ON PEWTER. By H. J. L. J. MASSÉ, M.A. CHATS ON POSTAGE STAMPS. By FRED. J. MELVILLE. CHATS ON OLD JEWELLERY AND TRINKETS By MACIVER PERCIVAL. CHATS ON COTTAGE AND FARMHOUSE FURNITURE. (Companion volume to "Chats on Old Furniture.") By ARTHUR HAYDEN. CHATS ON OLD COINS. By FRED. W. BURGESS. CHATS ON OLD COPPER AND BRASS. By FRED. W. BURGESS. CHATS ON HOUSEHOLD CURIOS. By FRED. W. BURGESS. CHATS ON OLD SILVER. By ARTHUR HAYDEN. CHATS ON JAPANESE PRINTS. By ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE. CHATS ON MILITARY CURIOS. By STANLEY C. JOHNSON. CHATS ON OLD CLOCKS AND WATCHES. By ARTHUR HAYDEN. LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN, LTD., NEW YORK: F. A. STOKES COMPANY. [Illustration] CHATS ON OLD CLOCKS BY ARTHUR HAYDEN AUTHOR OF "CHATS ON COTTAGE AND FARMHOUSE FURNITURE," "CHATS ON OLD PRINTS," ETC. WITH A FRONTISPIECE AND 80 ILLUSTRATIONS LONDON T. FISHER UNWIN LTD. ADELPHI TERRACE _First published in 1917_ (_All rights reserved_) DEDICATION TIME, you laggard, take my little book, And point to those who have a curious mind That record herein they may hidden find Of Huygens' wordy war with Dr. Hooke: Of David Ramsay's search for secret hoard: Of Thomas Chamberlaine de Chelmisforde. Many a maker left his graven name,-- That by your leave stands yet on dial plate,-- With legend _Fecit_, of uncertain date, Proud with the hope that time would bring him fame. Death stopped the wheels of maker and machine: TIME! will you not their memory keep green? TIME, take my tribute to your flying feet; Paper will shortly crumble into dust. You guard the guerdon free from moth and rust, Your even finger sifts the chaff from wheat; Hold me from hurt, I worship at your shrine With every pulse-beat,--Father, make me thine. A.H. PREFACE A preface should be personal. An author who writes on such subjects as Old Furniture and Old China, with a view to educating public taste and attempting to show why certain objects should be regarded more lovingly than others, meets with a volume of correspondence from collectors. Threaded through such correspondence, extended over a long period, I find the constant demand for a volume dealing with old clocks in a popular manner. There is no house without its clock or clocks, and few collectors of old furniture have excluded clocks from their hobby. I have been therefore blamed that I did not include some more detailed treatment of clocks in my volumes on "Old Furniture" and "Cottage and Farmhouse Furniture," my readers very justly advancing the argument that clocks form part of the study of domestic furniture as a whole. This may be admitted. But in the endeavour to satisfy such a want on the part of my clients, I plead that the subject of clockmaking is one to which years of study must be devoted. Since the first appearance of my _Chats on Old Furniture_ in 1905, I have not been unmindful of the co-related subject of old clocks. Over ten years of study, running parallel with my other work on the evolution of ornament and decoration of the English home, has enabled me to gather a mass of material and to attempt to satisfy the request for a complementary volume to my _Chats on Old Furniture_ and _Chats on Cottage and Farmhouse Furniture_. To this end I have embodied in this present volume many facts relating to provincial styles as well as Scottish and Irish types, with lists of local makers not before published. To the critics to whom I have hitherto been indebted for realizing the niche I desire to fill with my volumes, I preface this volume by stating that as far as possible the technicalities of clockmaking have been eliminated. The average reader and the average collector would be bored by such details, although some of us might like to see them included. I have not referred to foreign clockmaking, nor to famous church and turret clocks, nor to marvels of horology; I have advisedly limited my field to the English domestic clock. That such a treatment would appeal more to the collector is my personal opinion, and I trust my critics may incline to my view. The illustrations in the volume have been chosen to illustrate the letterpress and to illuminate points I endeavour to make in regard to the evolution of the various types coming under my observation. I have to express my indebtedness to the authorities of the British Museum for permission to include illustrations of examples in that collection, and I am similarly indebted to the authorities of the National Museum, Dublin. By the courtesy of the Corporation of Nottingham I am reproducing a clock in their collection, and similarly by the courtesy of the Bristol Corporation I am including an example in their possession. The Corporation of Glasgow have afforded me permission to include a remarkable example of Scottish work, and the authorities of the Metropolitan Museum, New York, have accorded me a similar privilege in illustrating specimens in their collection. Among those who have generously augmented my researches and come to my aid in regard to local makers, I desire to express my obligation to George H. Hewitt, Esq., J.P., of Liverpool, who arranged the clocks in the exhibit at the Liverpool Tercentenary Exhibition in 1907, and to E. Rimbault Dibdin, Esq., of the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool. To Basil Anderton, Esq., of the Public Libraries, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and to T. Leo Reid, Esq., of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I am especially grateful for solid help in regard to North Country makers. To H. Tapley-Soper, Esq., City Librarian, Exeter, I am indebted for names of West-Country makers, and to A. Bromley Sanders, Esq., of Exeter, I am obliged for information relating to local clocks coming under his purview for many years. James Davies, Esq., of Chester, and S. H. Hamer, Esq., of Halifax, have enlarged my horizon in regard to local makers. H. Wingent, Esq., of Rochester, an enthusiastic collector and connoisseur of old clocks, has kindly enabled me to reproduce one of his examples. To Herbert Bolton, Esq., of the Bristol Museum and Art Gallery, I am indebted for the inclusion of a fine specimen in that collection. I desire especially to record the generous aid I have had from Percy Webster, Esq., of Great Portland Street, London, who is well known as a connoisseur of old clocks, and from his son, Malcolm R. Webster, Esq., who have given me practical assistance in regard to verifying facts from actual examples. To Thomas Rennie, Esq., of the Glasgow Art Galleries and Museums, I desire to record thanks. To Edward Campbell, Esq., of Glasgow, who has enriched my volume with examples of Scottish work in his collection, I am indebted for information regarding Scottish makers embodied in this volume. I am, by the kindness of John Smith, Esq., of Edinburgh, author of _Old Scottish Clockmakers_, and of his publisher, William J. Hay, Esq., John Knox's House, Edinburgh, enabled to produce names and dates of certain Scottish makers not recorded elsewhere. In this connection my friend William R. Miller, Esq., of Leith, has spared no time to help me to do justice to Scottish makers, and I am especially grateful to him for his kindly enthusiasm. He was there at the "chap o' the knok" when I asked his help. Westropp Dudley, Esq., of the National Museum, Dublin, has extended to me his courtesy in enabling the inclusion of Irish makers coming under his research. To Arthur Deane, Esq., of the Public Art Gallery and Museum, Belfast, I am similarly obliged for data relative to old Belfast clockmakers. To the many friends who have during an extended period generously supplemented my own studies by supplying me with data in regard to provincial makers and other hitherto unelucidated matters, I wish to offer my cordial thanks. To my readers in general, whether they be collectors of old English china or earthenware, of furniture, or of prints, or of old silver, I desire to record my appreciation of their kindness in regard to my volumes on these subjects. I have honestly endeavoured to treat each sub-head concerning the evolution of design in the English home with sane reasoning, and I trust with ripe judgment. I have assiduously collected facts and studiously attempted to marshal them, each by each, according to relative value. Popular my volumes may be, but it is my hope that they may contribute something of permanent value to the subjects with which they deal. ARTHUR HAYDEN. CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE 11 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 21 CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY NOTE 27 Time and its measurement--Day and night--Early mechanism--The domestic clock--The personal clock--Rapid phases of invention--The dawn of science--The great English masters of clockmaking--The several branches of a great art--What to value and what to collect--Hints for beginners CHAPTER II THE BRASS LANTERN CLOCK 45 The domestic clock--Its use as a bracket or wall clock--Seventeenth-century types--Continuance of manufacture in provinces--Their appeal to the collector CHAPTER III THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE PERIOD OF VENEER AND MARQUETRY 67 What is veneer?--What is marquetry?--The use of veneer and marquetry on long-case clocks--No common origin of design--_Le style réfugié_--Derivative nature of marquetry clock-cases--The wall-paper period--The incongruities of marquetry CHAPTER IV THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE PERIOD OF LACQUER 105 What is lac?--Its early introduction into this country--"The Chinese taste"--Colour _versus_ form--Peculiarities of the lacquered clock-case--The English school--English amateur imitators--Painted furniture not lacquered work--The inn clock CHAPTER V THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE GEORGIAN PERIOD 131 The stability of the "grandfather" clock--The burr-walnut period--Thomas Chippendale--The mahogany period--Innovations of form--The Sheraton style--Marquetry again employed in decoration CHAPTER VI THE EVOLUTION OF THE LONG-CASE CLOCK 153 Its inception--Its Dutch origin--The changing forms of the hood, the waist, and the base--The dial and its character--The ornamentation of the spandrel--The evolution of the hands CHAPTER VII THE BRACKET CLOCK 179 The term "bracket clock" a misnomer--The great series of English table or mantel clocks--The evolution of styles--Their competition with French elaboration CHAPTER VIII PROVINCIAL CLOCKS 211 Their character--Names of clockmakers found on clocks in the provinces--The North of England: Newcastle-upon-Tyne--Yorkshire clockmakers: Halifax and the district--Liverpool and the district--The Midlands--The Home Counties--The West Country--Miscellaneous makers CHAPTER IX SCOTTISH AND IRISH CLOCKS 255 David Ramsay, Clockmaker Extraordinary to James I--Some early "knokmakers"--List of eighteenth-century Scottish makers--Character of Scottish clocks--Irish clockmakers: Dublin, Belfast, Cork--List of Irish clockmakers CHAPTER X A FEW NOTES ON WATCHES 281 The age of Elizabeth--Early Stuart watches--Cromwellian period--Watches of the Restoration--The William and Mary watch--Eighteenth-century watches--Pinchbeck and the toy period--Battersea enamel and shagreen INDEX 295 ILLUSTRATIONS BRASS LANTERN CLOCK BY JOHN BUSHMAN, 1680 _Frontispiece_ CHAPTER II.--THE BRASS LANTERN CLOCK PAGE Ship's Lantern of Silver (Danish) 47 Early Lantern Clock by Bartholomew Newsam 47 Seventeenth-century Brass Clocks, showing pendulum at front and at back 51 Brass Lantern Clock by Daniel Quare, 1660 55 " " " with two hands and anchor pendulum 55 " " " with long pendulum, chains and weights 57 " " " by Thomas Tompion (1671-1713) 61 CHAPTER III.--THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE PERIOD OF VENEER AND MARQUETRY Long-case Clock. Maker, Jas. Leicester 75 " " " by J. Windmills, _c._ 1705 77 " " " enlargement of dial 77 " " " by Henry Harper (1690-5) 81 " " " by Martin (London), 1710 85 " " " in marquetry, "all over" style 87 Chest of Drawers (William and Mary period), showing use of marquetry clock panel 93-5 CHAPTER IV.--THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE PERIOD OF LACQUER Long-case Clock by Joseph Dudds (1766-82) 115 " " " by Kenneth Maclennan (1760-80) 117 Inn Clock by John Grant (Fleet Street), _c._ 1785 125 <sc>Chapter V.--The Long-case Clock--the Georgian Period</sc> Long-case Clock by Henderson, _c._ 1770 133 " " " by Thomas Wagstaff, _c._ 1780 137 " " " by Stephen Rimbault, case by Robert Adam, _c._ 1775 139 Musical Long-case Clock (top portion) 143 Long-case Clock by James Hatton (1800-12) 145 Regulator Long-case Clock by Robert Molyneux & Sons (1825) 149 Enlargement of dial 149 CHAPTER VI.--THE EVOLUTION OF THE LONG-CASE CLOCK Brass Dial by Henry Massy, _c._ 1680 159 " " by John Draper, _c._ 1703 159 Enlargements of Dials by John Bushman and Henry Massy 163 English Wood-carving, Cherub's Head (seventeenth century) 167 Brass Spandrel from Clock, Henry Massy (1680) 167 Stretcher of William and Mary Chair (detail) 171 Brass Spandrel of Dial of Clock 171 CHAPTER VII.--THE BRACKET CLOCK Bracket Clocks by:-- Sam Watson (Coventry), 1687. Joseph Knibb (Oxon), 1690 181 Thomas Loomes (London), 1700. Thomas Johnson (London), 1730 183 John Page (Ipswich), 1740. Godfrey Poy (London), 1745 187 Johnson (London), 1760. Thomas Hill (London), 1760 189 American Clock by Savin & Dyer (Boston), 1780-1800 193 Staffordshire Copper Lustre Ware Vase, with painted Clock Dial 195 Bracket Clocks by:-- Alexander Cumming (London), 1770. Anonymous, 1800 199 Barraud (London), 1805. Strowbridge (Dawlish) 201 Biddell (London), 1800. Anonymous (1800-15) 205 Ebony Table Clock, decorated with Wedgwood Medallions 207 CHAPTER VIII.--PROVINCIAL CLOCKS Copper Token, Leeds Halfpenny, 1793 218 Long-case Clock by Gilbert Chippindale (Halifax) 219 " " " enlargement of hood 219 " " " by John Weatherilt (Liverpool) (1780-85) 221 " " " by Thurston Lassell (Liverpool), 1745 225 " " " by Henry Higginbotham (Macclesfield) 227 " " " by Heywood (Northwich), 1790 231 " " " by Thomas Wall (Birmingham), _c._ 1795 233 Copper Token, Joseph Knibb, Clockmaker in Oxon 236 Long-case Clock by Joseph Knibb (Oxon), _c._ 1690 237 " " " Georgian, Spanish mahogany, by Cockey (Warminster) 239 Brass Dial of Welsh Clock by Shenkyn Shon (Pontnedd Fechan), 1714 243 Iron Dial of Sussex Clock by Beeching (Ashburnham) 243 Long-case Clock, with oval dial, by Marston (Salop), 1761 245 Dials of Clocks by Marston (Salop) and Thomas Wall (Birmingham) 249 CHAPTER IX.--SCOTTISH AND IRISH CLOCKS Brass Lantern Clock by Humphry Mills (Edinburgh), 1670 259 " " " do. showing movement 259 Long-case Clock by Patrick Gordon (Edinburgh), 1705-15 263 Dial of Long Pendulum Clock by Jos. Gibson (Ecclefechan), _c._ 1750 267 " " " " enlargement, showing maker's name 267 Wall Clock, decorated in marquetry, by George Graydon (Dublin), _c._ 1796 269 Musical Clock by George Aicken (Cork), 1770-95 273 Regulator Clock, mahogany case, by Sharp (Dublin) 275 CHAPTER X.--A FEW NOTES ON WATCHES Old English Watches (Elizabethan, James I, Cromwellian, and Charles II) 283 " " (eighteenth-century examples) 287 Calendar Watch (seventeenth century) by Thomas Chamberlaine de Chelmisforde 291 CHAPTER I INTRODUCTORY NOTE Time and its measurement--Day and night--Early mechanism--The domestic clock--The personal clock--Rapid phases of invention--The dawn of science--The great English masters of clockmaking--The several branches of a great art--What to value and what to collect--Hints for beginners. The dictionary definition of "clock" is interesting. _Clock._--A machine for measuring time, marking the time by the position of its hands upon the dial-plate, or by the striking of a hammer on a bell. Probably from old French or from Low Latin, _cloca_, _clocca_, a bell. Dutch, _klok_. German, _glocke_, a bell. This is exact as far as it goes, but the thought seizes one, how did it come about that man attempted to measure time? He saw the sunrise and he watched the fading sunset till "Hesperus with the host of heaven came," and the night melted again into the dawn. Nature marked definitely the hours of light and hours of darkness. That was a law over which he had no control. Similarly he watched the seasons--the spring, the summer, the autumn, and the winter; this gave him the annual calendar. It becomes a matter of curious speculation how it came to pass that man divided the year into twelve months, and how he came to give a name to each day, and to determine seven as forming a week. Similarly one is curiously puzzled as to why he divided day and night into twenty-four parts, calling them hours. These speculations lead us farther afield than the scope of this volume. An examination of Babylonian and Greek measurements of time is too abstruse to be included in a volume of this nature. Nor is it necessary, however interesting such may be, to record the astronomical observations at Bagdad of Ahmed ibn Abdullah. We must commence with the known data that the earth revolves on its axis in twenty-four hours, or, to be more exact, in 23 hours 56 minutes 4 seconds. Astronomical clocks recording with scientific exactitude this phenomenon are on a plane apart, as are chronometers used by mariners. The astronomer uses a clock with numbers on its dial plate up to twenty-four; the common clock has only twelve hour numerals. To come straight to modernity, it must be recognized that the measurement of time scientifically and the measurement of time according to civil law are two different things. The mean Solar day used in the ordinary reckoning of time, by most modern nations, begins at midnight. Its hours are numbered in two series from 1 to 12--the first series, called A.M. (_ante meridian_), before midday, and the second series, P.M. (_post meridian_), after midday. This is a clumsy arrangement and leads to confusion. The leading railways of the world are beginning to use the series of twenty-four. Let it be granted that the day consists of twenty-four hours, which is the apparent Solar day; the starting-point was not always the same. The Babylonians began their day at sunrise, the Athenians and Jews at sunset, the ancient Egyptians and Romans at midnight. In passing, it should be noted that the day is measured astronomically by recording the period of the revolution of the earth on its axis, determined by the interval of time between two successive transits of the sun, the moon, or a fixed star over the same meridian. The Solar day is exactly 24 hours, the Lunar day is 24 hours 50 minutes, and the Sidereal day is 23 hours 56 minutes. Apparent Solar Time is shown by the sundial, and therefore depends upon the motion of the sun. Mean Solar Time is shown by a correct clock. The difference between Mean Time and Apparent Time, that is, between the time shown by the clock and the sundial, is called the Equation of Time, and in the _Nautical Almanack_, a Government publication, there are tables showing these differences. =Day and Night.=--Obviously the hours of darkness offered a greater problem to the horologist than the hours of light. His sundial was of no use at night and of little use on cloudy days. The hour-glass was not a piece of mechanism a man would wish to employ to record the night watches. Some other self-acting mechanism had to be devised. The interval between sunset and sunset, or sunrise and sunrise, or noon and noon, was divided by the Babylonians, who had a love for the duodenary system, into twenty-four hours. It is curious to read that "until the eighteenth century in England the hour was commonly reckoned as the twelfth part of the time between sunrise and sunset, or between sunset and sunrise, and hence was of varying durations" (_Webster's New International Dictionary_, 1914). The hour was further divided, also by the Babylonians, into periods of sixty minutes. It was the Babylonians who first divided the circle into 360 degrees, and Ptolemy followed this division. The dial of a clock was at first termed the _hour-plate_, as only hours were engraved upon it and only one hand was employed. Later, another hand was added, the minute hand, which travelled a complete circuit while the hour hand was travelling between two hour numerals. Later, again, a new sub-dial was added, and a seconds hand recorded the sixty seconds which made the minute. The term "second" was at first called "second-minute," denoting that it was the second division of an hour by sixty. The learned John Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, that extraordinary old savant, writes in 1650: "Four flames of an equal magnitude will be kept alive the space of sixteen _second-minutes_, though one of these flames alone, in the same vessel, will not last at most above twenty-five or thirty seconds." These dry facts may serve to whet the curiosity of the student in regard to the measurement of time and its origin. They add a piquancy to the clock dial as we now know it. Scientific it is, as one of man's most exact recorders of natural phenomena. That an exact timekeeper should be found in the pocket of every schoolboy would seem an astounding miracle to our ancestors two hundred years ago, or even less than a hundred years ago: 'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own, writes Pope in his _Essay on Criticism_ in 1725. This is a damning indictment of the accuracy of watches in the early eighteenth century, but Dickens in _Dombey and Son_ suggests equally faulty mechanism not in true accord with the mean solar day: "Wal'r ... a parting gift, my lad. Put it back half an hour every morning, and about another quarter towards the arternoon, and it's a watch that'll do you credit." That the civil day has taken precedence of the solar day is shown by the recent legislation in regard to Summer Time. "The Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath," may be applied to the clock dial. By an Act of Parliament, in spite of science and the earth's revolution on its axis, the hands straightway mean something else. It is well that modern clocks have no wise saws and mottoes telling of the unalterable hand of Time; "Old Time, the clock-setter, that bald sexton, Time," as Shakespeare says in _King John_. =Early Mechanism.=--The problem for the old clockmakers who wished to supplant the primitive measurement of time by candle, by the hour-glass, and later by the sundial, was to produce a piece of mechanism which would in twenty-four hours, the prescribed period of day and night, indicate the flight of time hour by hour. In rapid survey we cannot pause to enter into details. The first clocks indicated the hour alone by a hand attached to the axis of a wheel. In the twelfth century a new mechanism was added to strike a bell with a hammer, showing the hours indicated by the hand. At first the motive power was a weight acting upon toothed wheels. In the fifteenth century a spiral spring placed in a barrel replaced the weight attached to a string as the motive power. This led to portable clocks of smaller dimensions being possible. The sixteenth century is remarkable for the great advance by Italian, by Nuremberg, and by Augsburg clockmakers. Striking and alarum clocks, and intricate mechanism showing phases of the moon, the year, the day of the month, and the festivals of the Church, were produced. In the sixteenth century portable clocks received further attention in regard to minute mechanism, resulting in what we now know as the watch. The moment this point was reached, ornamentation of a rich and elaborate character was applied to such objects of art, then only in the possession of princes and nobles and the richest classes of society. In the middle of the seventeenth century Huygens, the celebrated Dutch astronomer and mathematician, brought great modification in the art of clockmaking by applying the pendulum to clocks in order to regulate the movement, "and adapting, some years later, to the balance of watches a spring, which produced upon this balance the same effect as that of the weight upon the pendulum" (Labarte, _Arts of the Middle Ages_). In old clocks there is a verge escapement with a cross-bar balanced by weights. This was in the top portion of the clock. When the pendulum was introduced it was first placed in front of the clock and swung backwards and forwards across the face of the dial, being only some six inches in length, and more frequently it is found at the back of the clock, outside the case. See illustration (p. 51) of examples. As it was easy safely to convert the old form of balance into pendulum form, with hanging weight or weights, this was frequently done. So frequently, in fact, that very few of the old balance movements remain. See illustration (p. 57) of lantern clock with weights and pendulum. With the advent of the "royal" or long pendulum, the domestic clock came into being. We now arrive at the first period of the English domestic clock, and from this point a fairly definite record of styles and changes can be made. =The Domestic Clock.=--This may be said to be the clock in use in a great house, apart from the cathedral or church clock, the turret clock, or the more public clock common to the gaze of everybody. The nobility employed, on the Continent and in this country, great clockmakers to produce these new scientific timekeepers for use in their private apartments. But there came another phase when the clock visible to the dependent was supplanted by more delicate mechanism of greater value and of richer ornamentation. =The Personal Clock.=--This was the watch. It was carried on the person. It was the gift of a lover to his mistress. It was a rich and rare jewel of scientific construction, set in crystal, embellished with enamel and other rich decoration. In a measure it supplanted the clock and drove it on to a lower plane. It demanded craftsmanship of the highest character to create these masterpieces of horology, and the art has been continued in a separate stream to that of clockmaking up to the present day. The watch is not the small clock, nor is the clock the large watch. Whatever may have been their common origin, each has developed on lines essentially proper for the technique. As the clock has developed in mechanical perfection, so the watch has similarly kept in parallel progress towards the same ideal, that of the perfect timekeeper. A long succession of mechanical inventions is attached to the clock, and similarly the watch has demanded equal genius till both arrive at modernity. =The Dawn of Science.=--The mid-seventeenth century the post-Bacon period, when Newton became President of the Royal Society, may be said to be the dawn of science in this country. The Aristotelian method of analysis and the practical experiment set men's minds into scientific channels. The scientific clockmaker was the product of this period of restless activity. Science was in leading-strings. Prince Rupert's Drops, so familiar now, were a scientific wonder. Bishop Wilkins and Evelyn, Locke and Dr. Harvey, were all, from different points, attempting to unravel the secrets of nature. The Tudor Age had opened the New World; the next century was left to discover the untravelled paths of science and mechanism. Invention was being suckled by Curiosity. Invention only came to manhood in the nineteenth century. =The Great English Masters of Clockmaking.=--There is the mythical claim for Richard Harris, who is said to have invented the first pendulum clock in Europe, fixed in the turret of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, in 1640 or earlier. The Huygens pendulum was hung by a silken cord, and the arc described by the bob or weight at its end was a segment of a circle. Dr. Hooke invented the thin, flexible steel support of the pendulum, producing more scientific accuracy. In 1658 he invented the _anchor escapement_, which, together with his spring to the pendulum, is still used, although the "dead-beat" escapement invented by George Graham has supplanted the "anchor" in timekeepers requiring greater exactitude. In regard to Robert Hooke and his claim to being the inventor of the balance spring for watches, an invention claimed by Christopher Huygens de Zulichem, there is an acrimonious dispute and lengthy correspondence thereon. The Royal Society had published in their _Philosophical Transactions_ for March 25th, 1675, the discovery of Huygens, who visited England in 1661 and was made a Fellow of the Royal Society. Dr. Hooke protested. It appears that one of the "ballance double watches" was presented to Charles II and was inscribed "Robert Hooke _inven._ 1658. T. Tompion _fecit_ 1675." There is the record that George Graham declared that he "had heard Tompion say he was employed three months that year by Mr. Hooke in making some parts of these watches before he let him know for what use they were designed, and that Tompion was used to say he thought the first invention of them was owing to Mr. Hooke."[1] To come to the great masters of the art of English clockmaking. In the transactions of the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers it is recorded that "in July 1704 it was by the Master reported that certain persons at Amsterdam are in the habit of putting the names of Tompion, Windmills, Quare, Cabrier, Lamb, and other well-known makers on their works and selling them as English."[2] A committee was appointed to put an end to such abuses. [1] _Life of Robert Hooke_, by R. Waller, 1705. _Biographica Britannica._ [2] _Some Account of the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers of the City of London_, by Samuel Elliott Atkins and Henry Overall, F.S.A., 1881 (_British Museum Library_, 10349 _gg._ 11). Here then we have five of the leading English clockmakers in 1704, to which we can add George Graham, the inventor of the "orrery," named after his patron, Robert Boyle, Earl of Cork and Orrery, and to make the number up to twenty-five we add the following. These men are in the first flight. Ahasuerus Fromanteel (and the family of Fromanteel, of Dutch origin), the first to introduce the pendulum into England; Edward East; Joseph Knibb, father and son; William Dutton, Matthew and Thomas Dutton, John Ebsworth, John Harrison, J. Grant, Stephen Rimbault, Thomas Earnshaw, John Arnold, Thomas Mudge, Christopher Pinchbeck, William Tomlinson, Justin Vulliamy, and Benjamin and Benjamin Lewis Vulliamy. In _Old Clocks and Watches and their Makers_, by the late F. J. Britten, there is a list of some ten thousand names of clockmakers, so that examples coming in the possession of collectors can readily be checked by this list. But the fact that a maker's name is not in this directory does not exclude him from recognition as a master, though possibly he may not be one of the great masters. =The Several Branches of a Great Art.=--The timekeeper--whether it be the scientific astronomical clock, or the chronometer used by mariners, or the modern watch, minute in size but recording time with accuracy, or the bracket or table clock, or the long-case clock--has proceeded on parallel lines of development. These types represent the several branches of the great art of clockmaking. Clockmakers and watchmakers very soon specialized when the correct standard had been reached, and further inventions effected economy in mechanism rather than drastic changes in principle making for further exactitude. Specialization may be said to have undone clockmaking. We realize that the clockmaker could not cast the brass spandrel ornaments and chase them, or engrave the dial. We do not expect him to, nor did he, lay the marquetry, or become a lacquer varnisher in the cases. We cannot call upon him to cast the bell in the chiming movement, or to make the catgut which is wound around the drum carrying the weights. Nor was he an expert in metal design to pierce the hands and employ delicate ornament in so doing. Perhaps we may forgive him employing a special trade to supply him with delicate springs. But the factory system of the middle nineteenth century began to eat into the vitals of clockmaking in this country as a scientific craft. Makers of wheels, makers of chains, makers of every conceivable part of the movement sprang into being. No one of whom was a clockmaker, and no unit of any such industry could put a clock together. The clockmaker, and even then there is something personal yet remaining, became an assembler of component parts. He certainly understood the completed whole and made the wheels move and the hands record exact and perfect time. That is something, and it is a very great thing too. But how shorn of his former glory is the clockmaker in these conditions! In this volume we deal with the collecting period, which is the stage prior to this, but it is possible to look ahead as well as backward. Factory-made clocks will be made, perfect timekeepers without doubt. But there is still the great possibility that the clockmaker may seize his own and wrest the laurels from the impersonal syndicate. To him who can add personality to a clock--that something which parts put together with mechanical precision lack--there awaits a glorious heritage. The soul of the living clock must echo the soul of its human maker. The old masters have left to posterity living organisms which will not die. It rests with the public to say whether they prefer the gramophone to the singer, the piano-player to the accomplished pianist. If the clock of tomorrow is to be a mere soulless machine, the demand will be met. But if it is to revert to that higher plane of the old masters of clockmaking, it is for those who love beauty and truth to make their desires imperative. For the moment, therefore, the study of the old and the perfect claims the loving attention of the collector who sees new lamps, like those which the magician in Aladdin's palace proffered for sale, in place of old. =What to Value and what to Collect.=--The appreciation of old clocks is a natural gift. To one his mezzotints, to another his Chelsea china, to another his old silver plate. But to all lovers of fine furniture the English clock appeals sympathetically. It has a twofold claim to recognition. It is, if it be a fine old English clock by an English maker, a reliable piece of mechanism as a timekeeper. It is in certain periods representative, in its marquetry or lacquered case, of styles of decoration and design now only equalled by copyists. If it is by one of the leading English clockmakers its movements are unequalled. It stands as a monument to a great scientific craftsmanship now almost extinct. The great English clockmakers of the first flight "were not of an age but for all time." Roughly speaking, the first twenty-five years of the eighteenth century and the first thirty-five years of the nineteenth century represent two periods when the clockmaker was doing splendid work. The clocks of the intervening period are of value as representing work of extreme carefulness, and are of course worthy of the attention and admiration of the collector. In the first period a crowd of skilled scientific clockmakers followed each other in rapid succession and brought the art of horology to perfection. During this first period the clock cases and the clock dials came under artistic impulses not since equalled. It therefore follows that for these two reasons the clocks of the first period are most highly appreciated and are of great value. The second period, that is, the first thirty-five years of the nineteenth century, represents an era of established and sound technique, exhibiting craftsmanship of a high order struggling for supremacy and recognition at a time when factory inventions and factory-made substitutes commenced to dominate not only the art of the clockmaker but other personal crafts. During this time the case and the dial cannot be said to possess the high artistic qualities found in the earlier period. Art was beginning to sink into the Slough of Despond which for half a century characterized most European arts, both fine and applied. =Hints for Beginners.=--To set out to buy an old clock is for the tyro like setting out to buy a horse. In the latter case the teeth may be filed and the hoofs pared to give a simulation of youth to which possibly the beast could not lay claim. In the former, added touches would counterfeit antiquity: here a pair of apparently old hands, there an antiquated-looking dial, and an enshrining case of no particular period, but seeming to bear Time's own impress of age, till one is inclined to say, to quote the _Merchant of Venice_: "I never knew so young a body with so old a head." The following chapters will indicate the outline of a complex and intricate subject. The case, the dial, the hands, all have to be studied with no little skill in comparison and deduction in regard to errors in clumsy repairers or unskilled restorers, who with vandal hands have destroyed the balance of fine work and introduced component parts which are harlequin to the trained collector's eye. This much for the _visible_. Then there is the movement, that is, the mechanism which makes the clock a clock. This is unseen by the average snapper-up of old clocks, or when seen not understood. There are those collectors who stop short in their requirements. A clock is an ornament to a well appointed home, in the hall, in the smoking-room, or in the dining-room. They are unconcerned as to whether it is a timekeeper or a monument, "long to be patient and silent to wait like a ghost that is speechless." One longs to call aloud to such an encumbrance with its dead wheels and its atrophied hands: "Watchman! What of the night?" It is a servant that serves no longer. It is like a poor relation thrusting his company upon his fellow-guests with dumb tongue and a solemn demeanour telling of former glories. But the sane modern collector wants an old clock not because it is old, but because he rightly has assumed that there are certain qualities of the old clockmaker's art which are not to be found in later periods. Wise in his generation, he places himself not in the hands of a dealer who has sold a thousand clocks, but in the hands of a practical clockmaker who has made one. A trained man having a knowledge of old movements, and to whom they are something more than inanimate objects, will advise the collector. To such a man a clock is something with a soul. To him one goes who will set the silent wheels moving and endow the dead clockmaker's heritage with pulsating life. But--the word of warning cannot be too strongly sounded to all possessors of old clocks. Every year fine examples of old work are ruined for ever by ignorant repairers and restorers. In their little day they have destroyed movements and parts which can never be replaced. Of all arts, the art of the clockmaker has suffered most at the hands of the modern destroyer of work he does not understand. CHAPTER II THE BRASS LANTERN CLOCK The domestic clock--Its use as a bracket or wall clock--Seventeenth-century types--Continuance of manufacture in provinces--Their appeal to the collector. The form of the lantern clock is one that appeals to the artist. We love the candelabrum with candles, with its finely, fashioned brass forms, Dutch and English. It adds a grace to the interiors of the old masters of the Low Countries. Nobody is especially interested in the gas bracket or the paraffin lamp. There is the picture of _The Doctor_ by Luke Fildes, but here the lamp only adds to the poverty and anguish of the scene. It is realistic and had to be there, and it makes a great factor in the lighting. But the chandelier with candles is the most beloved by the artist who inclines to the primitive, as we all do. The electric light must come into art and it does. The lift and the telephone are facts, but they are difficult, naked and unashamed as they are, to clothe with æsthetic drapery. The cubist and the modern pseudo-scientific realist revel in incongruities repellent to art. They seize these as their own, and make them in their presentation more repellent. Happily the clock has not received the attention of the modern sensation-monger. We are left with the heritage of the past undisturbed. He may gibe at the paint and canvas of old masters, he may deride the grace of the Greek in sculpture, but the simple mechanism of the clock symbolizing "the inaudible and noiseless foot of Time" mocks the charlatan of a little day, with oblivion tracking his scurrying heels. The name of lantern clock may puzzle the modern collector, but its shape followed the lantern of the period, and, like the lantern, it was made to hang on the wall. We illustrate (p. 47) a silver ship's lantern of the period of Christian IV of Denmark, of the late sixteenth century, with the King's monogram. It was doubtless used in the expedition round the North Cape. It is in the collection at Rosenborg Castle at Copenhagen. This lantern shape is found in German clocks of the period, and in English seventeenth-century clocks the same shape is continued. A fine example by Bartholomew Newsam is illustrated (p. 47), showing the early type conforming to the lantern design. Not only the form but the usage determined the name. The lantern had spikes or metal hooks to hang upon. The clock similarly was affixed to a wall, and we know it as a bracket clock, because, whether on a wall or on a bracket, it had chains and weights suspended beneath it, as it was not in its early form capable of being placed on a table. [Illustration: SHIP'S LANTERN OF SILVER. Used by Christian IV of Denmark on his voyage round the North Cape. (_At Rosenborg Castle, Copenhagen._)] [Illustration: EARLY LANTERN CLOCK. By Bartholomew Newsam (1570-90). (_At British Museum. Reproduced by permission._)] We think lovingly of it as belonging to a past that is something more than tapestry figures moving in a misty background. To watch the revolving pinions of a Stuart clock is to hear the echoes of the past reverberate. It requires no gramophone to reproduce dead voices, nor a cinema picture to recall bygone incidents and happenings. One can listen to the same monotone calling forth the departure of the seconds that awakened George Herbert from a reverie and beat rhythmically to his carefully wrought verse. The same hand pointed to midnight that beckoned Lovelace from his revels. We are reminded of Justice Shallow's "we have heard the chimes at midnight,"--an old man's boast of rollicking gaiety. The trite engraved words _Tempus fugit_ drew a thousand sweet sounds from golden-mouthed Herrick, who sang of fading roses and counselled maids "with Daffodils and Daisies crowned" to make the most of their charms. _Vanitas vanitatum_, all is vanity; the sadness of it all, the flying hours that no man can recall, the long slow shadow that creeps across the grass--this is the message of the poets; and when they pause for a moment from the dance in the sunlight to think of time, it is Time the ancient reaper with the scythe, who cuts down the young flowers ruthlessly with the fateful sweep of his blade. =Its Use as a Bracket or Wall Clock.=--Old engravings of clocks and of clockmakers' workshops show clocks on the wall with the weights suspended beneath the brass case. Such a clock usually went for thirty hours. That is, it was usual to wind it by pulling up the chains once a day, a method retained, in long-case clocks of thirty-hour duration, by provincial makers a couple of centuries later in England. It is obvious that these clocks stand apart from the era of the spring as a driving force, being weight-driven, and are before the introduction of the pendulum as a regulator of the mechanism impelled by the weights. As timekeepers they never can bear comparison with the later type with the long pendulum. They stand as examples of early clockmaking, with fine brass dials, with artistic appearance, simple and unpretentious, but lacking the real scientific application of further developed principles of a succeeding period. A clock that could only be used as a bracket clock or a wall clock with weights beneath hardly filled the requirements of an age when domestic furniture demanded luxury and exquisite taste. The personal clock--that is, the watch--offered more possibilities. The advent of the pendulum came just at a time when the art of the clockmaker required the necessary impetus to carry him to newer and more extended fields. The invention revolutionized the domestic clock. As to the clocks used by the wealthy classes in England at the year 1685, one recalls the death-bed scene of Charles II as described by Macaulay: [Illustration: SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY BRASS CLOCK. With pendulum in front of dial. (_At British Museum. Reproduced by permission._)] [Illustration: SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY BRASS CLOCK. With pendulum behind back plate of clock.] "The morning light began to peep through the windows of Whitehall; and Charles desired the attendants to pull aside the curtains, that he might have one more look at the day. He remarked that it was time to wind up a clock that stood near his bed. These little circumstances were long remembered, because they proved beyond dispute that, when he declared himself a Roman Catholic, he was in full possession of his faculties. He apologized to those who had stood round him all night for the trouble which he caused. He had been, he said, a most unconscionable time dying; but he hoped that they would excuse it. This was the last glimpse of that exquisite urbanity so often found potent to charm away the resentment of a justly incensed nation. Soon after dawn the speech of the dying man failed." It was Bacon who wrote, a century before: "If a man be in sickness or pain, the time will seem longer without a clock or hour-glass than with it." The question arises as to what particular kind of clock was at the bedside of Charles II that he should notice that it required winding. It may have been usual to wind it at that particular time every morning, being, as it undoubtedly was, a thirty-hour clock conveniently wound the same time every day. But it is more probable that the King saw that it wanted winding by the position of the weights. =Seventeenth-century Types.=--The idea of the pendulum had been in men's minds since the days of Leonardo da Vinci, but Christopher Huygens, the Dutch astronomer and mechanician, applied it to the clock. At first it was placed in front of the dial and swung from the top. The illustration we give (p. 51) shows an early clock with this device. The pendulum was next placed at the back (see adjacent illustration, p. 51), and later inside the clock. We illustrate several types of the lantern clock showing its changing form from a slender and graceful clock, with the dial in correct proportion, to the later type, when the dial projected beyond the body of the clock. When the bell was placed at the top and ornamented by a brass terminal, the name applied to the clock was "birdcage," and pictures by the old Dutch masters show birdcages of this shape hanging in ladies' boudoirs. It will be observed that as a rule the dials are circular, consisting of the hour plate without the four spandrels. But we illustrate an example of a square dial by John Bushman, London, about 1680, with crown and verge escapement, with short pendulum, and alarum with striking and going trains run by same weight. It will be observed that these clocks have only one hand--the hour hand. In the example above mentioned (see Frontispiece), the dial has an inner circle showing quarters of an hour. The hand, as illustrated, has passed one quarter and half of the next; it is therefore about twenty-two and a half minutes past three. There is also an alarum marked with arabic figures one to twelve. (An enlargement of this dial is illustrated p. 163) The other specimens we illustrate exhibit slightly varying characteristics. [Illustration: BRASS LANTERN CLOCK, WITH SINGLE HAND. Thirty hours; striking, but no alarum. With chains and weights beneath; short pendulum at back. Date, about 1660. Maker, Daniel Quare (London).] [Illustration: BRASS LANTERN CLOCK, WITH TWO HANDS. Thirty hours; striking and alarum. Anchor pendulum with wings each side and chains and weight below clock. Short pendulum at back. Date, about 1670.] [Illustration: BRASS LANTERN CLOCK. Showing chains with weights and long pendulum. Date, about 1700. (_At the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York._)] The brass lantern clock illustrated (p. 55) has chains and weights. It is a thirty-hour clock, with striking but no alarum movement. It has a short pendulum behind the back plate. The use of an anchor-shaped pendulum brought a winged screen into fashion to conceal its movement. The example illustrated (p. 55) shows this style. This also is a bracket clock with chains supporting the weights. But the bracket clock did not stop at this stage. On the introduction of the long or seconds pendulum this new mechanism was embodied in brass clocks, and the illustration (p. 57) of an example about 1700 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, shows this type. A fine brass lantern clock by Thomas Tompion is at the British Museum, an illustration of which is given (p. 61). =Continuance of Manufacture in the Provinces.=--Long after the long-case clock was in general use in London, the brass clock with weights and pendulum was extensively made in the provinces. Examples are found by local makers up to the early years of the nineteenth century. In a measure this continuance of an obsolete form is parallel with the village cabinet-maker's furniture. Generation after generation produced oak chairs and settles in Stuart form, and when Chippendale seized the world of fashion, it was not till long afterwards that village craftsmen made chairs in the Chippendale manner--but in yew, in beech, and in sycamore, never in mahogany. Even Sheraton's satinwood elegance in delicate tapered legs found an echo in elm and beech. It is such naïveté which is delightful to the collector, and in provincial clocks he will find a study equally rewarded by extraordinary anachronisms and singular adaptations within the compass of the local maker. For instance, the marquetry of the village carpenter is always a hundred years behind the time. His engraving on dials is of the same character as that on his local coffin-plates or his tombstones. His painted dials often exhibit native touches difficult to equal. =Their Appeal to Collectors.=--Anything that appeals to collectors, whether it be Morland's colour prints or Wheatley's _Cries of London_, old Sheffield plate, Stuart cane-back chairs or Sheraton tea-caddies, pays the usual tribute which the antique pays to posterity. As imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, a thousand replicas start up to supply a demand. The man of taste says that such and such a thing is unique in its art-appeal to him. The man of money seeks to prove that it is not unique and buys as many uniques and antiques as his distended banking account will allow. We find this applies to lantern clocks. Birmingham has turned out thousands of these brass clocks in replica of seventeenth-century styles. Sometimes as much as ten pounds is asked for them, and sometimes it is found that an old maker's name has been added to the dial. There is no particular harm in any man having replicas of fine old objects of art in his house if he likes the styles and cannot afford originals. But it is a pity that any one should ever pay more than replica price for a copy. That is foolishness, and outside the realm of collecting. [Illustration: BRASS LANTERN CLOCK. Maker, Thomas Tompion (1671-1713). Height 8-3/4 inches. (_At British Museum. Reproduced by permission._)] Perhaps it is a wise dispensation of Providence that the man of wealth can possess the originals and that the poor man and the man of taste must content himself with copies. It was Balzac who chalked up in his garret, "Here is a Velasquez," "Here is an Andrea del Sarto." Lovers of the real can impart to the modern replicas purchased for a few pounds the spirit of the old examples. It is the same artistic impulse which accepts the translation in lieu of the original. Through FitzGerald we read Omar. Horatius Flaccus, who appeals to the esoteric with his _odi profanum vulgus_, is filtered through a Western tongue. One is grateful to see plaster casts in the British Museum of the Three Fates from the Parthenon at Athens. Echoes suggest so much to those who have the inner spirit to conjure up the original. CHAPTER III THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE PERIOD OF VENEER AND MARQUETRY What is veneer?--What is marquetry?--The use of veneer and marquetry on long-case clocks--No common origin of design--Le style réfugié--Derivative nature of marquetry clock-cases--The wall-paper period--The incongruities of marquetry. For some fifty years--that is, from about 1670, the date of the secret treaty of Charles II with Louis XIV, to about the year 1720, the early years of the reign of George I--there was a marked leaning towards colour in furniture as distinct from form. The solid English oak of early days and the later intricacies of walnut were dependent solely on form, either in carving or in elaborate turning, as in the Charles II and James II period, when the so-called "barley-sugar" pattern and other elaborate "corkscrew" turned legs added grace and beauty to furniture beginning to take its place beside the work of great European craftsmen. In flattering imitation of continental schools, but more particularly the Dutch, English cabinet-makers commenced to inlay their furniture with ivory and coloured woods, and designs embodying conventional birds and flowers became of frequent use. A considerable amount of skill was employed in adopting this new art, which necessitated the careful laying of veneer. In comparison with the ordinary Dutch cabinet-work, this derivative English furniture exhibits, in a measure, finished work of a high degree in regard to the exactitude of cabinet-work which surpassed the prototypes. The English craftsman was working in a new medium, and he apparently was exceptionally careful in handling its technique. In the reign of William of Orange, as may be imagined, with his Dutch retinue and the Dutch influences at Court, the style received a great impetus and the country was flooded with Dutch art. This impress of the House of Nassau is left upon Hampton Court, with its canal, its avenues, and its formal gardens. What Charles II and his exiled cavaliers brought in spirit from The Hague, William brought in reality when he landed at Torbay in 1698. It must be remembered that in 1685 and in the immediately succeeding years, owing to the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV, fifty thousand Huguenot families fled from France to escape a horrible fate at the hands of their Roman Catholic fellow-countrymen. In vain the Archbishop of Canterbury directed the clergy not to dwell on the sufferings of the French Protestants, and in spite of James II, whose sympathies were with their persecutors, the sum of forty thousand pounds was collected in the English churches and handed over to the Chamber of London. This was a great sum in those days to be raised thus voluntarily. Three years afterwards James ignominiously fled to the Continent and a second Revolution ended the Stuart dynasty. Thousands of skilled workmen settled in London. At Spitalfields they erected silk-looms; they represented the best type of artist craftsmen, silversmiths, woodworkers, glass-blowers, cabinet-makers, designers, and other artistic industries. Their advent was an artistic asset to this country. The Duke of Buckingham ten years earlier had procured a number of expert glassworkers from Venice and had established the manufacture of glass and mirrors at Vauxhall. =What is Veneer?=--The art of veneering is of ancient origin. It has a long record before it reaches what we now know as veneering. To make a rapid survey we must commence with the art of inlay. This art may be in metal upon metal, as in damascening; stone upon stone, as in _pietra dura_; porcelain, terra-cotta, enamel, or coloured glass, as in mosaic work; or wood upon wood, as in intarsia; which subsequently became marquetry. The inlays in all these techniques are cut into cubes, hexagons, triangles, or other forms, often of very minute size, to form broad designs, as in marble pavements, or surfaces of great area such as the dome of St. Mark's at Venice, the choicest home of mosaic work in the world. From these grandeurs to the Tunbridge ware trinket-boxes with their intricate patterns, or the nicely fitting lids of Scottish snuff-boxes, is a far cry, but they embody the same principle. Veneering may therefore be comprehensively described as overlaying or inlaying one body with portions of another. A veneer may be plain, without inlay or marquetry, such as a plain panel of mahogany affixed or laid on to a body of oak or some other wood. But in practice it has been so much used as a groundwork for the art of inlay and marquetry that it is difficult to separate them. There is a prevalent idea that veneer has a sinister meaning. The comparison has been made between solid and veneer, as though the former were true and the latter something false, parallel with the distinction Pope made-- Worth makes the man, the want of it, the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunello. There is every reason why such a notion should be held as true. It is true of modern cabinet-work of the shoddy type, where pine is veneered with mahogany and walnut and passed off as solid. But the collector is dealing with a period when veneering was an art adopted for sound decorative and technical reasons and not solely for purposes of gain. The old craftsman found it impossible to make cabinets and other pieces of furniture of rare wood, such as ebony, tulip-wood, rosewood, satinwood, and others. It was not always workable in such fashion; its weight was one factor against its employment in the solid. But in introducing panels and fronts of these richly decorative woods the cabinet-maker of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries brought colour into his work and employed the highest artistry. The sound construction of these old veneered cabinets was before the days of machinery; veneers or slices of the wood to be laid on were cut by hand, and were one-eighth of an inch thick, hence their stability. Nowadays sheets of veneer are saw-cut and knife-cut, and with modern machinery the former vary from twelve to fifteen to the inch, and the latter average about forty sheets to the inch, although sheets can be cut, incredible as it may seem, of the thinness of a cigarette paper. =What is Marquetry?=--Marquetry is the inlaying of wood into wood. We have already seen that other inlays have their respective techniques and names. But there is the question as to the application of the old word "tarsia," which apparently in the early days included both wood and metal inlays. "Intarsia" is the term applied to that particular early type of marquetry which brought inlaying coloured woods to such perfection in two great schools, the Italian and the German. By means of woods, either of their natural colour or stained, woodworkers produced pictures in wood. Great Italian masters drew for the Italian school of artist craftsmen. Just as the dome of St. Mark's at Venice shows the successive styles of mosaic work executed during several centuries from Byzantine to Italian, so the choir stalls show the work of the cloistered _intarsiatori_ at the cathedral at Siena, at the cathedral and at S. Maria Novella, Florence, at Perugia, at Lucca, at Pavia, at Genoa, and at Savona. Small pieces of carefully selected wood were inserted into darker wood panels to produce fanciful devices or pictures, with perspective and even tone. This intricate art resembled that of the mosaic-worker, whose more ambitious works have taken from fifteen to twenty years to execute. Some of the tesseræ in this technique are hardly larger than a pin's head. Day by day they were patiently laid on the cement to form the design. Similarly in the old intarsia days the workers did not heed time. They selected their delicate little pieces of coloured wood and proceeded to lay their panels and stalls for posterity. The German school of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries attracted considerable attention, at Nuremberg, at Augsburg, at Dresden, and at Munich. In North Germany intarsia was principally employed on smaller articles, such as cabinets, chairs, coffers, although Lübeck and Danzig furnish fine examples in the panelling of the town-halls. In South Germany, in closer touch with Italian influence, the practice was more diverse; sideboards, doors, bedsteads, panelling, friezes, and even gables to châteaus, received this ornamentation. Augsburg and Nuremberg developed an industry and exported their marquetry. This suggests the first attempt at duplication. Black on white and white on black, male and female as they are termed in the trade, or later, in France, Boulle and counter-Boulle, were exported. The slicing of design and the manipulation of the knife, and later the saw, came into operation to fret out the pattern. In its subsequent development marquetry left the inlaying, piece by piece, and as tools became more perfect easier methods were employed. Whether André Boulle, in his _atelier_ under Louis XIV, invented the process or whether he got it from Germany through Holland is immaterial to the present argument. His brass and tortoiseshell marquetry set a fashion to all succeeding craftsmen. He has given his name to his particular style; though it has been "defamed by every charlatan and soiled with all ignoble use" and corrupted to "Buhl," but there is no reason why _Boulle_ should not stand, although Webster's Dictionary knows him not. Practically, nowadays marquetry is the cutting of thin sheets of wood which have been superimposed upon each other, and when taken apart, after the desired pattern has been cut away, fit into each other to produce the desired colour effect. For instance, a sheet of walnut, dark brown, placed over a sheet of sycamore, light yellow, has a pattern pasted on it in paper. The delicate fret-saw traces this pattern and cuts through both light and dark woods. The result is that the light-wood surface is left with a perforation ready to receive the piece cut from its fellow, the dark wood, and _vice versa_. That is just what the marquetry-worker does. He transposes the piece of sycamore to the walnut surface and fits it in, showing a yellow design on dark brown, and similarly the walnut piece, fitted in place or the sycamore ground, shows a brown design on a yellow surface. This is only a simple outline of the process, as more than two sheets are placed together. In its intricacies it represents one of the most delicate and highly skilled crafts in connection with cabinet-making. The adept at jig-saw puzzles may draw a seemly parallel between his pastime and the patient artistry of the artist-craftsman. =The Use of Veneer and Marquetry.=--In its decoration and in its form the long-case or "grandfather" clock is as Dutch as the tiles of Haarlem. Derivative as is English art, the sharp line of a new introduction is rarely so clearly defined as in the instance of the late seventeenth-century long-case clock. As a long wooden case it was itself an innovation. Being new, it was never at any previous time English, and it started its history under Dutch auspices, as in similar manner the pendulum was introduced into England by Fromanteel. There is no mistaking its origin. It comes straight from the placid canals and waterways, the prim and well-ordered farmsteads, or the richly loaded burghers' houses of the Low Countries. It has become as thoroughly English as the Keppels and the Bentincks. [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. With fine marquetry decoration. Maker, Jas. Leicester (Drury Lane). 1710. Height, 8 ft. 2 in. Width, 1 ft. 7-1/2 in. Depth, 10 in. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Maker, J. Windmills (London). Date, about 1705. Decorated in marquetry.] [Illustration: ENLARGEMENT OF DIAL. Showing cherub's head with floriated design in spandrel and broken frieze. Marquetry in hood indicates coarser style than in rest of clock. (_By courtesy of H. Wingate, Esq., Rochester._)] In regard to clock-cases, it is mostly found that the veneer has been laid upon an oak body. Usually the main surface is of walnut, into which the design has been inlaid by the use of other woods of suitable colours. At first the marquetry was in reserves or panels, as though the worker were warily picking his way and timidly mastering the technique. At this period clock-cases were, on account of the small space to be inlaid, very fit subjects for experiment. Doubtless some of the more ambitious work of the early years of this half-century (1670-1720) was actually produced by Dutch and also by French workmen settled in this country, and doubtless the clock-cases were largely imported. In either instance this would account for the early adoption of small articles such as clock-cases, after which followed chairs and tables, and finally larger pieces of furniture such as bureaus, when the cabinet-maker was master of the new art of laying veneer and marquetry, or when the public taste had advanced sufficiently to induce him to embark on more elaborate work. It is not easy to lay down any exact rules as to the priority of certain styles of marquetry. Many of them overlap in regard to date. It all depends on the point of view. Huguenot craftsmen or Dutch marquetry-workers could, and possibly did, make in London many such an example as the fine case with panels (illustrated p. 75) containing the movement by James Leicester, in date 1710, or the other example, in date about 1690 (illustrated p. 237), with the movement by Joseph Knibb, of Oxford, placed in the chapter on provincial makers as a glorious tribute to those great makers who worked outside the metropolis. In this earlier case of the Knibb clock it will be seen that there are only two panels, and they exhibit, in comparison with the James Leicester clock, a finer sense of proportion in relation to the surface to be decorated. It may not unreasonably be advanced, where the nicety of balance is well sustained, that the maker set out to make a clock-case with the dimensions fully before him as a marquetry-worker and not merely as a mechanical layer of imported panels. There is the suggestion in cut panels that they were not thought out in accord with the English clock-case, with its hole showing the pendulum. Of exceptional interest is the fine clock by J. Windmills. The marquetry case of this clock has been untouched, and its condition, as shown by the illustration (p. 77), helps to prove a point. It is clear that the panel of marquetry was not intended by the craftsman who laid it to have a hole to show the pendulum. The design shows the disturbance caused by this unexpected innovation. The enlarged hood shows the broken frieze, an accident frequently attending old examples. But the frame in hood around glass has been laid in marquetry by a coarser hand in an attempt to be in keeping with the panel of the door in case below. The somewhat clumsy joinery of the door frame, shown clearer in the enlargement, indicates the amalgamation of the English case-maker and the more finished marquetry-panel worker. [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Maker, Henry Harper (Cornhill). 1690-95. Height, 8 ft. 6 in. Width, 1 ft. 7-1/2 in. Depth, 10 in. (_In the possession of Mr. John Girdwood, Edinburgh._)] Frequently cases offer curious obstacles to preconceived ideas. Take, for example, the fine case with the movement by Henry Harper of the period from 1690 to 1695 illustrated (p. 81). As far as it is possible to determine, it would seem that this specimen of marquetry belongs to a later period, certainly more advanced than the panel period. With so fine a field of design to select from, no marquetry-worker would take this design from a Persian carpet at the beginning of the style. This case represents the highest Dutch feeling and technique as assimilated in this country, and the carved brackets have a distinctly Marot character. It stands as a superlative example of marquetry decoration. It sometimes happens that a clockmaker, as the differences in sizes of many of these clocks are not great, found an earlier case ready to his hand, or a client desired a particular style of decoration, and he accordingly put his new clock of 1710 into a case twenty or thirty years earlier. Or it may be that some marquetry-worker reproduced the former style. Whichever may have happened we cannot say--these are the conundrums left as a heritage to the collector, who now comes two hundred years later. The fine example of a clock by Martin, London (1710), illustrated (p. 85), is well balanced, and typifies the marquetry in an early period. The turned pillar has not yet disappeared, and is reminiscent of the fine Tompion cases with turned pillars. It exhibits the transitional stage before marquetry entirely supplanted the older style. In this specimen the marquetry is under fine artistic control. In what for convenience of expression we term the "all-over" period the marquetry-worker ran riot. Not only in colour, for he had to compete with the richly coloured lacquered cases, but in form. But he had as a craftsman learned the art of laying his imported marquetry sheets where he willed. He was not deterred from rounded surfaces, and the cramped pattern of the panel was discarded, to make way for the style where the pattern, like chintz or wall-paper, conveniently repeated itself. There is no mistaking such an example, splendid though it is, as exemplifying this period illustrated (p. 87), for the quieter and more reticent style of panel-work with design in due subjection. The student will desire to take cognizance of country-made marquetry cases. Marquetry was practised in England before this outburst of colour and form on the clock-case. Occasionally settles and buffets--very occasionally--had stringing in a thin pattern of black and white intarsia work. Provincial makers are therefore a delight as well as a confoundment to the collector. A cabinet-maker in Devonshire or a would-be marquetry-worker in Cumberland may, between his intervals of making the coffins for his deceased neighbours or turning their wagon shafts, essay to try his hand at imitating the squire's clock-case of fifty years' previous date. He usually puts a label to his handiwork which renders it easily recognizable. There is no _style réfugié_ about his craftsmanship. His design is crudely "chopped in," that is, the solid wood has been cut out to receive the pieces of the design, usually, as found now, very badly glued, and severely handled by time. This is interesting as showing 'prentice work--that is, 'prentice work coming many years after the finished art had been established in this country. It is remarkable that no such apprentice work appears in London-made examples. The conclusion to which one must come is that there was no such apprenticeship. Foreign refugees made the clock-cases or they were imported from Holland. [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Maker, Martin (London). 1710. Finely decorated in marquetry, with turned pillars in hood. Showing transitional period. (_In the possession of Mr. John Girdwood, Edinburgh._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Decorated in marquetry in the "all-over" style. (_By courtesy of Messrs. A. B. Daniell & Sons._)] =No Common Origin of Design.=--All art is derivative. It is not a crime for the craftsman to assimilate the best of all the great artists who have preceded him. This was the insanity of _L'Art Nouveau_. It wanted to commence again at elementary principles and to use poor forms that had long been discarded by great artificers. It wished us deliberately to ignore the past. An anvil has arrived by a process of evolution through long centuries of metal-workers, since man first smelted ore and fashioned metal, to its present form. It would be idle to equip the blacksmith with a square anvil. From China to Japan, from India to Armenia, from Bagdad to Cairo, from Alexandria to Venice, from Canton to Goa and thence to Lisbon, backwards and forwards across the world's trade routes art impulses have throbbed to the tune of the monsoons. Pulsating with life, they carried, and still carry, Eastern ideas to the West, and Western inventions to the East. Behind modernity and man's latest devices somnolently lies the great dead past--China and the Far East, Persia and Babylon, Egypt and Greece and Rome. Aztec gods and Ashanti gold ornaments, Peruvian Inca clay vessels and Malayan idols, surprise and bewilder the ethnologist with the similarity of rudimentary forms or with the marvellously pure ornament that comes out of the so-conceived dark corners of the earth to suggest older civilizations as artistic as those of the modern world. =Le Style Réfugié.=--The history of art is not hidden. Holbein and Hollar and Vandyck, Lely and Kneller worked in this country. The number of foreign artists and artist-craftsmen working in this country as acclimatized or as "naturalized" was stupendous. The beautiful swags and delicately carved woodwork embellishing so many English houses and proudly held as heirlooms are by a Dutchman's hand--Grinling Gibbons. The list could be extended. It is natural that the gold of England should have a hypnotic attraction to artistic temperaments. It is the law of supply and demand. Like bananas and pineapples, oranges and dates, foreign talent comes to a great emporium. The _style réfugié_ was something definite. It was a term employed in Holland just at the time when a similar immigration was occurring in this country. The French Protestant refugees fleeing from the insane fury of Roman Catholic bigots naturally fled to Protestant countries--to England, to Holland, and to Germany. It is admitted on the Continent that these highly skilled artist craftsmen had an influence on the art of the country of their adoption. It is acknowledged as _le style réfugié_. In England, writers on furniture have half-heartedly alluded to this influence, but it was very real. Daniel Marot, a descendant from an eminent family of French artists, a pupil of Lepautre, formerly at the Gobelins factory, and one of the creators of the Louis Quatorze style, took refuge in Holland, where William of Orange appointed him as Minister of Works. From The Hague he followed his patron to England at the "Glorious Revolution." It was his genius in design that made our William and Mary and Queen Anne styles. At Hampton Court his personality predominates. Sir Christopher Wren occupied himself with the architecture, but the decorations are by Daniel Marot. Marot died in 1718. He stands in the forefront of the exponents of _le style réfugié_, and behind him are hundreds of his compatriots. It is idle to ignore this influence. Chippendale owed more than most people imagine to Marot. _Le style chinois_ is to be found, so to speak, in embryo, in Marot's design books, and suggestions of it appear in some of his executed work. The un-English marquetry became acclimatized, and later, as we shall show, the equally un-English lac became a fashion. =Derivative Nature of Marquetry Clock-cases.=--The laying of marquetry as a craft is one thing, the conception of marquetry as a creative art is another. We may admire the dexterity of the inlay but deplore the design. At the Mortlake tapestry works Vandyck and Rubens made drawings for the craftsmen. In England, whenever the craftsman has been allied with the artist he has produced great results; whenever he has run alone he has rapidly run downhill. Josiah Wedgwood had on the one side Bentley the classical scholar, on the other Flaxman the artist and modeller with a perfect continental training. Chippendale, great craftsman that he was, would have been better advised to prune his Chinese taste and discard his worthless Gothic style. An artistic brain behind him would have saved him from such atrocities. Sheraton, more the artist than the craftsman, made no such blunders. Evidently the making of clock-cases became an industry. Personally we incline to the belief that seventy-five per cent. of them were of foreign manufacture, either in Holland and imported here, or made by Dutch immigrants or French refugees in this country. The derivative nature of their design tells its own story. It has nothing English about it. Take the early geometric star pattern or the early coloured birds and flowers, what else are they but Dutch? Is there anything in English art like them? The conclusion to which one must arrive is that the marquetry clock-case panel is Dutch or Anglo-Dutch. The derivative character runs through the whole gamut from the reticent and well-balanced panel period to the "all over" phase, when every inch was covered with marquetry, to the arabesque and intricate mosaic work reminiscent of Persia, and finally to the decadent period when Eastern carpets found themselves reproduced in marquetry on the clock-case. [Illustration: WILLIAM AND MARY CHEST OF DRAWERS. On original stand. Decorated in marquetry. Side showing panel in common use by cabinet-makers and clock-case makers. (_By courtesy of Messrs. Hampton & Son._)] [Illustration: CHEST OF DRAWERS DECORATED IN MARQUETRY. Side showing panel in common use by cabinet-makers and clock-case makers. (_By courtesy of Messrs. A. B. Daniell & Sons._)] When the hood of the clock-case became arched and the dial correspondingly had a lunette, the decorative marquetry panel in the case below followed the same form. It is possible, indeed very probable, that many such shaped panels were imported and were especially intended to meet the demand for use on clock-cases. It is always possible to a trained eye to see whether a panel has been made to fit the place in which one finds it. Is it part of a sanely conceived decorative scheme, or was it used because it happened to be handy as part of a cabinet-maker's stock-in-trade? We illustrate two examples of marquetry chests of drawers of the William and Mary period which offer many interesting features. In regard to the example with the oval panels (illustrated p. 93), the side of the piece exhibits a panel that is incongruous where it is. It is a clock-case panel. Similarly in the "all-over" marquetry chest of drawers of the same period (illustrated p. 95), the panel at the side is undoubtedly a clock-case panel. To examine both these chests of drawers in detail is to discover that the former shows that the panels of the drawers were carefully thought out before execution. The metal drop-handles in the centre were each intended to be there. They were in the cabinet-maker's mind when he made his design and laid his marquetry. He has accommodated his pattern to receive these handles. In the other example it is seen that no such care was taken. The escutcheon of the locks covers a portion of the marquetry. The cabinet-maker in London had his Dutch-imported panels ready to hand and he used them as he found them. If some collector or expert were to come along and determine that all the green and purple and flecked glass of the Early Victorian period, bottles with long necks and gilded stoppers, in English leather cases, vases of inimitable colour but execrable form, were typically English as representing early nineteenth century glass, we should put his theories aside as nonsense. Partly because we happen to know what Bohemia was exporting and partly because we know what the English glassworkers were doing in the same period. But in regard to 1650 to 1700 it is less easy to determine whether a wonderful school of expert marquetry-workers existed in London as a secret industry. One must assume that they had quietly assimilated all the technique of the Dutch craftsmen, and descended on the town, just at the right moment, with a new art, quite un-English, just at that moment when Dutch fashions were in the ascendant and when Mary, the consort of William of Orange, was employing Marot, the late Surveyor of The Hague, to convert Hampton Court from a Tudor into an Anglo-Orange palace. On an examination of delft earthenware of the period and Dutch decorative art in general, it is fairly obvious that the art impulses coincide with the various phases of ornament as found on the marquetry panel, whether they were the floriated designs of Italy with the vase and the symmetrical flowers in conventional form, further conventionalized by the Dutch, who clung to tulips and carnations, or the arabesque designs derived from the Dutch traffic with the East Indies, the pseudo-Persian sherbet tray as a panel, the prayer rug as a full design. With his black delft to imitate lacquered work of Japan and his blue delft to imitate the Kang-he Chinese porcelain, the Dutchman proved himself a superlative translator. The Dutch East India Company, till it was supplanted, was the conduit-pipe through which the arts of the East were allowed to pass into Europe. In another portion of this volume we show how apparently obscure ornament has a long lineage, and that craftsmen in minor details were producing something of which possibly they knew not the origin nor the significance; but it behoves the intelligent collector, who, after all, is in possession of more facts, spread over a wider area, to arrive at sane conclusions in regard to workers who wrought better than they thought. =The Wall-paper Period.=--It was a sad time when the idea originated to make wall-paper simulate marble or tapestry or leather, or anything else. Wall-hangings made of paper by the Chinese came into England in the early seventeenth century. But European wall-paper is a modern abomination. Chintz has a better excuse to imitate satin. "Callicoes" were tabooed at first, but they had and have a legitimate place. Wall-paper is an affectation which cannot be defended. It always pretends to be what it is not. It is really wonderful that amateurs did not paste it over clock-cases. Perhaps they did, and other persons, wiser in their generation, removed it. But if wall-paper of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries was not affixed to the clock-case, it was there in spirit, as it was on strident bureaus and other equally offensive articles of the period. The "all-over" style exhibits marquetry run mad. Artisans could apply the thin veneer, ten sheets to the inch, like paper, and they did. They had borders as common as modern factory-made imitation lace at a few pence per yard, and they laid them beside the pilasters and around the already well covered case. There was no square inch that could be said to be free from the attentions of the gluer of marquetry sheets. He began to dominate decoration till happily he was extinguished. =The Incongruities of Marquetry.=--To those who have handled a good many examples of marquetry furniture in which panelling is predominant, such as clock-cases, there is one feature which always strikes the practised eye. The question arises, How did the marquetry panel come there? It is another way of expressing the view that the proportion is radically wrong. A glance at a poor panel of a clock-case, or a faked panel, or a stupidly wrought panel, is enough. To the collector of old books nothing is more annoying than to find that the binder with all his fine tooling has trimmed off the margins of the printed matter and the illustrations. It is an edition with the space expurgated. It is the binder _versus_ the printer, and similarly in the clock-case it is too often the cabinet-maker _versus_ the designer of the marquetry panel. This is the sentiment one has on looking at many of the marquetry clock-cases. The persons who received them from Holland did not always know how to use them correctly. They either cut off their edges or left so little space as to convey the idea of a curtailed edition of the original. In the case of the panelled period, when there were three panels, two of them had more often than not to be cut off in the middle to make room for the circular aperture in the door showing the swinging pendulum. When the case-maker received his panels according to order from the Continent, one would have thought he would have done away with the hole in the case. But perhaps the clockmaker insisted otherwise. At any rate, it is a point showing the absence of intimate relationship between clockmaker and case-maker. Holland seems to be the answer, in spite of all experts to the contrary. On the "all-over" marquetry clock-cases there is a decided inclination to follow the designs found on contemporary delft ware. As to repetition, however well joined they are, the glue and the wax cannot hide the poverty of design. Twice or thrice in one case are patterns repeated. It is the wall-paper artist at work in a smaller area. In this connection one recalls the decadence of the wood-engravers, where three or four artists worked on portions of one picture cut into sections and screwed together as one block. The old journals, the _Illustrated London News_, and the _Graphic_ and others of the early 'eighties, tell of this decadence. The thin white lines, as long as ink and paper last, record this subterfuge. It was the last note of wood-engraving. Similarly, in marquetry, when we find the almost invisible lines denoting several hands, or the piecing together of the same design cunningly to deceive the persons at the period, we at a later stage read this as the note determining the end, and the end soon came. CHAPTER IV THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE PERIOD OF LACQUER What is lac?--Its early introduction into this country--"The Chinese taste"--Colour versus form--Peculiarities of the lacquered clock-case--The English school--English amateur imitators--Painted furniture not lacquered work--The inn clock. Lacquered work is the most un-English style of decoration that has ever been employed by the cabinet-maker in the embellishment of his furniture. It came from the East and was introduced into this country about the same period as tea-drinking. At first tea was drunk by fashionable folk from cups without handles, now it is the national beverage. Lac is a natural product of China, the sap of a tree in appearance resembling our ash-tree. It is not an artificial compound of resin and oils, worked down by turpentine. This natural gum is refined and coloured red, black, golden yellow, green, or grey. The surface of the wood is carefully prepared, and a ground is laid on by degrees, care being taken that each is of the right temperature and perfectly hard and dry before any layer is applied. Never less than three and sometimes as many as eighteen thin layers are thus applied to the surface of the wood before the actual decoration of this ground by the artist commences. In regard to the use of lac in this country, practical experts have questioned as to whether it is possible in a climate like this to effect the clean drying so necessary to attain perfection. London and other cities, on account of their dust-charged atmosphere, are unsuited for lacquer work. The artist draws his design of landscape or figures or birds or flowers, filling his details with gold or silver and superimposed colours built up with mastic, of those parts which are intended to be in slight relief. The Japanese brought the art of lacquer to the highest perfection. To those readers who desire to see the art of lacquer shown in its various stages, there is in the Botanical Museum at Kew Gardens a collection of specimens in various stages, including sections of the lacquer-tree, from which the lac exudes, and of various coloured lacs, and examples illustrating no less than fifty different methods of lacquering sword-sheaths. An examination of lacquer work is to be found in _Chinese Art_, vol. i, by Dr. Stephen W. Bushell, formerly physician to His Majesty's Legation at Peking. In the print-room of the Imperial Library at Paris is an album with drawings of the processes and explanatory notes. The Lacquer Industry in Japan forms a Report of His Majesty's Acting-Consul at Hakodate (Mr. J. J. Quin), printed as a Parliamentary Paper in 1882. =Its Early Introduction into this Country.=--At first the Portuguese had the monopoly of trade with the Far East. When Philip of Spain annexed Portugal in 1598, he sought to shut out the Dutch traders from participation in this trade. By this act he laid the foundation of the Dutch East India Company. It was only when Cornelius Houtman procured some Portuguese charts that the Dutch navigators first rounded the Cape _en route_ for India and China and Japan. The great Dutch East India Company was established in 1602. Porcelain and lacquered cabinets and boxes were thus at an early date distributed as rare articles of curious art at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Drake and Raleigh had captured Spanish galleons with such treasure, and the Portuguese possession of Goa in India had brought the wealth of the Far East to Western Europe. Evelyn tells us in his _Diary_, in 1681, of the richness of the apartments of the Duchess of Portsmouth at Whitehall. "The very furniture of the chimney was massy silver. The sideboards were piled with richly wrought plate. In the niches stood cabinets, the masterpieces of Japanese art." The dowry of Queen Catherine of Braganza did not come up to the expectations of the spendthrift Charles, although she came loaded with "japanned" boxes and rare artistic treasures from the East. Memoirs of this time furnish abundant proof that lacquered work was, in pieces of imported furniture, known in this country. But it is little likely that anything of that nature was manufactured here at that date. As a nation we had not developed on those lines; it is a fact worth remembering that as late as the reign of Charles II the greater part of the iron used in this country was imported from abroad. ="The Chinese Taste."=--This is a term which finds itself repeated like a parrot-cry from the late years of the seventeenth century. The vogue reached its height in 1750 as a fashion for the wealthy and a pastime for the dilettanti, and disturbed the steady growth of national spirit in art. There was a Chinese Festival at Drury Lane Theatre in 1755. Chippendale snatched his fretwork in his brackets and the angles of his chairs from the Chinese worker in ebony. He erected pagoda-like structures on his cabinets. The Bow china factory termed itself "New Canton," Worcester copied Chinese models, Bristol carried on the story. Staffordshire with her earthenware brought out the "willow-pattern," and a hundred other designs were acclimatized as reflections of the blue and white Canton porcelain. "Taste is at present the darling idol of the polite world and the world of letters, and, indeed, seems to be considered as the quintessence of almost all the arts and sciences. The fine ladies and gentlemen dress with taste, the architects, whether Gothic or Chinese, build with taste." So writes the essayist in the _Connoisseur_ journal in 1756, and he continues ironically, "Whoever makes a pagoda of his parlour fits up his house entirely in taste." This "Chinese taste" had seized France and Holland. The French artist-craftsmen readily saw that the great influx of Chinese and Japanese furniture would stifle their national artistic impulses. Louis Quatorze had to issue a decree at the end of the seventeenth century to prohibit the import of Oriental wares. The craze reached England later and developed later. But early in the eighteenth century the cabinet-makers of London petitioned Parliament against the importation of manufactured articles from the East Indies to this country. But nothing much seems to have come of their protest. The East India Company had become too powerful to brook interference with its trade by interested artisans. Thousands of lac panels were brought over in the company's ships, even in spite of the deep-rooted belief that lacquer work had at that time become an English art. It is to be presumed that some of the contentions of the old European lacquer-workers may be said to be parallel with the assertions of old potters who asseverated that they had discovered the true porcelain of China. In 1709 Böttger, at Meissen, had for the first time succeeded in producing white hard, paste porcelain, not in imitation of the Chinese, but actually a reproduction of the Oriental technique. But the secret was well kept, and Böttger and his workmen were imprisoned in a fortress. Since Father Du Halde, the Jesuit, had published in Paris in 1725 his _Description de l'Empire de la Chine_, other European potters had endeavoured to find the natural earths of the Chinese, kaolin and petuntse. When William Cookworthy, the chemist and potter of Plymouth, wrote of his discovery of the china clays, Josiah Wedgwood journeyed to Cornwall on a wild-goose chase. It may be imagined, with data such as these to guide us--first, the growing intensity of the "Chinese taste"; second, the demand for furniture and porcelain on the part of the wealthy classes--that as a consequence an attempt was made to supply the demand. There were various sources of supply for lacquered furniture, especially lacquered clock-cases. There was the Dutch market, from which was obtained, as in the case of marquetry, panels of lacquered work. At first, without doubt, these came from the East through Holland. The next stage was the Dutch lacquered panel actually produced in Holland. Later there was again the Oriental panel coming straight from the East through our own East India Company. Contemporaneously with these importations, which served as models, there was the lacquered work produced in this country. We shall later attempt to differentiate between these styles. =Colour versus Form.=--In various epochs the struggle has gone on in the applied arts in regard to the use and abuse of colour in decoration as an adjunct. In furniture the pendulum has swung to and fro. Colour follows form in the process of evolution. In England there is the oak period and the walnut period, where the beauty is solely dependent upon form. The conception of the cabinet-maker has usually been confined to form, eschewing colour, or to colour more or less ignoring the beauty of form, or as a compromise, when form has been subservient to colour. When form and colour are in exact harmony the highest ideals are reached in furniture. The Chinese have reached these ideals. The Italian school of the fifteenth century in the marriage coffer, where painting or coloured intarsia is of parallel beauty with the rich carving, achieved like success. With similar judgment, in holding the balance evenly between form and colour, André Charles Boulle conceived his wonderful work in tortoiseshell and brass and ebony and silver, forming a brilliant marquetry of colour, the colour effect being further heightened with a reddish-brown and sometimes a bluish-green ground beneath the semi-transparent tortoiseshell. Riesener and David Roentgen, in equally masterful technique, produced marquetry of tulip-wood, holly, rosewood, purple wood, and laburnum. With the style embodying the enrichment of the plain surface with colour came the use, and later the abuse, of lacquered panels. A Dutch cabinet-maker, Huygens, had won renown by reproducing remarkable imitations of the Japanese lacquered panel. In Holland, Chinese prototypes had served as models for delft ware. The Dutch potter had simulated the appearance of blue and white Chinese porcelain, but his results were obtained by a white enamel covering a brown body. Dutch lacquer work is similarly imitative of the results rather than a duplication of the Oriental processes. Chintzes and printed "callicoes" equally are surprising efforts at simulation, if not dissimulation. As a supreme effort of the successful attempt of the European to reproduce the wonderful limpid transparency of the old Chinese and Japanese work, the secret of Sieur Simon Etienne Martin, a French carriage painter, stands supreme. His varnish, called after him _Vernis-Martin_, has become the term, as in the case of Boulle, for a certain class of technique. In 1744 he obtained the monopoly in France for the manufacture of lacquered work in the Oriental style. He obtained the ground of wavy golden network, such as in rare Japanese panels, and on this Boucher and other artists painted Arcadian subjects. In England it cannot be said that these great foreign styles have been emulated in the grand manner or even attempted. When colour came to England it came straight from Holland, and _le style réfugié_ is responsible for the intermingling of the Dutch and French styles, though the former were at first greatly predominant. The important bureaus and splendid lacquered cabinets produced in the period when colour was employed so lavishly as to disregard form, are attributable, not for the least part of their excellent technique in the skilful employment of lacquer, to the great number of French and other foreign workmen who had settled in this country. =Peculiarities of the Lacquered Clock-case.=--The use of the lacquered panel in the long case of the clock cannot be said to have a definite period of its own. We cannot mark an exact date when marquetry panels or marquetry "all-over" cases were no longer the vogue, and when lacquered cases succeeded them. The two styles were comparatively contemporaneous. Marquetry cases, as we have seen, are as early as 1680, and they continued till about 1725, and later in the provinces. The lacquered case may be said to have run its day from about 1700 to 1755. On the whole they seemed to have had a longer vogue, mainly on account of the prevalence of the "Chinese taste," which demanded colour. Lacquered decoration jumped the experimental stage of reserves or panels that apparently were not quite in exact proportions to the case, but had to be fitted in and sometimes trimmed. It came at a juncture when this difficulty had been mastered. Accordingly, we find the whole of the lacquered case has been regarded as a rectangular surface to be decorated, and we have not met with any instance of more than one lacquered panel being employed on the case. The marquetry case offered other features which indicated the struggle of colour for supremacy. In the early marquetry specimens the turned walnut pillars of the hood belong to an earlier style. They indicate that that form had not been completely ousted. The marquetry worker in the end overcame this and drove these pillars out. In the lacquered case no such struggle is visible. The case is entirely a scheme in colour. It is red, or green, it is black and gold, but the design is never so strong as to tempt one to examine its form. It is simply decorative, but much in the manner that, in textile art, tapestry is pleasing, not challenging a critical examination of form, but suggesting a somnolent restfulness. Touches of incongruity appear in later examples of the lacquered clock-case when the arched hood came into fashion and the panel followed suit. It is a shape unsuited to an Oriental design. Such a Western architectural style used in combination with so Eastern a technique as lacquered work is like putting a Corinthian pillar on a Japanese bronze. The lacquered cases illustrated in this chapter indicate the style. The example with the movement by Joseph Dudds (1766-82), (illustrated p. 115), shows the early attempt to simulate the Eastern style. It is poor and thin, and has not stood the ravages of time and a damp climate. The specimen (illustrated p. 117), with the movement by Kenneth Maclellan (1760-80), is of more grandiose character. The panelled door was probably an importation, and the other decorations in lacquer done in this country. Among the Scottish clocks, the Patrick Gordon example (1705-15), (illustrated p. 263), proves this usage of imported Oriental panel with added decoration in as near a style as could be done on the spot. In this example the remainder of the so-called lacquered decoration is stencilled. [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK WITH LACQUER DECORATION. Brass dial with circular medallion with maker's name, "Joseph Dudds, London" (1766-82).] [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Maker, Kenneth Maclennan (London). Finely decorated in green lacquer. Date, 1760-80. Height, 8 ft. Width, 1 ft. 8 in. Depth, 10 in. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] =The English School.=--Dutch lacquered work was as prevalent between 1680 and 1725 as was Dutch marquetry. The rivalry between "John Company" and the Dutch traders was one factor that has to be considered. Lacquered work was coming straight from the East to Amsterdam and to English ports. What was not absorbed by the Dutch burghers came to England. Apart from this competitive Oriental trade, there was the lacquered work actually made in Holland. In examining the state of that country at this time one meets with a surprise. It was a land teeming with colour. Dutch painters have taught us to think otherwise. The Rijks Museum exhibits the prevalent styles of the seventeenth century. Here we find leather decorations derivative from Spain in rich gilding, Louis Quatorze boudoirs with classic gods and goddesses. The "Chinese Boudoir" from the palace of the Stadtholder at Leeuwarden shows the intense love of colour that had conquered Holland in the late seventeenth century. Here we find the Chinese prototypes in porcelain which provided the potters at Delft with problems to solve, and lacquered work which suggested patient imitation by Dutch cabinet-makers, but the colour and advanced technique of such Oriental originals must have confounded the old craftsmen. The potter simulated the porcelain with his enamelled earthenware, the cabinet-maker produced lacquered work which passed muster in Holland and England. Take the house of the rich burgher. The table was covered with an Eastern rug, called a "table carpet." The linen cupboards so beloved by the Dutch were surmounted by Chinese and Japanese porcelain. Often a Japanese lac cabinet gave another touch of colour to the interior. Rich damask curtains, Spanish leather hangings, Oriental rugs, finely inlaid cabinets of ebony and silver, and a glowing array of copper and brass, filled the heart of the Dutch _vrouw_ with pride. Such rooms were regarded as a "holy of holies," and the family had their meals in the kitchen or living room and were warned off the show room. The seventeenth-century Dutchwoman, according to all accounts, seems to have been a shrew. But enough is extant to prove that Holland was artistically, in regard to the home-life of Stadtholder and burgher, resplendent with colour, in spite of the low tones of the canvases of Dutch painters. In England, too, the love of colour was becoming predominant. Fifty thousand Huguenot families, with their Latin blood and love of colour, scattered in the Protestant countries had no inconsiderable influence. Spitalfields silk is as English as the dark and tortuous lanes from which it emanates. But every weaver had a French name, and although the industry has come to an end, tomorrow, if the demand arose, the descendants of these French Huguenots would again stand at the looms to produce English silk. The sudden outburst of colour in the now rarely prized English lacquered cabinets and bureaus must be attributed to the foreign workmen in our midst at the close of the seventeenth century. It is English perforce, because it was made in England. The followers of Huygens the Dutchman and the disciples of Martin the Frenchman were capable of producing something new and something surprising in English cabinet work. The foreign quarters of London have always been the centre of art industry. Armenians sit on the roofs of fashionable West End emporiums and restore carpets and rugs. Polish and Russian furriers travel by the Tube from Whitechapel and Bethnal Green, from the Commercial Road and Shoreditch to Regent Street and Bond Street with their handiwork. What is now, was two hundred and fifty years ago. Alien craftsmen, more skilled than the English workmen, worked for less wages and produced better work. The English style, therefore, of the late seventeenth century in lacquered work was as English as the work of Daniel Marot the Frenchman and of Grinling Gibbons the Dutch woodcarver at Hampton Court. The English style is praised as something fine and original as a European replica of the Oriental. So it is. It is the French grafted on to the Dutch and acclimatized here. It holds the same place in lacquered work as the Dutch delft ware does in ceramics. It is a splendid imitation of a technique not grasped by the imitator. Lovers of lacquered rarities and collectors of the so-called English style, so rare and so much extolled, can take it to heart that it is really English--as English as the canvases of Vandyck or the painted panels of pergolesi. =English Amateur Imitators.=--There are records enough to show that the art of lacquer had appealed to the amateur on account of its apparent simplicity. It is ludicrous to read of the attempts of seventeenth-century teachers of the art of "japanning" to young ladies. The seventeenth-century "miss," according to old memoirs, left her Stuart stump needlework, with its quaint costume and crude figures, to simulate the subtle art of the Chinese or Japanese lacquer-worker. At that time the greatest coach-panel painter could not have approached the finesse of the lacquered work coming from the East. In spite of Stalker and Parker in 1688, with their treatise how to produce lacquered "japanning" in the Oriental style--a guide for amateurs and the standard work for all the academies that taught this new accomplishment--we cannot believe much of this amateur work found its way on clock-cases, which in point of time heralded the oncoming burst of colour. It is incredible that all of a sudden, following the clock-case and the chair-back, fine red and green and black and gold lac decoration, as exhibited by rich cabinets and gorgeous bureaus scintillating with colour, could have succeeded the stump-work amateurs. Stalker and company must go by the board as caterers for a very amateur taste. Their book possibly never reached the trade, or if it did, it could have had very little influence upon adept refugees practising a subtle art. =Painted Furniture not Lacquered Work.=--Whatever may be determined as to the merits of _Vernis-Martin_ or of the creations of Huygens the Dutchman in regard to comparison with Chinese and Japanese prototypes, it is certain that English amateur work, which is often dull gold design on a black ground, is not only an echo but a feeble echo of the original. They are splendid examples of dulness. Pepys complains that women wore feathers in his day. The feminine instinct is difficult to reckon with. Some years ago very up-to-date young wives "aspinalled" everything pea-green or peacock-blue. They did a lot of damage. Similarly, in the seventeenth century, when the boudoir escaped from needlework into lacquer, much otherwise harmless furniture must have been spoilt. Hundreds of fine pieces of furniture were brought up to date by the simple process of painting them and simulating the Chinese lacquered work. In the Early Victorian age of graining, sapient workmen painted solid oak panels and grained them to resemble the oak that they had painted. Folly is not the monopoly of any age. It is eternal. To-day the framer, if he is not watched and carefully instructed, glues a fine engraving to a sheet of cardboard and rubs a wet cloth over the surface of the print, destroying its beauty for ever with his clod-like smudge. Fools are ever present to confound the conservation of art treasures. Painting a surface, however Oriental it may be in design, is _not_ lacquer work. Half the so-called lacquered work is merely painting with a coat of varnish put on it. When Sheraton and his school brought French painted panels into fashion in this country, they brought a true art. But it was not lacquer. Cipriani, Angelica Kauffmann, and Pergolesi, who used their brushes on cabinet work, and Zoffany, who did not disdain to paint clock-cases for Rimbault, brought a new style to this country. It was the age of colour-prints in the French taste; the Wards, the George Morlands, and the Bartolozzis demanded colour as a suitable environment. Satinwood and coloured marquetry and the painted panel accordingly found a place at this moment. The amateur attempts of the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, up to the _furore_ of the "Chinese taste" in 1750, must be disregarded as something outside the field of the collector--that is, if he is desirous of selecting lacquered work of excellent character. As a phase of fashionable caprice it is no doubt interesting, but it is to be hoped that most of these amateur efforts have succumbed to the influence of time and have been destroyed. They represent nothing in particular except a sham imitation of a great art, as stupidly offensive as was Strawberry Hill, the Gothic toy of Horace Walpole. =The Inn Clock.=--We interpolate here a short outline of a class of clocks which appeals to collectors. In America they are termed "banjo clocks." A good deal has been written about them, connecting them with Pitt's tax on clocks and watches in 1797 of five shillings on each clock per annum, which Act was repealed in the next year. It is supposed that these clocks suddenly came into being when private clocks were taxed, and were used in inns. Owing to such a deep-seated belief they are always known throughout the country as "Act of Parliament" clocks. But they were used earlier than the Act of 1797, and were probably ordinary inn clocks in common use about that time. They were wall clocks varnished with black lacquer, mostly plain, but sometimes decorated in gold. Often the figures were in white and they had no protective glass. [Illustration: INN CLOCK. Decorated in black and gold lacquer. Maker, John Grant (Fleet Street). About 1785. Formerly in possession of Sir Augustus Harris. (_By courtesy of John R. Southworth, Esq._)] The example illustrated (p. 125) is decorated in black and gold lacquer, and the name on the dial is John Grant, Fleet Street, about 1785. This is rather an elaborate specimen, as most of the ordinary inn clocks of this shape are innocent of these rather elaborate lacquer enrichments. They are to be found all over the country; we have seen one in an inn at Evesham. They are in Kent and the south, but do not appear to have been in common use in the northern counties, unless imported there later. Ale-house jests are frequent on old earthenware mugs--"Drink faire, don't swear"--and broad hints as to credit. This is similarly found as a standing pointed jest in an "Act of Parliament" clock in a Kentish inn, minus the works, with the inscription "No Tick"--a jest which the most seasoned toper could readily understand. Oliver Goldsmith, when he wrote his _Deserted Village_ in 1770, is said to have described in "Sweet Auburn" a typical Irish village in regard to its desertion, but he introduced touches reminiscent of his town habits. When he wrote of the village ale-house:-- The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door, he may have been thinking of inn clocks he had seen in Fleet Street. By his use of the word "varnished" it would appear that Goldsmith had in mind the ale-house clock of which we are speaking. There was no other that was "varnished," that is, lacquered. The term "Act of Parliament" clocks must therefore be discarded; these clocks were common inn clocks, and had nothing to do with the Act levying the tax in 1797. As a rule, elaborately lacquered examples of such clocks should be regarded with caution by the collector. The inn clock was "varnished," but it had no panelled lacquer and lattice-work gold ornament. It was a simple hanging wall clock _sans_ artistic embellishment. CHAPTER V THE LONG-CASE CLOCK--THE GEORGIAN PERIOD The stability of the "grandfather" clock--The burr-walnut period--Thomas Chippendale--The mahogany period--Innovations of form--The Sheraton style--Marquetry again employed in decoration. To collectors and connoisseurs the most desirable period of the long-case clock is from 1700 to about 1720. As we have seen in the previous chapters, this embraces the two styles of marquetry and lacquered work, although lacquered work continued to the middle of the eighteenth century. The year 1720 is not an arbitrary date, but this year is a convenient one. It marks the accession of the first of the Four Georges and the advent of the House of Hanover. As the title to a period of time, the Georgian period is as good as any other. Just a hundred years afterwards George III died, and the Fourth George reigned only ten years, till 1830. In regard to the clock-case, the century was not filled with great changes. The writers of memoirs of the time--Selwyn and Walpole, Lord Hervey and Fanny Burney--furnish many sidelights on the Georgian period. Thackeray in his _Four Georges_ illuminated the Georgian era with more vigour than Early Victorians could stand. The eighteenth century is repellent by its stupidity and coarseness, by its insipidity and dulness, and yet it is relieved by a continuity of extraordinary forcefulness and freshness of vigour, undimmed in our naval and military history, unequalled in our art and letters. The following names occur to prove this suggestion: Clive and Warren Hastings, Rodney and Nelson, Moore and Wellington, Reynolds and Gainsborough, Dr. Johnson and Burke. We lost, but not for ever, the love of the American Colonies for the great Mother Country, whose tongue is a common heritage, and whose democratic freedom is akin to that across the Atlantic, and this through the obstinacy of a German monarch thwarting the will of the people. "The first and second Georges were not Englishmen, and therefore were not popular, and excited no enthusiasm in their subjects, but were simply tolerated as being better than the Popish Stuarts"; so says Lord Macaulay in his _Essay on Chatham_. It is ludicrous to learn that Walpole, beefy Englishman that he was, spoke no French, and had, as George I spoke no English, to conduct State affairs in Latin. What a stratum of misunderstanding on which to rest a people's destinies! [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Maker, Henderson (London). Date, about 1770. Height, 9 ft. Width, 1 ft. 8-1/2 in. Depth, 11 in.] =The Stability of the "Grandfather" Clock.=--The long-case clock had become a piece of furniture. It was of marquetry decoration, in keeping with contemporary tables and cabinets, or it was lacquered in rich colours in "Chinese taste" to keep touch with the Oriental parlours. But concurrent with the age of marquetry and lacquer was the great walnut period. The delightful veneer of burr-walnut in Queen Anne days in cabinets and chests of drawers and other important pieces of furniture did not neglect the clock-case. The gnarled figure of the walnut was essentially a proper decoration to apply to the clock-case. The long-case clock had not only become acclimatized, but it had become thoroughly English. The simplicity of its construction, and its proud record as a perfect timekeeper, gave it the supremacy over all other clocks. English clockmakers, with the fine sense of practical utility which governed their employment of mechanism, had reached a point when further inventions became more of scientific use than popular. The "grandfather" clock has no equal within its limits. It runs for eight days. Its construction is so simple that when needing repair it need not be sent to a specialist. It has no delicate parts to confound the provincial maker. Hence it has lasted two centuries and more as a standard English clock. There is, too, a certain lovableness about the "grandfather" clock. The popular term suggests this. It is the heritage of the poor. The "grandfather" clock of the yeomanry has passed down through many generations. Indeed, the love of it as an article of furniture has, in many instances, endowed it with a value far greater than it possesses. =The Burr-walnut Period.=--Veneer had become an established technique. Woods with fine figure served as panels laid on wood of lesser rarity or decorative importance. Oak was a good foundation for walnut veneer. Earlier, as we have seen, walnut was laid as a ground on oak and the marquetry design laid on the walnut. But in the burr-walnut period carefully selected walnut sheets were employed to decorate surfaces of bureaus and clock-cases. The age of walnut is synonymous with the days of Hogarth. Burr-walnut clock-cases are not so frequently found as could be wished. The burr-walnut panels are marked in a series of knot-like rings, obtained from the gnarled roots of the walnut-tree. The peculiar pleasing effect of this and other mottled walnut is heightened by the mellow effect time always gives to these walnut examples, which cannot be produced with any appreciable success by modern imitators. =Thomas Chippendale--The Mahogany Period.=--There is no doubt that the name of Thomas Chippendale will always be representative of the mahogany period of English furniture. But there were other makers contemporary with him who did splendid work. The Chippendales, Thomas the father and Thomas the son, picture-frame carver and cabinet-maker at Worcester, migrated together to London in 1729. The son, Thomas, published his _Director_ in 1754. He was the leading cabinet-maker and designer of his day, and his day lasted till about 1780, when his son, Thomas Chippendale the third entered into partnership with Haig, and the firm became Chippendale and Haig, who also in turn produced magnificent work. Close upon the heels of the Chippendales was the firm of Hepplewhite. The brothers Adam, architectural designers and creators of furniture suitable for its new classic environment, began to make their impress upon interior decoration and on furniture, as they had upon Princes Street, Edinburgh, the Quays at Dublin, and the Adelphi in London, with their patent stucco mouldings and festoons. [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Maker, Thomas Wagstaff (Gracechurch Street, London). Date, about 1780. Height, 8 ft. 2 in. Width, 1 ft. 7-1/2 in. Depth, 10 in. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Movement by Stephen Rimbault, case by Robert Adam. Date, about 1775. (_By courtesy of Messrs. A. B. Daniell & Sons._)] Accordingly, the student must bear in mind these great movements taking place during the second half of our Georgian period, viz. from about 1740 to the year 1791, at which date appeared the first edition of Sheraton's _Cabinet Maker and Upholsterers Drawing Book_, to herald another style, blended with the Adam, but departing from it at important points. In examining clock-cases of this prolific and restless period, it should be of exceptional interest to the connoisseur to show how unnamed cabinet-makers in London and in the provinces attempted to employ, with varying degrees of skill, the designs promulgated broadcast by these great teachers of design and construction in cabinet work. =Innovations of Form.=--As exemplifying the variations of the mahogany period clock-case, we illustrate several types showing reflections of the great impulses that were in the air. The clock, illustrated (p. 239), has a case of Spanish mahogany with fine figure. The hood is enriched with fretwork, and with elegantly moulded door, and the superstructure as a pediment exhibits the Chinese style. The terminals are mahogany. The dial shows phases of the moon, and the movement is by a provincial maker, E. Cockey, Warminster. Of the year 1770 is another mahogany clock with handsomely carved frieze and elaborate terminals. The love for architectural ornament is seen in the hood, and in the pillars on the waist below on each side of the panelled door. The base is decorated with a panel, in mahogany of fine figure. The feet are beginning to become more pronounced. The movement of this is by Henderson, of London, and its height is 9 feet (illustrated p. 133). Another clock, by Thomas Wagstaff, in date about 1780, exhibits a less grandiose appearance. The height is less, being only 8 feet 2 inches. The pediment of the hood reverts to types which are often found decorated with lacquer work, and the brass terminals are of similar character to those of an earlier period. It is noticeable that the base continues to show increased ornament in the feet, with an added scroll (illustrated p. 137). As showing another type of clock with magnificent decoration we illustrate (p. 143) the hood of a long-case musical clock, attributed to Rimbault, who was especially noteworthy for his musical movements, and his cases were decorated by Zoffany. An examination of this shows the detailed character of the painted work. It is Italian in conception, and quite in keeping with other work of Zoffany. [Illustration: TOP PORTION OF MUSICAL LONG-CASE CLOCK. Richly decorated with painting attributed to Zoffany. Maker, no signature, but suggestive of the work of Rimbault. (_By courtesy of Messrs. Harris & Sinclair, Dublin._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. Eight-day movement. Mahogany case inlaid with satinwood shell designs and banding. Maker, James Hatton, London (1800-12). Brick design in base in Chippendale manner. (_By courtesy of Messrs. D. Sherratt & Co., Chester._)] Another illustration (p. 139) shows the typical classical style. The case was designed by Robert Adam, and is in date about 1775. The dial becomes circular, and owes certain of its decoration to French form, although it is surmounted by a Greek urn, but the flying garlands betray it. The waist becomes tapered, terminating in a base of graceful proportions and reticent ornament. The fluted work and the scroll indicate the design of the architect. One can imagine such a chaste clock finding itself in the cold, un-English environment of Ken Wood, or on the staircase of some learned society, with candelabra of bronze of classic design, with hoofs as feet and with the Roman lamp throwing out its modern flame. The movement of this clock is by Stephen Rimbault, of Great St. Andrew Street, about 1775. Another example of a clock by James Hatton, London (about 1810), exhibits several new features. Its case is of rich feathered mahogany, inlaid in the Sheraton manner with satinwood shells, banding, and herring-bone stringing. The hood is massive and reverts to an earlier period, and the ornament of the base, in brickwork style, was known to have been employed by Chippendale. The finials are brass. The dial is brass, and in the lunette are painted a ship and a cottage (illustrated p. 145). For the continuation of these styles one must turn to the provincial makers (Chapter VIII), showing a variety of decoration and touches of incongruity in style and anachronism in date--a glorious intermingling of contemporary with bygone features, affording unequalled delight to the collector. In the case of provincial made furniture, whole districts carried on fashions for a quarter of a century or longer after they had been forgotten in London, and the clock-case is no exception. Included in this period is the fine clock (illustrated p. 149) by Robert Molyneux and Sons, London, 1825, now in the Bristol Museum. It has one main dial recording minutes, and two smaller dials showing hours and seconds respectively. The main dial has two hands, which indicate Greenwich mean time and Bristol time. The type is known as a "regulator" clock, with the twenty-four-hour dial and other additions appertaining to the astronomical clock. The illustration shows the time to be: Greenwich, 11.42 (i.e. 42 minutes past 11 o'clock); Bristol, 11.32 (i.e. 10 minutes difference). The clock has a mercury pendulum. There was a somewhat similar clock constructed by Dell, of Bristol. [Illustration: LONG-CASE REGULATOR CLOCK. Movement by Robert Molyneux & Sons, London. 1825. Three dials, one showing hours and one seconds, the great dial showing Greenwich time and Bristol time. ENLARGEMENT OF DIAL. The two hands on large or minute dial show difference of 10 minutes 22 seconds between Greenwich and Bristol time. (_By permission of Bristol Museum and Art Gallery._)] CHAPTER VI THE EVOLUTION OF THE LONG-CASE CLOCK Its inception--Its Dutch origin--The changing forms of the hood, the waist, and the base--The dial and its character--The ornamentation of the spandrel--The evolution of the hands. From 1680 to 1850 is a long period of time for a particular style of timepiece to run without interruption or without displacement by any other fashion. It may naturally be supposed that during this period changes have occurred in form, in decoration, and in a score of minor details delightful to the collector and interesting to the student of form in design. The inception of the long case was due to the common use of the seconds pendulum. This required a certain space to swing in, and the pendulum was of a certain length. This undue length does not seem to have been necessary in the wall clock of the so-called "Act of Parliament" type, and as Lord Grimthorpe, the constructor of "Big Ben" at Westminster, says: "Spring clocks are generally resorted to for the purpose of saving length; for as clocks are generally made in England, it is impossible to make a weight clock capable of going a week, without either a case nearly 4 feet high, or else the weights so heavy as to produce a great friction on the arbour of the great wheel. But this arises from nothing but the heaviness of the wheels and the badness of the pinions used in most English clocks, as is amply proved by the fact that the American and Austrian clocks go a week with smaller weights and much less fall than English ones, and the American ones with no assistance from fine workmanship for the purpose of diminishing friction, as they are remarkable for their want of what is called 'finish' in the machinery, on which so much time and money is wasted in English clock-work." =Its Dutch Origin.=--As we have before explained, the marquetry case came straight from Holland. Our "grandfather" was a Dutchman, as far as clock-cases go. The Dutchman Huygens is credited with having been the first to employ the pendulum in the mechanism of the clock. Leonardo da Vinci, that stupendous genius, left notes as to his study of the pendulum (1452-1520), and Galileo came with his later studies (1564-1642). It is a disputed point as to when and where the pendulum came into being. We must accept Huygens (1629-95) as the practical exponent of the pendulum, although not the original discoverer of its properties. But at any rate, the long-case clock may be generally accepted as coincident with the use of the long or seconds pendulum. And to Holland we must look for this habitual usage of the long wooden case to protect the weights and the pendulum. Among the designs of Marot there are drawings of long-case clocks certainly more ornate than those usually associated with such an early period (this was about 1660 to 1680), and French Louis XIV and Louis XV tall clocks are built on these lines, and Chippendale at a later period found Marot an exceedingly prolific master of design to study. =The Changing Forms of the Hood, the Waist, and the Base.=--The evolution of form in one class of object from one period to another is of exceptional interest. In furniture, in china, in glass, and in silver, the progression of forms is so marked as to give practically a date to each piece. The gate-leg table can be traced from three to twelve legs with double gates. The chair, from its straight oaken back and massive arms to the tapering legs and curves of the satinwood period, runs through stages as definitely marked as though the makers had signed the pieces. Now the stretcher is low, next it becomes higher, then it disappears altogether; or the splats in the back are single, then double, with cane panels, and then again upholstered. The top rail of the chair affords similar delectation to the connoisseur of form changing for a definite reason. The clock-case underwent equal changes in character, not only in its decoration, as we have seen, in marquetry, in lacquer, and in veneers of burr-walnut and mahogany, but its proportions varied. At first, coming as it did in the walnut period, the hood had turned rails, in keeping with the turned rails of the chairs of the time. The hood was square and small, the waist was more slender, and the base in proportion. During the marquetry and the lacquered periods the hood began to grow larger and more dominant. It had a domed superstructure, and the finials or metal terminals were more ornamental and grew in number (see illustrations, pp. 133, 117). The massive character of the early mahogany period, culminating with Chippendale, had its effect on the long clock-case. The hood had a pagoda-like edifice in the Chinese style (see illustration, p. 239), or it had the woodcarver's adoption of architecture, as in the crest of the hood (see illustrations, pp. 145, 117). The rail in the hood had become a Corinthian pillar, and later a pilaster. At the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth century it had a new form: when it was turned mahogany it stood away from the case, as an ornament apart, rather than a supporting pillar (see illustration, p. 233). This is a noticeable feature in country-made clocks of this period. At first there was no door in the case. But on the introduction of the door, its panelled form commenced to make its progression in form in accompaniment with the other features of the case. It was square, in simple forms, with square hoods. In 1730 it took the form somewhat similar to the shape of the lowest marquetry panel, as shown in the clock by Jas. Leicester (see Frontispiece). It really follows the chair-backs of a period of some ten or fifteen years' prior date. It is an instance of the clock-case slightly lagging behind contemporary furniture design. The shapes of these panels resemble the chair-backs of the James II, William and Mary, and the Queen Anne period. In some instances the simple form becomes taller, terminating in a small semicircle. The Sussex iron fire-backs of the seventeenth century show similar forms of panel. By 1770 the panel had lost its lunette or semi-circular form at top, and in outline resembled a Chippendale chair-back. The evolution is easily traceable. A similar fashion is observed in tombstones in old country churchyards. By the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, especially in certain North of England type clock-cases, notably Lancashire and Cheshire, these panels are Gothic in character (see illustration, p. 231). Following French fashion, in some late examples there is a glass panel (see illustration, p. 275). The base undergoes certain changes, though in a lesser degree. Sometimes plain, sometimes with a plinth, sometimes with feet. Dutch long clock-cases have great wooden balls as feet. In the Chippendale period the plinth has a suggestion of Chinese character. In later types the feet are more pronounced, and the base has an ornamental panel in the Sheraton period with a delicate marquetry inlay of simple character. In Sheraton's _Design Book_ there are two clocks showing the base further ornamented by turned pillars similar to the hood. The growing importance of these feet and their frequent use, especially in ornate examples, are shown in the specimens illustrated (pp. 133, 137). =The Dial and its Character.=--When only one hand was in use, it was obviously not necessary to denote the minutes. Later, the minutes were engraved on the dial to meet the use of the minute hand; sometimes these were in a circle inside the hour numerals, and later they were put on the outer edge, outside the hour numerals. The hour numerals are almost invariably of Roman style, and the figure IV has by universal custom been engraved IIII, though there are examples of a late period with IV which are of country make. Similarly, Arabic figures have also been used. The illustration of a fine dial, of eighteenth century period, showing the various phases of the iron industry at Ashburnham, in Sussex, has these figures; this is a country-made clock (p. 243). The dials were brass, and the hour numerals appeared on a circle of brass plated with silver. Iron dials were used later, in the decadent period, and both numerals and floral designs were painted on the enamelled surface in lieu of engraved and ornamental metal-work, and often a landscape or figure subject occupied the lunette. The lunette form followed the square face, and sometimes the maker put his name in this lunette, and later below the centre of the clock, and later again not at all on the dial. The lunette form no doubt determined the shape of the panel of the door in the case below, to which we have previously alluded. The illustration (p. 159) shows these forms. The dial, by Henry Massy (1680), has the name between the numerals VI and VII. The lunette form in a dial by John Draper (1703) has the name of the maker in a circular disc above the hour circle. [Illustration: BRASS DIAL BY HENRY MASSY, LONDON. ABOUT 1680. Clock with usual eight-day movement. (An enlargement of this dial is illustrated p. 163). (_By courtesy of Edward Campbell, Esq., Glasgow._)] [Illustration: BRASS DIAL BY JOHN DRAPER, LONDON. ABOUT 1703. Spandrels exhibiting later floral style of decoration. (_At the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York._)] Enlargements of the Henry Massy dial and of another by John Bushman show the character of engraving and the position of the maker's name (illustrated p. 163). In regard to the engraving put on the dials of these old clocks, it is not impossible that William Hogarth, when he was an apprentice at Master Ellis Gamble's shop, at the sign of the "Golden Angel" in Cranbourn Street, Leicester Fields, did some of this work. We know that Thomas Bewick engraved clock dials when an apprentice at Newcastle-upon-Tyne (see p. 215). The last form of the long-case dial is circular, an unusual type in vogue during the closing decades of the eighteenth century, belonging to the classic and French styles and in no way diverting the fashion of the main stream of case-makers. Concerning the use of glass for the protection of the dial in the long-case clock, it was in use in coaches for the first time in 1667. According to Pepys' _Diary_ we learn: "Another pretty thing was my Lady Ashly's speaking of the bad qualities of the glass coaches, among others the flying open of the doors upon any great shake; but another, my Lady Peterborough, being in her glass coach with the glass up, and seeing a lady pass by in a coach whom she would salute, the glass was so clear that she thought it had been open, and so ran her head through the glass." At first the hood of the clock lifted off and the glass was fixed; later the glass was framed in a door, and subsequently the hood slid off, which fashion is found in all but the earliest examples. The term "dial" is a survival of the word "sundial." Like all innovations, there may have been those who preferred the old character, or it may have been left to Charles Lamb, lover of past and faded memories, to ruminate on garden gods in the Temple: "What an antique air had the now almost effaced sundials, with their moral inscriptions, seeming coevals with that Time which they measured, and to take their revelations of its flight immediately from heaven, holding correspondence with the fountain of light.... The shepherd, 'carved it out quaintly in the sun,' and turning philosopher by the very occupation, provided it with mottoes more touching than tombstones." Elia, Shakespearean scholar that he was, could not have forgotten the melancholy Jaques with his:-- I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool; a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool; Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms and yet a motley fool. "Good morrow, fool," quoth I. "No, sir," quoth he, "Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune": And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely: "It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale." [Illustration: ENLARGEMENT OF DIAL. Showing maker's name, John Bushman, London. About 1680. From lantern clock illustrated as Frontispiece.] [Illustration: ENLARGEMENT OF DIAL. Showing maker's name, Hen. Massy, London, and square dial indicating date of month. About 1680. From long-case clock illustrated p. 159.] It is not probable that the "fool i' the forest" drew from his pocket a sundial; it was, no doubt, a pocket-clock, or, in other words, a watch. The art of dial-making is a subtle one. It is true that some are pleasing in their balance and others are displeasing, which sets us wondering what rules there are to govern the symmetrical arrangement of circles and figures and their co-related hands. There is an air of solemn grandeur about a fine dial; its dignity is as unruffled as the march of Time itself. The old masters of dial construction had the art of spacing as completely under control as had Caxton the great typographer in the balance of his printed page. What Lord Grimthorpe has said[3] about the dials of turret clocks applies in its principles to the dials of domestic clocks. "The figures are generally made much too large. People have a pattern dial painted; and if the figures are not as long as one-third of the radius, and therefore occupying, with the minutes, about two-thirds of the area of the dial, they fancy they are not large enough to be read at a distance; whereas the fact is, the more the dial is occupied by figures, the less distinct they are, and the more difficult it is to distinguish the position of the hands, which is what people want to see, and not to read the figures, which may very well be replaced by twelve large spots.... The rule which has been adopted, after various experiments, as the best for the proportions of the dial is this: Divide the radius into three, and leave the inner two-thirds clear and flat, and of some colour forming a strong contrast to the colour of the hands--black or dark blue if they are gilt, and white if they are black. The figures, if there are any, should occupy the next two-thirds of the remaining third, and the minutes be set in the remainder near the edge." [3] _Encyclopædia Britannica_ (ninth edition), vol. vi. =The Ornamentation of the Spandrel.=--There are some interesting types of ornamentation of the space between the hour circle and the square outlines of the dial. The neat filling of spandrels offered problems to the architect and woodworker long before the clockmaker found similar difficulties. It is not easy exactly to fill a triangle with a design that is pleasing. Some of the best examples are found in Italian lettering, old sixteenth-century woodcuts of the letter L. In English clocks, the spandrel in the lantern clock about 1670 had a plain cherub head, as simple in character as the fine pearwood carving from a Buckinghamshire church we illustrate of a slightly earlier period, still rich with unimpaired colour (p. 167). German clocks had this device of the cherub's head, but not in the spandrel. At the British Museum there is one example with this cherub-head as a base ornament at the foot of the clock, which rests on it. This is in date 1600. [Illustration: ENGLISH WOOD-CARVING. Painted and gilded. Early seventeenth century. (_In collection of author._)] [Illustration: BRASS SPANDREL. From dial of clock by Henry Massy (London), 1680, illustrated p. 159.] The design of the cherub with outspread wings was common enough in Italy, where children have served as models since Donatello. It became established as a form and was a favourite embellishment of the English stone-carver in the seventeenth century. Horace Walpole protested at its abuse by the contemporaries of Christopher Wren, and it can be found outside St. Paul's Cathedral and in many other London churches and over late Stuart doorways. It was, therefore, nothing new; it was a pleasing spandrel ornament which appealed to the clockmaker as suitable to clock dials. It naturally received floriated additions, and both in its simpler form and in this later and more elaborate variation it appears on the spandrels of clock dials (see p. 167). It is interesting to find the clockmaker so conservative. Once the cherub found its way on to clocks, there it remained. It is in the clock at Windsor Castle which Henry VIII gave to Anne Boleyn, formerly at Strawberry Hill before Queen Victoria purchased it. In its first form on the spandrel it practically followed the simple woodcarver's design we illustrate, but with this difference: the triangle to be filled by the clockmaker in his spandrels, at each of the four corners of his dial, was exactly opposite to that of the woodcarver or the stone-carver where he made a bracket. The triangle in these cases stood on its apex. The clockmaker's triangle stood on its base. Hence it will be observed that a straight line drawn along the head of the cherub (p. 167) finds itself level with the top of the two wings. The clockmaker modified this in his metal spandrel ornaments. He dropped the wings, so that the top of the cherub's head is the apex of the triangle and the tips of the two wings the base. Later, the head, although still retained, was enveloped in floriated ornament and the cherub became unrecognizable. But the triangle is well filled. We next come to a most interesting stage, coincident in time with the rebuilding of Hampton Court. The "Glorious Revolution" had become established and James II sent packing. The two cherubs holding up the Protestant crown would seem by its prevalence at this period to be a sort of symbolic record of events that were happening. Huguenot and Dutch metal-workers put their thoughts into form, and we find this William and Mary Protestant emblem on the clock-face (see p. 171). But we also find it on the stretcher of the walnut chair of the period (as illustrated, p. 171). Nor is this all. Lambeth and Bristol delft dishes contribute their pæan in honour of the House of Orange. On some a crown is found, with the date 1690, the sole decoration of a plate some 9 inches in diameter. On others a crown is shown on a cushion, with the sceptre and orb beside it. These are all contemporary with other English delft dishes bearing crudely painted portraits of William and Mary crowned. Cardinal Wolsey's coat of arms, as shown at Hampton Court, was two cherubs supporting a cardinal's hat. One can imagine that Queen Mary, backed by little Christopher Wren, brought Daniel Marot and Grinling Gibbons to put an end to all this. Accordingly, if one pays a pilgrimage to Hampton Court one sees the carved angels triumphantly holding up the Protestant crown to supplant Wolsey's former insignia of arrogant splendour under the old religion. [Illustration: DETAIL OF STRETCHER OF WALNUT CHAIR. Of William and Mary period.] [Illustration: BRASS SPANDREL OF DIAL OF CLOCK. Showing design of angels supporting crown.] In regard to the long continuance of this design, it is interesting to observe that it appears in plates attributed to the Lowestoft factory. As a matter of fact, such plates were made in Holland to the order of some shipmaster. They usually celebrate the wedding of some persons in the district, whose names are still known. They are decorated in blue, and have two cherubs supporting a heart, over which is a crown. There is one dated 1755, inscribed "Henry and Mary Quinton, Yarmouth, Norfolk." Its Dutch origin is proven by the orthography with the two dots over the letters _y_, and the misplacing of other letters: "Henrÿ and Marÿ Q[.u]inton, Yarmo[.u]th, nor ff: olk. 1755." After the two cherubs on the clock spandrel came further floriated designs minus the cherub's head. This, later, disappeared, and the spandrel had only a matted surface, in contrast to the rest of the dial. This in turn disappeared when the dial departed from its former glory of a silvered hour circle and became a sheet of iron painted according to taste. We give examples of this--the Sussex dial depicting the iron works (p. 243) and the provincial style with the lunette painted with a figure subject (p. 249). The end of the story is the china dial of the painted Hindeloopen Dutch clocks beloved of our childhood, with weights and chains and other pleasing mechanism. Here the nineteenth century Dutch clock joins hands with the old wall clock of the seventeenth century, Dame Fashion having pirouetted round the dial, trifling with all collectors in "the whirligig of time." =The Evolution of the Hands.=--The early examples of the long-case clock or of the lantern clock with one hand show a fine rich design in metal-work in the hand itself. It was brass, often gilded, or iron wrought with great skill and beauty. At the advent of the minute hand it was made in character with its fellow. At first the dial had a _fleur-de-lis_, and later a slightly more floriated use of this emblem on the hour circle between each hour. In old examples the hand, when it came opposite this decoration, was in keeping with the _fleur-de-lis_ as though it were part of the design of the hand. It is only a fancy, but, as no design comes by accident, it is very probable that such was the idea of the old dial engraver. The study of hands is exceptionally interesting; they run through a regular series of styles, as varied as the ornamentation of the cases. Some of the designs are of exquisite balance as specimens of delicate metal-work, in which the English have always been proficient. Their character can be gauged by the expert clockmaker or connoisseur to such a nicety that it can be seen at once if the clock has its original hands or not. Those of my readers who wish to pursue this subject will find the hands adequately treated and well illustrated in _English Domestic Clocks_, by Mr. Herbert Cesinsky and Mr. Malcolm R. Webster, a volume which no student of clocks should fail to consult as a practical and authoritative work. In regard to hands, it is curious that the fashion of placing a minute hand to travel around the dial with the hour hand has established a method of reckoning time in a popular manner not in accordance with scientific exactitude. The eye glances at the dial and sees that the minute hand has so many minutes to travel _before_ reaching the next hour. We accordingly say, for instance, it is twenty minutes to four or ten minutes to four. On one half of the dial we have acted quite scientifically in saying it is ten minutes past three or half-past three, but the moment the point of the half hour is reached we act in a different manner. We never speak or think of four thirty-five, four forty, or four fifty, unless we have to consult the railway time-table. This all comes about by reason of the minute hand being placed as it is. In clocks with the minute hand having a separate dial of its own no such unscientific error would have arisen. The second hand in such clocks travels around the dial and points outside the hour numerals. CHAPTER VII THE BRACKET CLOCK The term "bracket clock" a misnomer--The great series of English table or mantel clocks--The evolution of styles--Their competition with French elaboration. Long-case clocks came into being when the long or "royal" pendulum required protection by having a wooden case. It was possible to have a short pendulum, and clocks intended for table use had a short pendulum. The long pendulum swings exactly in a second, and for it to do this it must be of a certain length, determined by physical laws followed according to mechanical formulæ by the scientific clockmaker, too complex to be given here in detail. It may be interesting to record that the length of a seconds pendulum--that is, one requiring one second to move from extreme to extreme--is 39.1398 inches in the latitude of Greenwich and is of different lengths in differing latitudes. =The Term "Bracket Clock" a Misnomer.=--In the old form of clock--the brass lantern type, weight-driven--it is obvious that when the weights and chains were suspended below the case the clock could not stand on a table. Such clocks had to hang on a wall, as so many old engravings show, or they were placed on a bracket against a wall, with the weights hanging beneath. With the advent of the pendulum new theories were in the air. At its first use as a short pendulum it was placed in front of the dial. When the seconds pendulum was recognized as a scientific regulator, the length precluded clocks in which it was employed being used as table clocks. It was a distinct departure from miniature timepieces as decorative domestic ornaments. Scientific it undoubtedly was, and as such it commenced a new development in the direction of astronomical clocks and scientific regulators of time. The table clock had to pursue another course. It belongs to another school of mechanism. The weight-driven clock strove to arrive at exactitude and scientific accuracy. The other clock, like the watch, attempted economy of space in conjunction with the maximum of exactitude such economy would allow. It essayed to fulfil certain conditions. It was easily portable, it could stand on a table, or more often on the mantelpiece, a place it can almost claim as its own in the English home by tradition. The watch with similar aims taxed the art of the maker to enable it to be easily carried on the person. These two classes of timepiece, the portable clock and more readily portable watch, were spring-driven. The development of this mechanical principle, running parallel with the evolution of the weight-driven clock, arrived at great scientific accuracy, as exemplified by the nautical chronometer and by the modern machine-made watch, whose timekeeping qualities are remarkable. In fact, it may be said that the table or portable clock and the watch together have dethroned the weight-driven clock as a domestic clock. [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. LATE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. Maker, Sam Watson (Coventry). Date, 1687. Height, 12 in. Width, 9-1/4 in. Depth, 6-3/4 in. Maker, Joseph Knibb (Oxon). Date, 1690. Height, 12 in. Width, 8 in. Depth, 5 in. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. EARLY EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Maker, Thomas Loomes, at Ye Mermaid in Lothbury. Date, 1700. Height, 1 ft. 3-1/2 in. Width, 11-1/2 in. Depth, 7-1/4 in. Maker, Thomas Johnson, Gray's Inn Passage. Date, about 1730. Height, 1 ft. 2 in. Width, 7 in. Depth, 5 in.] =The Great Series of English Table or Mantel Clocks.=--To the beginner the appearance of an old table clock has not the same enticement as a brass lantern clock with its obvious claim to pre-modern form. It may even be said that the tyro clings reverently to his worship of the "grandfather" clock as something sacred. With their steady, uninterrupted progress from the middle seventeenth century for two hundred years, it is remarkable how conservative these table clocks have been to a comparatively fixed form. They stand in solidarity of workmanship and perfection of mechanical detail as exhibiting the superlative character of English clockmaking. During that period, in long procession, generation after generation, they have upheld the dignity of the science of horology as practised by English clockmakers, whose craftsmanship and perfection of exact detail deservedly won a reputation on the Continent and in America. An English clock of the finest period holds few superiors and very few equals in the world for reliability and exactitude. "_Bajo la palabra de un Inglés_" (On the word of an Englishman) is a proverbial saying in the Spanish States of South America, and such an honourable appellation can equally be applied to the said Englishman's clock, upon which great clockmakers have proudly inscribed their names as guarantee of its fidelity and truth. From Thomas Tompion in the days of Charles II to Benjamin Vulliamy in the days of George IV the series has been unbroken. We find table clocks by all the leading makers of long-case clocks, so that whatever competition lay between the principles of the one and the principles of the other was confined to the workshop of the clockmaker who set himself to master the intricacies of two styles. It was a friendly rivalry which is found to exist in other fields of human action. Disraeli the politician wrote novels; Macaulay the historian published verse; Seymour Haden laid down his lancet as a doctor to take up the etching-needle to become one of the greatest modern etchers. =The Evolution of Styles.=--In the examples illustrated, the slow progression of types slightly differing from each other is readily seen. The late seventeenth century exhibits types of reticent form, with ebonized case, and having a brass basket-top decoration surmounted by a handle showing its use as a portable clock. This handle is retained in the carriage clock of to-day--a clock which finds a prototype in the carriage clock of Marie Antoinette. In height these clocks were about 12 inches and in width about 9 inches. At this period brass oblong ornaments were affixed to the case, a detail which disappeared with the next later type. [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. MID-EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Maker, John Page (Ipswich). Date, 1740. Height, 24 in, Width, 12-1/4 in. Depth, 5-1/4 in. Maker, Godfrey Poy (London). Date, 1745. Height, 26 in. Width, 11 in. Depth, 6-3/4. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY (ABOUT 1760). Maker, Johnson (London). Height, 1 ft. 5 in. Width, 9-1/4 in. Depth, 5-1/4 in. Maker, Thomas Hill (Fleet Street, London). Height, 1 ft. 9 in. Width, 1 ft. Depth, 7 in.] The clock on the left (illustrated p. 181) is by Sam Watson, of Coventry, and is dated 1687. It has the basket top, reminiscent in decorative treatment of the metal fret found in lantern brass clocks of contemporary date. It will be observed that these clocks have two hands. The spandrels of this and the adjacent clock have the single cherub's-head brass ornament. The latter clock, on the right, is by Joseph Knibb, of Oxford, and is in date 1690. The basket decoration is absent and the top is of simpler form. These two examples indicate that fine work was done in the provinces. By the end of the reign of William III the table clock had grown taller. The example illustrated (p. 183), by Thomas Loomes, is 15-1/2 inches high and 11-1/2 inches wide. It will be noticed that the basket top was still being made, and from now onwards the four turned brass terminals at the top became a feature and lasted for a century. By the first quarter of the eighteenth century a lunette had been added, as shown in the clock on the same page by Thomas Johnson, in date 1730. From this date feet were almost always employed. Similar feet embellished the long clock-case from a slightly later period throughout the century, and are still in evidence in examples made as late as the first half of the nineteenth century. In the 1730 clock by Thomas Johnson, the only brass ornament on the case is the escutcheon to the lock, a feature which, as time went on, lost its prominence and became more reticent. In the reign of George II the clock again grew in stature. Its portability was evidently not a necessity. It cannot be now said to resemble a carriage clock. Chamber clocks became definite objects of decorative utility as part of the domestic fitments of a room. The architectural ornament becomes pronounced, and there is a massive grandeur about the cases which suited the early Georgian mansions and Hogarthian furniture of the period. These eight-day striking and alarum clocks had become a feature of the English home. The fine provincial example by John Page, of Ipswich, is 24 inches high and 12-1/4 inches wide. In addition to the four terminals there is a fifth at the apex on a column with supporting metal ornament. The adjacent clock by Godfrey Poy, in date 1745, has at the apex a small figure of Ajax. In both these examples there are rings at the side as ornaments, or possibly for use to lift the clock in lieu of the older style of the handle at the top (p. 187). In the reign of George III (1760-1820) the table clock shows greater variety. It was a restless time, filled with wars and political struggles--a reign notable for the American Declaration of Independence on 4th July 1776, for the beginning of the French Revolution in 1789, for the "darkest hour in English history," the planned invasion of England by French and Spanish fleets, and contemplated invasion of Ireland by the Dutch fleet. In this reign, too, there came what may be termed the industrial revolution due to the introduction of machinery and steam-power. The growing wealth of the middle classes demanded more luxurious furniture. Merchants and manufacturers, shipowners and traders with India and the East, Lancashire cotton-spinners and mill-owners founded a new plutocracy. Bristol and Liverpool traders in "blackbirds," as the iniquitous slave trade was impiously termed, amassed fortunes. Although Pitt advocated the emancipation of slaves, under his rule "the English slave trade more than doubled." [Illustration: AMERICAN CLOCK. With case of fine design in form of lyre, richly gilded and surmounted by eagle. Makers, Savin & Dyer (Boston). 1780-1800. (_By courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York._)] [Illustration: STAFFORDSHIRE COPPER LUSTRE WARE VASE. With decoration in Chinese style, blue and white, and painted clock dial with no works. Early nineteenth century. The cottager's desire to possess a mantel clock satisfied. (_In collection of author._)] Two George III clocks, in date 1760, by Johnson and by Thomas Hill, are illustrated (p. 189). One shows the recurrence of an old form with the handle at the top of the case, having only as a new feature delicate brackets--a female bust, suggesting in miniature the figure-head of some Indiaman. It is a pleasant ornament one would like to have seen more often adopted. The adjacent clock, by Thomas Hill, evidently derives its design from France, and is a forerunner, in its departure from the square case, of the style which Sheraton, in his adaptation from the French, made at a later date. =Competition with French Elaboration.=--During the latter decades of the eighteenth and the opening years of the nineteenth centuries, the influx of French fashions had a considerable influence on the furniture designers of this country. What Chippendale had commenced, Sheraton continued, each according to his point of view. So great was the effect that there is actually an English Empire period entirely dependent on the classic interpretation of the French school. To treat of French clocks would occupy a space that is denied in this outline study of English work. But that they are of paramount importance cannot be denied. The French craftsman, as he always did, realized the possibilities of his subject. His cases are elaborate and imaginative in conception. His fertility of invention is remarkable. On the whole it must be admitted that the case is the weakest part of the English clock. The case-maker never quite realized his opportunities. He might have done so much better. There is a stability and solid, almost stolid, soberness that might have been lightened, so one thinks at times. But on the other hand, when the Frenchman is bad in design, his exuberance of ornament and headstrong imagination seem too lurid for a sober clock which only records ordinary time. This French influence was world-wide. By the courtesy of the authorities of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, an American clock is illustrated (p. 193), the makers being Savin and Dyer, of Boston. This is in date 1780 to 1800. It is of fine proportions, and the lyre ornament is kept in due reticence. As exemplifying the far-reaching effect that French design had on this country, we reproduce an interesting illustration of a cottager's clock of the early nineteenth century (p. 195). It is really a vase of earthenware made in Staffordshire. On one side is painted in blue a Chinese scene, on the other is a clock-face in imitation of a French dial. But the hands perpetually mark seventeen minutes past eight. In copper lustre-ware this vase with its sham dial served the cottager as something ornamental, although not useful. It is a replica in homely English earthenware of French _finesse_, a cottage echo of the vase-clocks of Sèvres in the apartments at Versailles. The cottager's desire to have a clock was satisfied by the Staffordshire potter. [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. LATE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Maker, Alexander Cumming (London). Date, 1770. Height, 1 ft. 2 in. Width, 8-1/4 in. Depth, 5-1/4 in. No maker's name. Date, about 1800. Height, 1 ft. 3-3/4 in. Width, 10-1/2 in. Depth, 6-1/4 in. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY. DATE, ABOUT 1805. Maker, Barraud (London). Height, 17 in. Width, 12 in. Depth, 6 in. Maker, Strowbridge (Dawlish). Height, 16 in. Width, 10 in. Depth, 6-1/2 in.] Many clocks of the last quarter of the eighteenth century show the lingering styles of the earlier decades. It is impossible to lay down any definite rule in furniture, in silver, or in old clocks, that in such a year a certain style ends. Approximately, one may determine periods and by close application discover slight indications of new styles beginning to take the town. Now and again one comes across examples a great many years behind the time, especially in provincial makers, where fashions in cases were not so frequently changed. Illustrated on p. 199 are two clocks; one, in date 1770, by Alexander Cumming, is only 14 inches in height; the other, 1800, having no maker's name, is 15-3/4 inches high. A new and very pleasing form is introduced. We see the dial in process of losing its lunette. It makes its ascent on the case to take its place as in later styles. This raising of the dial affected the top of the case, which became of circular form. The transitional period is shown by the ornament remaining in the right-hand clock in the lower spandrels. The case-maker had not quite assimilated the changing form. It is interesting to note that in both these clocks the handles of the early portable clock are reintroduced. At the beginning of the nineteenth century the circular dial had become established. An interesting transitional clock by Barraud (p. 201), in date 1805, shows that the case-maker was averse to parting with the lunette. He accordingly places the dial in the centre of the case and has a crescent-shaped ornament, with a design adapted by the metal-worker from the Chinese potter. Of the same date is a provincial clock by Strowbridge, of Dawlish. Here the maker has boldly adopted the circular top, and the result is a case of pleasing proportions. Restlessness of design characterized this period. The old square dial was rarely if ever used. The arched-top case is another form, as illustrated (p. 205), where the maker, Biddell, refrained from following the line of the circular dial in his case. The adjacent example, in date 1800 to 1815, shows the circular dial surmounting the pediment of the case. After its vicissitudes it has at length triumphed in becoming the dominant note in the design. As illustrating the varied attempts to make the table clock an imposing ornament and deal with its decoration in an elaborate manner, the fine clock in ebony case inlaid with blue and white Wedgwood medallions is a remarkable example (illustrated p. 207). An especially noteworthy feature in this clock is the beaded ornamentation around the dial and the medallions and the other portions of the case of cut steel. The series of table clocks illustrated should indicate to the reader the salient features of such clocks, which are sought after by collectors and carefully prized by those who love the fine work of the old English clockmakers. [Illustration: BRACKET CLOCKS. Maker, Biddell (London). Date, 1800. Enamel dial. Height, 1 ft. 8 in. Width, 10 in. Depth, 5-1/2 in. No name of maker. Date, 1810-15. Height, 1 ft. 7-3/4 in. Width, 1 ft. Depth, 5-1/2 in.] [Illustration: EBONY TABLE CLOCK. Inlaid with medallions of blue and white Wedgwood jasper ware. Enriched with mounted ornament of cut steel. (_By courtesy of City of Nottingham Museum and Art Gallery._)] CHAPTER VIII PROVINCIAL CLOCKS Their character--Names of clockmakers found on clocks in the provinces--The North of England: Newcastle-upon- Tyne--Yorkshire clockmakers: Halifax and the district--Liverpool and the district--The Midlands--The Home Counties--The West Country--Miscellaneous makers. A great deal of attention has been paid by collectors to clocks by well-known London makers and too little examination has been given to fine examples by those of the provinces. In the present chapter an attempt is made to fill a hiatus in this respect, and by the kindness of those interested in the various localities certain data are presented which may stimulate the student to continue his researches on the lines here indicated. The metropolis attracted noteworthy makers, but they had their origin and often their early training in the provinces. The following are among the great London clockmakers, but they were not Londoners. They come from all parts of the country. Joseph Knibb (about 1670) was an Oxfordshire man. The famous Thomas Tompion, born in 1638, came from Bedfordshire. George Graham (1673-1751) tramped to London from Cumberland. Thomas Earnshaw, who perfected the marine chronometer, his additions being still in use, was born at Ashton-under-Lyne in 1750 and served his apprenticeship there. Henry Jones, who was the pupil of Edward East, was the son of a vicar at Southampton. Charles II had a clock made by him. Thomas Mudge was the son of a schoolmaster and was born at Exeter in 1715. Another Exeter man was Jacob Lovelace, who took over thirty years to construct a remarkable clock. The celebrated John Harrison was the son of a carpenter on an estate at Pontefract. It was he who competed for the Government gratuity offered for a nautical timekeeper, for which he finally received £10,000, after repeated tests in voyages to the West Indies by himself and his son. We think of his early struggles, when he travelled up to London after he was forty, only to find that he had to return to the provinces and continue his vocation as clock-mender in ordinary and inventor extraordinary. There is a long-case clock with wooden wheels and pinions by him in the Guildhall Museum, London. The list is by no means complete. There was John Ellicott, who was born at Bodmin, and another Cornishman from the same town is John Arnold, who was apprenticed to his father, a watchmaker there. Arnold continued what Harrison had begun in the chronometer. We must not exclude the great Dr. Hooke, who was born at Freshwater, Isle of Wight, who invented the anchor escapement for clocks and contested the invention of the balance spring in watches with Huygens. =Names of Clockmakers found on Clocks in the Provinces.=--It has been suggested that in some cases the name of a local maker does not necessarily determine, when found on the dial or elsewhere, that such clock has been made by the person whose name it bears. It has also been advanced that the name of the owner was sometimes put on the dial. This last theory can be dismissed as being of so infrequent use as to be practically negligible in recording lists of makers. The other conjecture may possibly have sufficient truth in it to disconcert collectors of examples of local crafts. Of course, it is a statement that cannot be proved, nor can it be disproved. Presumably a clockmaker in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, when clockmaking was something more than selling or mending clocks that other people made, did not deliberately set up business and, in a small town where secrecy was impossible, make a practice of putting his name on work he did not execute. That he did not make all the parts himself is admitted. Had he done so, he would have had to be a chain-maker or a catgut-maker, a pulley-maker, a chaser of metal for his dials, a cabinet-maker for his cases, and so on down to his most minute screws. One might as well take similar objection to Sir Joshua Reynolds or Gainsborough that they did not extract their pigments from the natural vegetables or minerals, that they neglected to become proficient in manipulating hogs' bristles or camel-hair into brushes, or that they could not and did not make their own canvases or carve their own frames. It did happen that an old clock by one maker was sent to another for repair, and he made such extensive repairs to the movement that he felt himself justified in putting his own name to the clock in its new state. The owner would have had something to say to this interchange of names had there not been some justification for it. This practice, however, is not confined to the provinces, and we cannot charge the provincial maker with being wholly unscrupulous. Some purists in collecting have objected to the presence of a country maker's name stencilled on the dial, as being evidence it was not his handiwork. But this is not in itself a crime. It is far more likely that such a clock is of local make, and that being in a remote part it was not easy to get anyone to paint his name on the dial or engrave it. Had he had it made to order in a town surely his name would have been painted for him. In a measure, crudities of this nature and peculiarities not found in clocks from the great centres are hallmarks of genuineness. At the time of the passing of the Act in 1797 relating to the taxation of clocks and watches, the following places sent representatives to London to protest against this tax:-- Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Liverpool, Leicester, Derby, Bristol, Prescot, Coventry, and Edinburgh. Of these, Prescot (a few miles from Liverpool) and Coventry represented the watch industry. We may therefore fairly conclude that the other places represent the most noteworthy centres of clockmaking at that period. =The North of England: Newcastle-upon-Tyne.=--In regard to provincial makers, one wonders what 'prentice hands have gone to the making of the long cases. Did Thomas Chippendale, when he was working at his father's bench at Worcester, execute any of his early joinery and carving to embellish now forgotten clocks? Who can say? At Newcastle-upon-Tyne we are on surer foundation, for it is on record that Thomas Bewick, the wood-engraver, was apprenticed to Ralph Beilby, an engraver at Newcastle, on 1st October 1767 for seven years. His master's business lay in engraving crests and initials on watch seals, teaspoons, sugar-tongs, and other pieces of plate, and the numerals and ornaments on clock dials, together with the maker's name. Here, then, was young Bewick's 'prentice work--the master of white line on the wood block. Later, Bewick confessed to a friend that when engraving these clock dials his hands grew as hard as a blacksmith's, and almost disgusted him with engraving. At any rate, there is the strong probability that such Newcastle dials engraved by Thomas Bewick are on clocks of the date from 1763 to 1774. The following list of names of Newcastle and other clockmakers in the North of England is produced by the kindness of C. Leo Reid, Esq., of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and by the permission of the proprietors of the _Newcastle Weekly Chronicle_, compiled from notes appearing in that valuable repository of North-country antiquities. The makers are of Newcastle, unless otherwise stated. The list is arranged alphabetically. John Airey (Hexham), 1790-95. Jas. Atkinson (Gateshead), 1770-77. Joseph Atkinson (Gateshead), 1790-1804. Beilly and Hawthorn, 1780. William Berry (Gateshead), 1810. Thomas Bell, 1785. John Bolton (Chester-le-Street), 1812; (Durham), 1812-21. S. Boverick, 1765. William Coventry, 1778. William Featherstone, 1790-95. William Fenton, 1778. William Foggin, 1833 (clock-dial maker). Gibson, 1750. John Greaves, 1780-95. Thomas Greaves, 1778-95. John Harrison, 1790-95. John Hawthorn, 1780. W. Heron, 1790. Geo. Hidspeth, 1800. J. Hutchinson, 1811. Matt. Kirkup, 1811. Jos. Ledgard, 1707-32. Richard Marshall (Wolsingham), 1796. Geo. Miller (Gateshead), 1770. Sam Ogden, 1760-70. Ord (Hexham), 1797. Jno. Peacock, 1800. John Rawson, 1790. Wm. Rawson, 1790. { Christian Ker Reid, 1778-1834. { St. Nicholas Churchyard, close to workshop of Thomas Bewick. { Reid and Son, 1817. { Reid and Sons, 1845 to present day. Henry Sanders (Gateshead), 1800. John Scott (Sandgate), 1790-95. Thomas Smoult, 1790. { Hugh Stockell, 1790. { Stockell and Stuart, 1798. { Hugh Stockell, 1800. Archibald Strachan, 1790. William Tickle, sen., 1790-95. William Tickle, jun., 1790-95. J. H. Wakefield (Gateshead), 1800. John Wakefield (Lamesley), 1827. Ward, 1811. Michael Watson, 1811-27. Thomas Weatherley (Berwick-on-Tweed), 1790-95. John Weatherston, 1790-95. John Wilson, 1782-90. Richard Young, 1811. In regard to the remarks about Thomas Bewick and clock dials, there is every likelihood that his 'prentice work in engraving them between 1763 and 1774 is to be found on clocks by S. Boverick, William Coventry, William Fenton, Gibson, John Hawthorn, John Wilson, and Christian K. Reid; the latter maker certainly knew Bewick. The dates given in the above list do not definitely represent that the maker's work was confined to that period exclusively. They are approximate dates. =Yorkshire Clockmakers: Halifax and the District.=--We have already seen that John Harrison, the great self-taught genius, born in 1683, was a Yorkshireman. Of early makers there is a record of John Ogden, of Bowrigg, of the late seventeenth century, and Samuel Ogden, born at Sowerby in 1669. The name of Ogden is found on many Yorkshire clocks. Thomas Ogden came to Halifax; although the Ogdens seem to have been a Quaker family, one of his clocks is in the Unitarian Chapel vestry. The Ogden type of dial with the phases of the moon, although not original, being adapted from Dutch models, became noteworthy in the North of England, and such styles were termed "Halifax" clocks. Samuel Ogden, a descendant, migrated to Newcastle-upon-Tyne (see list, p. 216), perpetuating the name a hundred years after. In Halifax parish churchyard is a tombstone to the memory of R. Duckworth, clockmaker, 1677. John Mason was a maker about 1760, and his father, Timothy Mason, was a clockmaker before him. At Rotherham some years ago there were some Mason clocks on exhibition, and there were eight generations of Masons as clockmakers, the later branch having settled at Rotherham. Such is the record of many provincial makers. Emanuel Hopperton, of Leeds, made clocks with marquetry cases. One bore the proud motto, _Non mihi sed mundo._ Henry Brownhill, of Briggate, Leeds, watchmaker and clockmaker, was sufficiently prosperous to issue several tons of halfpenny copper tokens in 1793. By the courtesy of S. H. Hamer, Esq., of Halifax, an illustration of one of these tokens is given. [Illustration: HALFPENNY, 1793.] This was the year when the Reign of Terror began and when Marie Antoinette was executed. In England great commercial distress was felt. Banks issued notes in excess of their capital. Gold was scarce, and the Bank of England restricted its issues. A panic ensued and several banks failed. Pitt issued Exchequer Bills to the extent of five millions. Other local clockmakers are Thomas Liston, of Luddenden, 1718-79, and his son Thomas, of Halifax, 1745-1815. It is reported that this latter Thomas Lister travelled by coach from Halifax to London to regulate and keep in order the clock at St. Paul's Cathedral. There is an orrery by him in the Glasgow University Museum. [Illustration: LONG CASE CLOCK. Maker, Gilbert Chippindale (Halifax). ENLARGEMENT OF HOOD. Showing fine fretwork and maker's name in lunette. (_By courtesy of Surgeon-Major W. Savile Henderson._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE EIGHT-DAY CLOCK. Maker, John Weatherilt (Liverpool). Date, 1780-85. (_Reproduced by courtesy of George H. Hewitt, Esq., J.P._)] William Lister is another member of the same family who made long-case clocks. In his dials a noticeable feature is the absence of the hour circle as being separate from the rest of the plate. The dial was made in one piece and attached to a back-plate of brass. Pattison, another Yorkshire maker, made long-case clocks similar to those of William Lister. John Hartley, of Halifax, about 1770, was the maker of a thirty-hour grandfather clock in oak case with brass square dial and moon and date lunettes. Titus Bancroft, of Sowerby Bridge, 1822, a church-clock maker, also made grandfather clocks. John Hallifax, of Barnsley, who died in 1750, made a fine long-case clock now at Wentworth House. Gilbert Chippindale, of Halifax, 1781, is another maker of fine clocks. A fine example of his work is illustrated (p. 219). R. Henderson, of Scarborough, early eighteenth century, is another Yorkshire maker. Richard Midgley, 1720-40, of Halifax, made a number of clocks still treasured locally. Samuel Pearson is known about 1790, and John Stancliffe, of Bark-island, is another local maker. Collectors have too frequently associated Yorkshire clocks with the later periods, with ponderous cases of gigantic size, but, as is shown, the Yorkshire makers are worthy of considerable attention by connoisseurs as having a lineage extending back into the periods when clockmaking was at its best, and when the case-maker was not such a preponderating factor as he seems to have been in the early nineteenth century days in the North. =Liverpool and the District.=--In regard to Liverpool and the vicinity, at the Tercentenary Historical Exhibition at the Walker Art Gallery in 1907 a collection of clocks and watches was made to illustrate the art of the clockmaker in that part of the country. By the kindness of George H. Hewitt, Esq., J.P., who arranged these exhibits, we are enabled to supply the names of many of the Liverpool clockmakers. Peter Litherland patented the rack lever escapement in 1793-4 which Robert Roskell, the Liverpool maker, introduced into his watches. At the above Exhibition was shown a pendulum watch by George Taylor, about 1700, and one by William Tarleton, 1797, with the Government stamp indicating that the tax of a guinea had been paid. This was in 1797, the first and only year when a tax on watches and clocks was levied. One remembers the fine portrait of Colonel Tarleton in uniform, with one foot on a cannon, after the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, signed I. Johnson, on a Liverpool mug. He was the Member of Parliament for Liverpool from 1790 to 1812. This family gave the name to Tarleton Street, Liverpool. That Liverpool and the district was renowned for its watches is shown by a silver watch made by Thomas Worsley, Liverpool, inscribed, "Presented to Robert Burns by his brother ploughmen of Air (_sic_) March 9, 1785." Among other makers at Liverpool whose names are found on watches are Fair-clough (about 1800), Edmonds (about 1770), Joseph Finney (about 1770), Robert Roskell (about 1800), M. J. Tobias & Co. (1820), Harrington (1790), Peter Hope (1795), J. Johnson (1796). [Illustration: LONG-CASE EIGHT-DAY CLOCK. Maker, Thurston Lassell (Toxteth Park, Liverpool). Date, about 1745. (_Reproduced by courtesy of George H. Hewitt, Esq., J.P._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE MAHOGANY EIGHT-DAY CLOCK. Maker, Henry Higginbotham (Macclesfield). The Gothic panel in door is a noticeable feature. (_By courtesy of A. Bromley Sanders, Esq., Exeter._)] It is possible that some of these makers also made long-case and other clocks; we find the name of Roskell on a long-case clock and R. Roskell on another. Presumably this was the Robert Roskell who used the Litherland rack-lever watch escapement. Joseph Finney also made long-case clocks. Other makers' names found on Liverpool clocks are Burges, Aspinall (with the motto, "Time is valuable"), Jno. Weatherilt. This clock is illustrated (p. 221). It indicates by the character of its marquetry in the panel of the door and in the base that it belongs to the second period of marquetry contemporary with the influence of Sheraton. In the lunette the phases of the moon are shown. The date of this is about 1780 to 1785. Another clock, illustrated on p. 225, is by Thurston Lassell, Toxteth Park, Liverpool. This in date is about 1745. The phases of the moon are shown in the lunette. The case is of more slender proportions than its fellow. The hood exhibits a reticence which was lost in later examples, especially in provincial work made in Yorkshire, where the case became of unwieldy size and somewhat ungainly shape. Other names of Liverpool makers found on long-case clocks are William Sutton, Harrison & Son, Jas. Canson, Thomas Saxon, Jo^n Taylor (Ormskirk), W. Lassell, Toxteth Park, Liverpool, with motto, "Time shows the Way of Life's Decay," with brass face, lunar movement, and monthly dial with indicator. (This style of dial is a feature of a Shropshire clock illustrated p. 249.) Brown, Liverpool, is found on a mahogany long-case clock and also on a small long-case clock. To those who are interested the portrait in oils of Peter Litherland, the inventor of the rack lever, who died in 1804, is in the possession of the Corporation of Liverpool. Among other Lancashire makers the following are noteworthy: T. Lees (Bury), 1795-1800; Archibald Coats (Wigan), 1780; Barr (Bolton), 1790; James Barlow (Oldham), 1775; Benjamin Barlow (Ashton-under-Lyne), 1780; and Nathaniel Brown (Manchester), 1780-1785. In Westmorland and Cumberland the names Burton, of Kendal, and Russell, of Carlisle, are often found on grandfather clocks of local manufacture of the late eighteenth century. In regard to a particular style of case associated with Lancashire and with Cheshire, having the door decorated with panel in Gothic style, two examples are illustrated (p. 227), one by Henry Higginbotham (Macclesfield), and the other by Heywood, Northwich, 1790 (p. 231). [Illustration: LONG-CASE MAHOGANY EIGHT-DAY CLOCK. Maker, Heywood (Northwich, Cheshire). 1790. The Gothic panel in door is a noticeable feature. (_By courtesy of Messrs. A. B. Daniell & Sons._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE EIGHT-DAY CLOCK. With dial showing days of month. Oak case veneered in mahogany. Maker, Thomas Wall (Birmingham). Date, about 1795. (_In possession of author._)] =Clockmakers of the Midlands.=--As typical of the fine work produced, the bracket clock by Sam Watson, of Coventry, 1687, illustrated (p. 181), shows that the provincial maker was at that date in no way on a lower plane than his contemporary in London. Other makers are Wilson (Warwick), 1709; John Whitehurst (Derby), 1785--a fine long-case clock by this maker is in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; W. Francis (Birmingham), and Thomas Wall (Birmingham), 1798. An example by this maker is illustrated (p. 233), exhibiting a pastoral scene painted in the lunette of the dial. This clock--in the possession of the author--keeps excellent time although 120 years old, and has gone for ten years without stopping. Of Nottingham makers, the following names of early craftsmen are found on watches: Isaac Alexander, about 1760 (a watch, gold inner case, white dial; outer case of shagreen, with portrait of Charles Stuart by J. June, 1745), and Thomas Hudson, about 1790 (silver, white dial; outer case of tortoiseshell, with silver mounts). The name of Hen. Page, Upper Broughton (Notts), is found on a brass clock, and John Kirk was a maker at Epperstone and Skegby before he came to London in 1677 and was admitted as a member of the Clockmakers' Company. Among the collection of watches at Nottingham Museum, apart from the two above-mentioned, are a good many by makers of a later date, mainly of the early nineteenth century: John Lingford, A. Shepperley, William Young--all of Nottingham, and Geo. Stacey, Worksop. Among the other watches on exhibition are an early one by Robert Dent (Lincoln), No. 61, and a watch with gold case with chased _repoussé_ figures and ornament by J. Windmills, the celebrated London maker, 1671-1700. This short list of Midland makers is obviously incomplete, and it is to be hoped that some painstaking horologists will amplify it and do honour to the makers and to the counties concerned. =The Home Counties.=--Thomas Tompion (1671-1713), the famous London maker, commenced at Bedford and ended at Bath. We have seen a brass lantern clock engraved "Thos. Tonkink de Bedforde." This might very well be one of his early clocks, and we know his great last triumph in the famous long-case clock in the Pump Room at Bath. But apart from this incidental connection of the "father of English watchmaking" with the provinces, there stands Joseph Knibb, of Oxon, who was admitted to the Clockmakers' Company of London in 1677. He worked in London for the Court of Charles II. But he was established in Oxfordshire, as is shown by the copper token he issued, with inscription "Joseph Knibb Clockmaker in Oxon," and on reverse the dial of a clock with initials I.K. in centre. We give an illustration of this token. [Illustration] A long-case eight-day clock finely decorated in marquetry, in date about 1690, is illustrated (p. 237). This exhibits the work of Knibb as being equal, as his employment at the Court shows, to the leading London makers of his day. In the chapter on Marquetry, p. 79, will be found a notice of this clock in regard to its relation to other styles of marquetry, and its place in the sequence there described. [Illustration: LONG-CASE EIGHT-DAY CLOCK. Decorated in marquetry. Maker, Joseph Knibb (Oxon). Date about 1690.] [Illustration: GEORGIAN SPANISH MAHOGANY LONG-CASE CLOCK. Hood enriched with fretwork in Chinese style of Chippendale. Terminals of carved mahogany. Maker, Cockey (Warminster). (_By courtesy of Messrs. D. Sherratt & Co., Chester._)] A fine bracket clock by Joseph Knibb, in date about 1690, is illustrated (p. 181). This is of the same period as the long-case clock, the year when William of Orange defeated James II at the battle of the Boyne, and James, the last of the Stuarts, fled into France. It is possible that the fortunes of Joseph Knibb were bound up with Whitehall. At the Revolution in 1689 our Court clockmaker no doubt retreated into Oxfordshire to continue his creations which we now know. A cloud of unpaid debts must have hung over him, for the Stuarts were bad paymasters. =The West Country.=--In publishing lists of clockmakers collected by local antiquaries, a loyal service has been rendered to the West Country by the _Devon and Cornwall Notes and Queries_. The following list is based on the researches published in that journal by R. Pearse-Chope, Esq.,[4] and by H. Tapley-Soper, Esq.[5] Balle, John (Exeter). Bickle, R. H. (Bishop's Nympton). Bradford (Tiverton). Bradford (Drayford). Braund, John (Hatherleigh). Brayley and Street (Bridgwater). Bucknell, Jas. (Crediton). Chamberlain, Hen. (Tiverton). Chasty, Robert (Hatherleigh). Chasty, William (Teignmouth). Day, Christopher (South Molton). Drake, R. (Beaminster). Eastcott, Richard (Exon). Edward, Clement, c. 1671. Ezekiel (Exon), c. 1794. Follet (Sidmouth). Foster, James (Ashburton). Fox, John (Alverton). Gard, Henry (Exeter). Gard, William (Exeter). Gaydon, J. (Barnstaple). Gould (Bishop's Nympton). Gould, G. (South Molton). Harding, Charles (Sidmouth). Harner (Membury). Hayward, Peter (Crediton), _c._ 1766. Howard, Wm., 1760. Hutchins, William (Cullompton). Huxtable (Chittlehampton). Huxtable, E. (South Molton). Jacobs, A. (Torquay). Jonas, Saml. (Exon), 1783. Keffutt, Walter (Exon). Lord, John (Farringdon). Lovelace, Jacob (Exeter), died 1766. Mallett, Peter, 1705. Mallett, John (Barnstaple), 1840. March, R. (Honiton). Otercey, John (Torrington). Passmore, R. (Barnstaple). Pile, Fra. (Honiton). Pollard (Crediton), 1760. Pollard, Thomas (Exeter). Price (Wiveliscombe). Rew, Joseph (Wiveliscombe). Routledge, George (Lydford), died 1801. (Epitaph Lydford Churchyard.) Sanderson, Geo. (Exeter). (Maker and patentee of tools for duplicating parts of watches, 1761.) Scoble, John S. (Colyton). Simons, A. (Bideford). Skinner (Exon). Snell, E. (Barnstaple). Stocker (Honiton). Strowbridge (Dawlish). Stumbel (Totnes). Thorn (South Molton). Thorne, Sim (Tiverton), 1740. Thorne, Michl. (South Molton). Tickle, John (Crediton), 1730. Upjohn, Richard (Exon). (Long-case clock, _c._ 1730.) Upjohn, Wm. (Exeter), 1741. Upjohn, Peter (Bideford). (Watch, 1780.) Weller, Geo. (Exon). Wood, I. (Exon). Waldron, John (Tiverton). Dates from church registers, family Bibles, old wills, marriage records, and old newspapers to amplify local lists such as this add greatly to their value in establishing period of clock. [4] 1912-13, p. 242. [5] 1914-15, pp. 204, 205; and July 1917. Jacob Lovelace, of Exeter, who died in 1766, was the maker of a remarkable clock of most elaborate nature, with organ that played, and a series of moving figures striking the hours, and bellringers and other intricate diversions. This clock was exhibited at the International Exhibition in 1851, and is now at the Liverpool Museum. A fine long-case clock in Chippendale style by Cockey, of Warminster, is illustrated (p. 239), and exhibits provincial work both in case and movement of the highest character. [Illustration: BRASS DIAL OF CLOCK. By Shenkyn Shon (Blackcock Inn, Pontnedd Fechan). 1714. (_At National Museum of Wales, Cardiff._)] [Illustration: IRON DIAL OF THIRTY-HOUR CLOCK. Single hand and alarum. Mid-eighteenth century. Ornamented with designs of various phases of Sussex iron industry. Maker, Beeching (Ashburnham). (_From the collection of J. C. Dawson, Esq., F.S.A._)] [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK WITH RARE OVAL DIAL. Subsidiary seconds and calendar dials. Blue painted decoration, under glass, in spandrels above dial. Fine carved work in oval frame. Maker, Marston (Salop). Brass plate on door dated 1761. (_By courtesy of Walter Idris, Esq._)] Strowbridge, of Dawlish, is the maker of a bracket clock, in date about 1805, showing pleasing work in the fine marquetry decoration introduced by Sheraton (illustrated p. 201). There is an instance on record of a clock being sent to "Mr. Strowbridge" for repair. "When it came back his name, 'H. Strowbridge, Dawlish,' was engraved upon the dial." =Miscellaneous Makers--East Anglia.=--Several makers are connected with Yarmouth. There is Thomas Utting (Yarmouth), and we have seen a fine long-case clock signed thus, and there is Isaac Johnson (Yarmouth), who apparently made wall clocks. John Page, of Ipswich, is the maker of a very handsome bracket clock, in date about 1740 (illustrated p. 187). The name of Henry Terold, Ipswich, is found on a round silver watch with chased interlacing bands and silver dial, of seventeenth-century period. Joseph Chamberlain, of Norwich, is a name found on a late seventeenth-century watch. The names of Mann and Jon. Nevill, both of Norwich, are found on late eighteenth-century grandfather clocks. =Kent and Sussex.=--The name of William Gill or Gilt, of Maidstone, is found on a fine long-case clock of the eighteenth century. William Gardner, of Sandwich, and Joseph Carswell, of Hastings, are other names found on grandfather clocks of the latter part of the eighteenth century. The dial of a clock by a Sussex maker, Beeching, of Ashburnham, from a thirty-hour clock with single hand and alarum (illustrated p. 243), is of mid-eighteenth century period, and shows in its decorations the various phases of the iron industry carried on at Ashburnham. =Welsh Clocks.=--At the Amgueddfa Genedlaethol Cymru, at Cardiff, the National Museum of the Principality, there is a long-case clock by B. C. Vaughan, of Pontypool, and a brass block with movement by "Shenkyn Shon, Black Cock Inn, Pontnedd Fechan, 1714," and also there exhibited are the works of the old clock from St. David's Cathedral. Illustrated on p. 245 is a unique long-case clock with brass plate on door, with date 1761, with dragon above. The particular feature of especial interest in this clock is its oval dial (which is separately illustrated, p. 249). This dial is enamelled white, and has a medallion at top representing the figure of Hope with an anchor. The other decoration is interesting as exhibiting the attempt of the provincial maker to simulate in pigment the marquetry work of the Sheraton school, the design being similar to that found on tea-caddies, no doubt well known to the painter of the dial. There are two subsidiary dials, one for seconds and the other showing the days of the month. [Illustration: DIAL OF CLOCK ILLUSTRATED P. 245. This oval form is rare. The Sheraton type of decoration painted on dial is a noticeable feature. The panel is reminiscent of Pergolesi. The lower dial indicates the days of month.] [Illustration: DIAL OF CLOCK ILLUSTRATED P. 233. Lunette painted with figure subject of woman and pitcher at stream. Spandrels decorated with roses in red and gold.] Although the maker's name is "Marston (Salop)" there is an especially Welsh interest attaching to this clock. It once was in the possession of Daniel Owen, the famous Welsh novelist, who is buried in Mold churchyard, and whose monument is in the County Hall Field at Mold. He introduced this clock into his novel, _Rhys Lewis_. The grandmother of the youthful hero of the story had gone to the fair; in her absence the boy took this clock to pieces, so the story goes. But as the hours wore on he found it was easier to take it to pieces than to put it together again. The scene on the return of his grandmother is piquantly described. The clock-work ran like a thing demented, and the tell-tale hands revealed the secret of the culprit, who uneasily fingered a missing wheel in his pocket, and he had forgotten to put on the pendulum. The hood of the clock is of original decoration. The upper spandrels have a blue-and-gold floral design, covered with glass. The two lower spandrels are delicately carved. The frame around the oval dial is of beaded work cut in broad and effective style. Altogether this clock possesses features appealing to collectors. The provincial maker followed his own lines, and has in so doing produced something unique. * * * * * In conclusion, some apology should be made for an attempt to sketch in makers of repute, scattered over so wide an area, which resulted in a mere outline. The meagre lists may in many cases be said to be noteworthy for their omissions. But want of space has precluded the writer from pursuing the subject further, and he may be permitted to express a hope that the perusal of these facts may stimulate local efforts to worthier records. CHAPTER IX SCOTTISH AND IRISH CLOCKS David Ramsay, Clockmaker Extraordinary to James I--Some early "knokmakers"--List of eighteenth-century Scottish makers--Character of Scottish clocks--Irish clockmakers: Dublin, Belfast, Cork--List of Irish clockmakers. Among the most notable of the early Scottish makers was David Ramsay, who was clockmaker to James VI of Scotland and followed that monarch to London. In Sir Walter Scott's _Fortunes of Nigel_, Ramsay is introduced as a character. "David Ramsay by name, who, whether recommended by his great skill in his profession, as the courtiers alleged, or, as was murmured among his neighbours, by his birthplace, in the good town of Dalkeith, near Edinburgh, held in James's household the post of maker of watches and horologes to his Majesty. He scorned not, however, to keep open shop within Temple Bar, a few yards to the eastward of St. Dunstan's Church." It appears that he was of a mystical turn of mind, and conceived the idea of treasure buried in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey. Dean Withnam gave permission to dig, and prudently stipulated as a condition that he came in for a share. One John Scott, pretending to the skilled use of the divining rod, Ramsay, and several others, according to the astrologer Lilly in his _Life and Times_, dug 6 feet deep with the aid of labourers and came to a coffin, but as it was not heavy they did not open it, "which we afterwards much repented." When at this impious task a terrific storm arose, and "we verily believed the west end of the church would have fallen upon us." Candles and torches, except one, were extinguished. "John Scott, my partner, was amazed, looked pale, knew not what to think or do until I gave directions and command to dismiss the demons; which when done, all was quiet again, and each man returned unto his lodging late, about twelve o'clock at night." The share of the Dean in the treasure therefore came to nought. The _Dictionary of National Biography_ supplements and corrects Sir Walter. "Clockmaker Extraordinary" was Ramsay's title, and his son says: "When James I succeeded to the crown of England, he sent into France for my father, who was there, and made him page of the bedchamber and keeper of his Majesty's clocks and watches." He was of considerable reputation, as, when the charter of incorporation was granted by Charles I to the Clockmakers' Company of London, he was appointed as the first master in 1631. He apparently was not of a worldly disposition, and it is believed that when the destinies of the Stuarts were under a cloud he was in great poverty. His son writes of his father: "It's true your carelessness in laying up while the sun shone for the tempests of a stormy day, hath given occasion to some inferior spirited people not to value you for what you are by nature and in yourself, for such look not to a man longer than he is in prosperity, esteeming none but for their wealth, not wisdom, power, nor virtue." The knowledge of what manner of man was this old Scottish clockmaker adds a pleasure to the contemplation of his work. At the Guelph Exhibition were shown a clock and alarum watch with single hand, dated 1636, signed _D. Ramsay_. This was on the eve of the Civil War, a year before Hampden refused to pay ship money in England and the introduction of a new Prayer Book in Scotland. But the Prayer Book was no sooner opened at St. Giles's, Edinburgh, than a murmur ran through the congregation, and the murmur soon grew into a formidable riot. The Covenant signed in the churchyard of the Greyfriars at Edinburgh set a flame alight throughout Scotland. "Such was the zeal of subscribers that for a while many subscribed with tears on their cheeks"--some were indeed reputed to have "drawn their own blood and used it in place of ink to underwrite their names." In such times old David Ramsay, away in the South, saw Stuart magnificence come to a close. At the British Museum is a watch he signs "_David Ramsay, Scotus me fecit_." In signing thus, he shows he was proud of being a Scotsman, and as a great Scottish clockmaker his name and record are given the place of honour at the front of this sketch of Scottish work. His watches are richly decorated in the French style; doubtless he learned his craft in France. His last years were passed in the stormy period of the Revolution, and he lived to see Cromwell and the Roundheads defeat Leslie at Dunbar. He died in Holborn in 1654, the year of the union of England and Scotland under Cromwell by Ordinance. =Some Early "Knokmakers."=--A clock in Scottish is a _knok_. It would appear that the early "knokmakers" were more conversant with the Kirk knok, the Tolbooth knok, and the College knok, than with the domestic clock or watch. In the middle of the seventeenth century, as in England at a slightly previous date, clockmakers formed themselves into trade guilds. London was incorporated in 1631. Edinburgh followed in 1646, Glasgow, 1649, Haddington, 1753, and Aberdeen not till 1800. The metal-workers of Scotland have always been renowned, and at the above dates clockmakers were eligible to enter the Hammermen's Incorporations as affiliated with the craft of locksmith, which was of ancient lineage. During the seventeenth century the Scottish clockmakers, in common with English, came under foreign inspiration. But the eighteenth century saw a complete school of makers springing up in various parts of the country, flowing to, and again flowing from, Edinburgh and the Canongate (including Leith), which were the earliest centres of Scottish clockmaking. [Illustration: BRASS LANTERN CLOCK. With brass dial and fine fretwork. Inscribed "Humphry Mills at Edinburgh Fecit." Date, about 1670. (_In the Glasgow Museum. Reproduced by permission of the Glasgow Corporation._)] We mention a few of the early makers. There was Humphry Mills, who is referred to in the minutes of the Incorporation of Hammermen, Edinburgh, in 1661. There is an example of his work in the Antiquarian Museum, Edinburgh, and we illustrate another in the Corporation Museum at Glasgow (p. 259). This lantern clock, with brass dial and fine fretwork with floriated design, is inscribed _Humphry Mills at Edinburgh fecit_. Richard Mills, or Milne, was apparently the nephew of Humphry, and was admitted a freeman clockmaker at Edinburgh in 1678. He died in 1710. Another early maker is John Alexander, of Edinburgh, made a freeman in 1671, his trial being to make "ane Knok and mounting and ane sun dyall," also a "Kist lock and key," this part of the locksmith's craft being one of the necessary proofs of craftsmanship for admission as a fully qualified Hammerman. He died in 1707. It is interesting to note that he had to construct a sundial. The art of dialling is intricate, and this indicates that the old clockmaker had a sound technical and scientific knowledge. He was evidently no maker of clocks as "bits o' mechanism," or an assembler of parts. He understood principles. Thomas Gordon, apprentice to Andrew Brown, Edinburgh, 1688, was in business for forty years and died in 1743. His nephew, Patrick Gordon, was the son of Alexander Gordon, of Briggs, and seems to have been a man of wealth, apart from his trade as a clockmaker. A fine example of his work is illustrated (p. 263), a long-case clock having the door of lacquered work in the "Chinese taste." On the case without the panel is stencilled work, attempting to follow out the style of the imported panel. This example indicates what has already been advanced in the chapter on Lacquered Cases (pp. 110, 114), that such work was of foreign origin. This panelled door is of oak. Other seventeenth-century makers include Paul Roumieu, 1677 to 1694, the first practical watchmaker who came to Edinburgh. Before that date only clocks were attempted. Paul Roumieu, jun., son of the above, was admitted as a freeman of Edinburgh in 1692, and died in 1710. =List of Eighteenth-century Scottish Makers.=--In regard to the activities of Scottish clockmakers in comparison with their fellow-craftsmen across the border, it is interesting to note that there are very few examples of the early crown and verge escapement by Scotch makers, but there are a great number of the anchor escapement. Although invented by Hooke in 1675, this was not taken up readily. This unwillingness to adopt new styles is a feature in clockmaking in the provinces and in Scotland. The works of a clock are not unfrequently put by the maker into a case belonging to a period of cabinet work of some forty years previous. The clockmaker was an autocrat, and compelled the case-maker to follow old traditions in making cases. [Illustration: LONG-CASE CLOCK. With door decorated in lacquer; remainder of case finished in stencil. Maker, Patrick Gordon, Edinburgh (1705-15). (_By courtesy of Edward Campbell, Esq., Glasgow._)] The following names of noted makers of the eighteenth century are usually found on long-case clocks of the grandfather type:-- Richard Alcorn (Edinburgh), 1703-39 (died). Thomas Ancrum (Edinburgh). Apprenticed 1703 to Andrew Brown. Andrew Brown (Edinburgh), 1665-1711 (died). Apprenticed to Humphry Milne. Alexander Brownlie (Edinburgh), 1710-39 (died). Hugh Campbell (Edinburgh). Apprenticed to Humphry Milne 1692. James Cowan (Edinburgh), 1744-81 (died). John Dalgleish (Edinburgh), 1742-70 (died). Alexander Ferguson (Dundee), 1777. Jos. Gibson (Ecclefechan), about 1750 (see illustration, p. 267). Patrick Gordon (Edinburgh), 1699-1749 (died). Thomas Gordon (Edinburgh), 1688-1743 (died). James Greig (Perth), 1773-76. Thomas Hogg (Edinburgh). Apprenticed to Andrew Brown 1698. { Anthony Hopton (Edinburgh). { Matthew Hopton (Edinburgh). { Makers of wooden clocks 1799-1817. { John Hopton. { Carried on business to 1850. John Kerr (Glasgow), 1783. Andrew Lyon (Port Glasgow), 1783. Geo. Munro (Canongate), 1750-99. Thomas Reid (Edinburgh), 1762-1831 (died). Author of _Treatise on Clock and Watchmaking_, 1826. John Russell (Falkirk), 1797-1818 (died). Geo. Skelton (Edinburgh), 1773-1834 (died). John Smith (Pittenweem, Fife). Self-taught. Came to Edinburgh in 1774. Maker of musical clocks, etc. Disposed of his clocks by lottery in 1809 at Edinburgh. Archibald Straiton (Edinburgh), 1739-84 (died). Wm. Sutor (Edinburgh), 1712-15. William Veitch (Haddington), 1758. James Young (Edinburgh), 1756. The writer desires to record his indebtedness to the useful _Handbook and Directory of Old Scottish Clockmakers from 1540 to 1850_, by John Smith, Esq., published by William J. Hay, Esq., John Knox's House, Edinburgh, 1903. This volume is now out of print, and a new and enlarged edition containing no less than 2,700 names is shortly appearing. No student or collector of Scottish clocks can afford to be without this volume, as it is the only one dealing with its subject. In regard to districts in England and Wales, there is an opportunity for local antiquarian societies to gather and tabulate county lists on the lines of this Scottish volume. The records of provincial makers are still exasperatingly incomplete. There is the authoritative volume by the late F. J. Britten, _Old Clocks and Watches and their Makers_, with a list of over 10,000 names. But in the main these are of London makers. =Character of Scottish Clocks.=--It is seldom that a clock by a Scottish maker is found to be cased in old oak. Most of the long-case clocks are of mahogany, which was not in general use till about 1740. It is true that there are exceptions, some few being found in lacquered or Dutch marquetry cases, but the majority are in mahogany. In regard to clockmaking on a lower plane, there are the interesting clocks, with the works entirely constructed of wood, usually beech, as being the best wood adapted to cutting the teeth for the wheels; other woods used were holly and boxwood. Very few old examples now remain. There seems, too, to have been a strong proclivity towards the musical clock. Several great makers produced fine examples of this class of clock which played popular airs. No doubt in the days of musical boxes, prior to the age of the gramophone, the great folk at Edinburgh, when the "Wizard of the North" enchanted society, had a penchant for these musical sweet-chiming clocks. Daniel Brown, of Mauchline, made the modest clock that stood in the cottage of Robert Burns; and James Gray, or John Smith, or Patrick Toshach, or one of the other clockmakers who made the hours "fading in music," may have constructed some musical marvel for the master of Abbotsford. [Illustration: DIAL OF LONG PENDULUM CLOCK. With single weight for going and striking trains. Spandrel ornaments finely cut and chased, representing the Four Seasons. ENLARGEMENT OF DIAL. Showing maker's name, "Jos. Gibson, Ecclefechan." About 1750. (_By courtesy of Edward Campbell, Esq., Glasgow._)] [Illustration: WALL CLOCK. Maker, George Graydon (Dublin). Date, about 1796. With marquetry design showing volunteer in uniform, with G.R. on his cartouche box. (_At the National Museum, Dublin._)] An interesting clock with the maker's name, Jos. Gibson, Ecclefechan, is illustrated (p. 267). It has a long pendulum and single weight for striking and going trains. The spandrels are finely cut and chased and represent the four seasons. This is a feature found on Dutch dials. In date this is about 1750. The enlargement of the dial (p. 267) shows that the engraver went wrong in his spacing. He had to put the last letter above the others. Indeed, it suggests that another hand than that which engraved the decoration and the name of the maker contributed the place. It is somewhat puzzling, and leads to conjecture as to its history. It is just such examples, out of the main stream of leading makers, which so often provide exceptional interest to the collector. =Irish Clockmakers.=--The art of the clockmaker in Ireland, although having by no means lagged behind that of Scotland, has not received the attention of collectors and connoisseurs which it deserves. Researches are being made, and new data are coming to hand which will assist the student to determine the period of Irish clockmakers' work. There are some 1,100 names already known of makers, and those interested await the results of close and painstaking investigation which will enable the record to be published. By the kindness of Mr. Dudley Westropp, of the National Museum, Dublin, the following names are here given, tabulating a few of the leading Irish makers of the eighteenth century:-- George Aicken (Cork), 1770-95. A clock by this maker is illustrated (p. 273). Michael Archdekin (Dublin), 1769-1800. Joseph Blundell (Dublin), 1703-32 (died). Thomas Blundell (Dublin), 1733-75 (died). Timothy Conway (Cork), 1783-1804 (died). Thomas Coote (Dublin), 1733-47. Hugh Cunningham (Dublin), 1755-77 (died). George Furnace (Dublin), 1751-73. Charles Gillespy (Dublin), 1747-71 (died). Alexander Gordon (Dublin), 1756-87 (died). There was an Alexander Gordon at Dundee, 1729. Maker of the first clock at Brechin Town Hall. George Graydon (Dublin), 1764-1805 (died). A clock by this maker is illustrated (p. 269). Martin Kirkpatrick (Dublin), 1720-69 (died). John Knox (Belfast), 1729-83. Frederick May (Dublin), 1770-96. Thomas Meeking (Dublin), 1682-1709 (died). John Nelson (Dublin), 1786-1813. James Pickering (Dublin), 1737-71 (died). William Ross (Cork), 1764-1817. Samuel Slocomb (Cork), 1735-50. Edward Tounley (Dundalk), 1820-24. Richard Wyatt (Dublin), 1731-55 (died). These dates do not represent the makers' complete history. Some may have worked prior to the first date and after the last date, except when stated as having died then. In regard to Belfast, the late Isaac W. Ward contributed some notes to the _Belfast Evening Telegraph_ in 1909 on "Early Belfast Clock and Watchmakers," which enable some interesting particulars to be given. In 1791 one Job Rider announced that he had commenced business in Belfast, "where he makes clocks and watches of all kinds in the common manner with Harrison's and other modern improvements." It would appear that he had been to London, where possibly he was apprenticed, and had visited Dublin and Hillsborough. From 1805 to 1807 he was in partnership with R. L. Gardner. After 1807 he seems to have been associated with William Boyd. [Illustration: MUSICAL CLOCK BY GEORGE AICKEN (CORK). Date, 1770-95. Lunette marked "Minuet, March, Jigg, Air, Minuet, Gavot." The indicator is pointing to "Air." Two subsidiary dials marked "Strike," "Not Strike," and "Chime," "Not Chime." (_At National Museum, Dublin._)] [Illustration: REGULATOR CLOCK. MAHOGANY CASE. Made to hang from two rings at back of clock. Maker, Sharp (Dublin). Early nineteenth century, showing French influence. Height, 3 ft. 5-1/2 in. Width, 10-3/4 in. Base, 11-3/4 in. (_By courtesy of Messrs. Harris & Sinclair, Dublin._)] Robert Neill, who was apprenticed to Job Rider in 1791, set up business in Belfast in 1803 and joined R. L. Gardner from 1809 to 1818. At this date the firm became known as Robert Neill & Sons. Robert Neill died in 1857. His descendants still carry on business at Belfast. Another Belfast maker was James Wilson, who worked in the middle of the eighteenth century. There is a record of a musical clock being advertised by him in 1755, which he had constructed to play a number of tunes. The wall clock by George Graydon, of Dublin (illustrated p. 269), shows some interesting features. The circle round the dial is carved wood gilt; the dial itself is painted and very much cracked. The lower part is harewood inlaid. In date this example is about 1796, as it will be seen the volunteer in uniform on panel has G.R. on his cartouche-box. The bracket clock by George Aicken, of Cork (illustrated p. 273), is of fine proportions and sound design. It has striking and chiming movements, and plays six tunes marked on lunette, "Minuet, March, Jigg, Air, Minuet, Gavot." An early nineteenth century clock by Sharp, of Dublin, is illustrated (p. 275). It is a miniature long-case clock, being only 3 feet 5-1/2 inches high. It is made to hang on the wall, as there are two rings at the back of the case for this purpose. Its glass door, showing the pendulum, indicates the French influence, which in the early nineteenth century made itself felt in Ireland as elsewhere. In 1783 a company of Swiss watchmakers came to Ireland, and establishing themselves near Waterford, termed their settlement New Geneva. By 23 & 24 George III, 1784, they were granted power to assay gold and silver. An earlier Act of George II provided for only one standard of gold--22 carats. This new Act admitted three--22, 20, and 18 carats. These facilities were granted to encourage the manufacture of watches and watch-cases in Ireland. This Assay Office at New Geneva did not continue in operation more than six years. The office at New Geneva had equal powers with the Dublin Assay Office. "The Assayer or Wardens are hereby required to make, on a plate of pewter or copper, impressions of such marks or punches, with the names and places of abode of the owner thereof, in a book or books to be carefully kept for that purpose, if such owners be resident at Dublin or New Geneva." Watches or other articles of gold and silver having the stamp "New Geneva" are in date 1784 to 1790. CHAPTER X A FEW NOTES ON WATCHES The age of Elizabeth--Early Stuart watches--Cromwellian period--Watches of the Restoration--The William and Mary watch--Eighteenth-century watches--Pinchbeck and the toy period--Battersea enamel and shagreen. Early makers of English watches do not crowd the stage. On the Continent pocket clocks had had a long life before they made their appearance in this country. Queen Elizabeth had only one pair of silk stockings--she had been used to "cloth hose"--before her lady-in-waiting presented her with a pair straight from the Continent. Italian and French ideas were fast acclimatizing themselves here. Shakespeare laid many of his plays in Italy; the modern Elizabethan Englishman became quite Italian; the Queen read Tasso and Ariosto in the originals. In Germany the watch had taken various forms. The watchmakers of Nuremberg were renowned throughout Europe. "Nuremberg eggs," as they were styled, set the fashion for watches of all shapes suited to the conceits of the owner. Some were in the form of a skull, with appropriate mottoes concerning Time and Death; others were in the form of a cross, of a book, or shaped like a tulip or other flowers, or simulating butterflies and insects. The earliest styles had closed cases, these cases being subjected to various forms of ornament. The dial was not visible till the outer case was opened. Collectors of watches are collecting something that is dead. The wheels are silent for ever. The interest lies in the remoteness of the conception of a pocket clock. Possibly there is no one alive who could now set the wheels into motion, as there are no designers who could originate the exquisite tracery and filigree work, the perfect enamelling and the delicacy of metal work these old watches exhibit. They belong to a world apart. Clocks of old masters still carry on their functions: the hand still revolves in unison with the slow swing of the "royal pendulum." As timekeepers they equal most of the modern, and excel the cheap clock, hardly worth designating as a timekeeper. But the Swiss and the American factory-made watch, claiming no equality of artistic embellishment, have dethroned the antique watch in regard to accuracy. Curious and rare examples of the latter crowd the shelves of museums as being representative of that mysterious past when Time was of less moment than it is now. They belong to the age of the missal and the illuminated manuscript, and of the advent of printing with Caxton's well-balanced page. They are at variance with modernity. They were machines before the age of machinery--their very mechanism protests against being regarded as scientifically accurate. One lingers over their ornament with loving regard and forgets their purport. As timekeepers they fell short of the abbey clock, or of the sundial--a perennial stickler for truth when the sun shone. When the long pendulum, under the auspices of Christopher Huygens, commenced swinging, a timekeeper ready to hand eclipsed their gold and enamelled triumphs. But as fashionable baubles they had their continuous evolution, from Thomas Chamberlaine de Chelmisforde to Pinchbeck, and from Tompion to Eardley Norton. A considerable amount of ingenuity was given to producing examples of diminutive size which should perform adequately the correct functions of a timekeeper. But accuracy and scientific exactitude came late in the story of evolution. At length man's ingenuity triumphed. There are watches no larger than filberts which keep exact time, but there are thousands which do not. [Illustration: OLD ENGLISH WATCHES. SIXTEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES. I. Elizabethan Watch, with carved and repoussé open-work design. II. James I Watch. Dated 1620. Maker, Yate (London). III. Cromwellian Plum-shaped Silver Watch, with crest engraved on case. IV. Charles II Watch. 1660. Made by Snow of Lavington (near Bath). V. William III Watch. Maker, Thomas Tompion. About 1690. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] The last popular watch, which our grandfathers termed a "turnip," was the stage prior to modern development, and at that stage collecting ends. A scientific classification of watches would resolve itself under the following heads:-- I. _Early watches_, prior to the invention and general adoption of the fusee, that is, from about 1500 to 1540. This period would be further subdivided into (_a_) those with movements entirely of steel; (_b_) the next stage, with plates and pinions of brass and the wheels and pinions of steel; and the latest stage, (_c_), in which the plates and wheels were brass and the pinions of steel, as at the present day. II. _Watches from about 1540 to 1640_, all having fusees, and being made of every conceivable shape and size: octagonal, oval, cruciform, in the shape of a book, and so on. The cases were sometimes of crystal or bloodstone, and enamelled designs and chased gold work were predominant features. III. _Watches of the seventeenth century_, from 1610 to 1675, at which date the pendulum spring was invented. These are mainly round in shape, according to the fashion about 1620, which superseded the ancient quaint forms. The cases, both of silver and gold, were richly enamelled, and moving calendars and astronomical details were frequently made. IV. _Late seventeenth and early eighteenth century watches._ These would embrace the period from 1675 to 1720, after the invention of the pendulum spring. V. _The eighteenth century watch._ This should include all the improvements, changes in decorative style, and other details bringing the watch up to the threshold of the nineteenth century and modernity. We can only indicate the type of watch as falling under the various periods, and specimens of the leading types are illustrated (pp. 283, 287). The watches are numbered in the illustrations from one to ten, and can thus be easily identified by the reader. [Illustration: OLD ENGLISH WATCHES. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. VI. Watch with black piqué case. Maker, Peter Garon (about 1705). VII. Early Georgian Watch with dark enamel dial. Maker, Duhamel. 1740. VIII. Watch with repoussé work on case signed V. Haut. Maker, Haydon. 1731. IX. Watch. Maker, Daniels of Leighton. About 1760. X. Late Georgian Watch with dial and decorations in Battersea enamel and shagreen case. (_By courtesy of Percy Webster, Esq._)] _No. 1_ shows the character of an Elizabethan watch. The fine case shows the quality of the chased and repoussé open-work design. _No. 2_ is a James I oval watch, and the maker is Yate, of London. This watch is dated 1620, in the reign of James I, the year when the _Mayflower_ sailed to America and New England was founded by those wise Puritans who foresaw the oncoming civil war of the next reign. The Earl of Ashburnham exhibited at the Stuart Exhibition in 1889 a gold watch which formerly belonged to Charles I, inscribed "Henricus Jones, Londini." Another maker of watches of this period is Edward East. The silver alarum clock given by Charles I on his way to execution to Thomas Herbert was made by Edward East. "Through the garden the King passed into the park, where making a stand, he asked Mr. Herbert the hour of the day: and taking the clock into his hand, gave it him, and bade him keep it in memory of him." This silver alarum watch is still treasured in the Mitford family. _No. 3_ is a Cromwellian silver watch, plum-shaped. As coats of arms were not so sinful as painted cherubs and stained-glass windows, this bauble with elaborately engraved crest survived the wreckers' despoiling hand. Cromwell himself boasted of a crest, and in some respects it resembled that used by royalty. _No. 4_ is a Restoration watch made by Snow, of Lavington, near Bath. It exhibits fine ornamentation and is a beautiful specimen of Late Stuart style when sumptuousness, under the guiding influence of the French Louis Quatorze grandeur, made itself felt in this country. _No. 5_ is worthy of respect and admiration as being the work of that great maker, Thomas Tompion. It is of the William and Mary period. The craftsman had arrived at the period of a scientific endeavour to create a perfect timekeeper. The case indicates utility; ornament is in due subjection. The Arabic figures showing the seconds on the dial should be observed. _No. 6_, of which the back is shown, is a watch by Peter Garon. It is in black piqué case, finely decorated in a subdued and reticent manner. Peter Garon flourished between 1694 and 1706. But in that year, when Marlborough's campaigns were at their full height, poor Garon felt the stress of commercial depression and became bankrupt. _No. 7_, showing the front and open case, is a fine watch by Duhamel, about 1740, bringing us to the days of George I and Walpole. _No. 8_, with its fine broad repoussé case, is by Haydon, and the case is signed "V. Haut." _No. 9_ shows an illustration of the back, where the movement is visible. The maker of this is Daniels, of Leighton, 1760. _No. 10_ is by Kemp, London, and is decorated in Battersea enamel and shagreen. This brings us to the age of Pinchbeck, "the toyman in the Strand," and suggests the gewgaws and trifles, the enamelled heads for malacca canes, the snuff-boxes, and all the fashionable paraphernalia of a man about town. The watch in some respects had begun to lose its old character and was again a toy. [Illustration: CALENDAR WATCH. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. Maker, "Thomas Chamberlaine de Chelmisforde" (signature shown on right-hand illustration). The outer circle shows days of month. The indicator is pointing to 22nd. (_By courtesy of Messrs. Mallett & Son, Bath._)] Among interesting work is that of Thomas Chamberlaine de Chelmisforde. He worked in the brightest days of Charles I, when the arts were receiving stimulation from the Court. A new era seemed as though it might be about to dawn. The picture gallery of Charles I at Hampton Court showed his catholic taste, and his Queen, Henrietta Maria, was a patron of the arts. Vandyck and other great artists flocked to this country, and highly trained craftsmen commenced to build a reputation which later iconoclasts swept aside as of Baal. In the watch illustrated by Thomas Chamberlaine there is something delightfully simple and chaste. He was a maker whose work promised much. There is a specimen of his work signed "Chamberlain Chelmisford" at the British Museum, but in the specimen illustrated the name is chased "Thomas Chamberlaine de Chelmisforde." The study of watches of the various periods is a fascinating one. When the collector leaves the path of clocks, with their more Gargantuan proportions, to become a student of the intricacies of the art of the watchmaker as exemplified in some of his greatest triumphs, he has been enticed on a quest which is unending. No field in collecting and connoisseurship has claimed more devotees. INDEX "Act of Parliament" clocks, so-called, 124 Adam style, its employment in the clock-case, 147 Robert, clock-case by, illustrated, 139 Aicken, George (Cork), clock by, 277 Alarum clocks, 54 and striking clocks, early, 32 Ale-house clocks, Oliver Goldsmith quoted, 127 American clocks-- "Banjo clocks," 124 Bracket clock, by Savin and Dyer (Boston), 198 Lantern clock, with pendulum, 59 Anchor pendulum, the, 59 Arnold, John (Bodmin), 37, 212 Astronomical clock-dial, the, 28 Babylonian measurement of time, 28, 29, 30 Bacon, quoted, 53 Balance and weights prior to pendulum, 33 Barraud, clock by (1805), 203 Battersea enamel employed for watch-cases, 290 Beginners, hints for, 41 Belfast clocks and clockmakers, 272 Bewick, Thomas, engraver of clock-dials (1763-74), 215, 217 Biddell, clock by, 204 "Birdcage" clocks, 54 Böttger, his porcelain at Meissen, 109 Boulle, André Charles, and his marquetry, 72, 73, 111 Bracket clock, the, 179-204 or wall clock, the, early use of, 46, 49 Brass lantern clock, the, 45-63 Bristol clock illustrated, 149 Britten, F. J., _Old Clocks and Clockmakers_, full lists of makers in, 37 Brownhill, Henry (Leeds), copper token of, 218 Cabrier, name falsely put on Dutch clocks, 36 Calendar watch illustrated, 291 Case, the, evolution of, 155 Catherine of Braganza, dowry of, 107 Centres of clock and watch making in 1797, 214 Chamber clocks an established feature in furniture, 192 Chamberlaine, Thomas, de Chelmisforde, watch by, 291 Charles I, watch belonging to, 289 Charles II, death-bed scene of, 50, 53 Watch by Robert Hooke presented to, 36 Cherub head, the, a favourite ornament, 166 Its use on clock-dial, 169 Its use on Stuart furniture, 170 Cheshire clock-case, peculiarities of, 230 Chester, Bishop of (John Wilkins), quoted, 30 Chinese style of Chippendale, 91, 108 Designs at Worcester, Bow, and Bristol porcelain factories, 108 Taste, the _furore_ in France and Holland, 108 Chintzes, the early character of, 111 Chippendale, his Chinese style, 91, 108 His indebtedness to Marot, 155 Style in clock cases, 136 Clockmakers' Company, 1704, transactions of, quoted, 36 On fabrications of English work, 36 Clockmakers, the great English, 35 English, full list of, 37 Clockmaking, decadence of, 38 Personality in, 38, 39 Collecting period, the, 38 Collectors, hints for, foibles of, 39, 41 Colour _versus_ form, 110 Cookworthy, William, his true porcelain at Plymouth, 109 Copper tokens of clockmakers illustrated, 218, 236 Cork, clocks and clockmakers at, 289 Cornwall clockmakers, list of, 241 Country marquetry, 60 Cromwellian "plum" watch illustrated, 283 Cumming, Alexander, clock by (1770), 203 Day and night, 27, 29 Day, the, its division into hours, 28 Lunar, 29 Mean solar, 28 Delft, Dutch, ornamentation of, used in marquetry, 98 Devon and Cornwall clockmakers, list of, 241 Dial, the-- Brass, with silvered hour circle and engraved figures, 158 Character of, 157 Correct proportions of the, 165 Early form of, 30 Evolution of, 162, 165 Iron painted ornament and figures, 158 Position of maker's name on, 158, 161 Dickens, _Dombey and Son_ quoted, 31 Domestic clock, the, 33 Draper, John (1703), dial of clock by, 158 Dublin clocks and clockmakers, 272 National Museum, examples at, illustrated, 269, 273 Dutch clock panels imported, 97 Delft ware, its imitation of porcelain, 111 Fabrications of noted English makers, 36 Influence on cabinet-maker, 67 Influence on clockmaker, 217, 271 Origin of long-case clock, 154 Ornament found on clocks-- Cupids and crown, 170 Marquetry panels, 92 Phases of moon, 217 Spandrel with Seasons, 271 Dutton, Matthew, 37 Thomas, 37 William, 37 Earnshaw, Thomas (1750), 37, 212 East Anglian clockmakers, list of, 247 East, Edward, 37 East India Company, the Dutch, 107 The English, 109 Ebsworth, John, 37 Edict of Nantes and its effect, 68, 90, 120 Edinburgh clocks and clockmakers, 261-265 Eighteenth century, best period of clockmaking in, 40 Elizabethan watch illustrated, 289 Ellicott, John (Bodmin), 212 English masters of clockmaking, the great, 35 School of lacquered work, 114 Equation of time, 29 Evelyn, _Diary_ of, quoted (1681), 107 Evolution of the English mantel clock, 186 Evolution of long-case clock, 153 Base, its changing form, 155 Dial, its character, 157 Hands, their differing types, 174 Spandrel, its ornamentation, 166 Waist, its varying proportion, 155 Exeter clockmakers, list of, 241 Fleur-de-lis ornament on dial, 174 Foreign craftsmen working in England-- Dutch marquetry workers, 83, 92 French Huguenot cabinet-makers, 69, 90 Italian glassworkers, 69 Form, changing, of hood, waist, and base, 155 Innovations of, in clock-cases, 141 _versus_ colour, 111 French clocks and their influence, 147, 197, 278 Influence on mantel clocks, 197 Fromanteel, Ahasuerus, pendulum introduced into England by, 37 The family of, great clockmakers, 37 Furniture, influence of, on clock case, 141 Georgian clocks (1720-1830), 131 German school of marquetry, 72 Gibbons, Grinling, 121 Glasgow, example at Corporation Art Gallery illustrated, 259 Glass windows, when first used in coaches, 161 Workers in London, seventeenth-century, 69 Goldsmith, Oliver, _Deserted Village_ quoted, 127 Gordon, Patrick (Edinburgh), clock by, 261 Thomas (Edinburgh), 1668-1743, 261 Graham, George (1673-1751), 212 His evidence as to Robert Hooke's invention, 36 Grandfather clock, the, its Dutch origin, 74 Its long survival, 135 Its popularity, 135 Grant, John, 37 Inn clock by, illustrated, 125 Graydon, George (Dublin), clock by (1796), 277 Greek measurement of time, 28, 29 Halifax and district, list of clockmakers, 217 "Halifax" grandfather clocks, 217 Hampton Court, Dutch character of, 91 Protestant style of decoration at, 170 The work of Daniel Marot at, 91 The work of Sir Christopher Wren at, 91 Hands, the, evolution of, 174 Hour hand, at first employed, 30, 157 Minute hand first added, 30, 158 Harris, Richard, clock by, at St. Paul's, Covent Garden, 35 Harrison, John, 37 His chronometer, 212 Hill, Thomas, clock by (1760), 197 Hogarth, William, the possibility of engraved clock-dials by, 161 Home Counties, the, list of clockmakers, 236 Hood, changing forms of the, 155 Hooke, Dr. Robert, his claim for invention of balance-spring for watches, 36 His inventions, 212 Watch by, presented to Charles II, 36 Hour, the, its division into minutes, 30, 158 Hours, division of day into, 30 Huguenot refugees settle in England, 68, 120 Huygens, Christopher, Dutch astronomer, his work, 33 His quarrel with Dr. Hooke, 36 Huygens, Dutch cabinet-maker, his imitations of Japanese lacquered panels, 111 Inlaid furniture, 70, 71 Inn clock, the, 124 Innovations of form in clock-cases, 141 Irish clockmakers, list of, 271, 272 Italian school of marquetry, 71 James I appoints Ramsay as "Clockmaker Extraordinary," 256 Japanese lacquer, specimens of, 106 Johnson, Thomas, clock by (1730), 191 Jones, Henry, Charles I watch made by, 289 Charles II clock by, 212 Kent and Sussex, clockmakers of, 247 Kew Gardens Botanical Museum, Japanese lacquer at, 106 Knibb, Joseph, father and son, 37 Joseph (1670), 211 Clocks by (1690), 191, 236, 241 Copper token of (1677), 236 Knokmakers, the, of Scotland, 258 Labarte, _Arts of the Middle Ages_ quoted, 33 Lac and its properties, 105 Its introduction into England, 107 Lacquer-- Chinese and Japanese origin of, 105, 106 Dutch imitations, 110, 111 English school of lacquer work, 118, 121 French masters, 112 Its use in the clock-case, 105 Work-- English school of, 114 Foreign craftsmen in London, 120 School of English amateurs, 121 Lacquered clock-case, its peculiarities, 112 Panels imported from the East, 109 Lamb, Charles, quoted on sundials, 162 Name falsely put on Dutch clocks, 36 Lancashire clock-case, peculiarities of, 230 Clockmakers, list of, 230 Lantern clock-- Early form, 45 Its similarity to ship's lantern, 46 Lilly, _Life and Times_ quoted, 256 Liverpool and district, list of clockmakers, 224 Long-case clock-- Dutch origin of, 154 Evolution of the, 153 Georgian period, the, 131 Lacquer period, the, 105 Stability of the, 132 Veneer and marquetry period, the, 67 Loomes, Thomas, clock by, 191 Lovelace, Jacob (Exeter), 212, 242 Lowestoft china, so-called, with Dutch inscription, 173 Lunar day, the, 29 Lunette, the use of the, in dial and case, 158 Lustre ware clock vase, Staffordshire, 198 Macaulay, his account of death of Charles II, 50, 53 Mahogany long cases, the period of, 136 Makers, old, their personality given to clocks, 38 Mantel clocks, the English character of, 185 Marot, Daniel, his work at Hampton Court, 90, 91 Designs of long-case clocks, 155 Marquetry-- Country cabinet-makers' use of, 84 Decadence of, 100 Definition of, 71 Dutch school of, 79 Early English attempt at, 84 Finest period, 40, 79, 83 Foreign influence on English art, 79 German school of, 72 Imported sheets, frequent use of, 84, 97 Italian school of, 71 Provincial, 60 Revival of, Sheraton period, 123, 147 Veneer, the use of, with, 74 Martin, Sieur Simon Etienne, his varnish, 112 Mary, Queen, and Hampton Court, 98, 170 Massy, Henry (1680), dial of clock by, 158 Mean time, 29 Mechanism of clocks, early, 32 Midlands, list of clockmakers in the, 230 Mills, Humphry, Edinburgh (1661), 261 Richard, Edinburgh (1678-1710), 261 Minute, the, its division into seconds, 30 Mudge, Thomas, Exeter (1715), 37, 212 Musical clock attributed to Rimbault, 142 by George Aicken, Cork, 277 Name of maker, position on dial, 161 Names found on dials, origin of, 213 Nantes, Edict of, and its effect, 68, 120 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, list of makers, 215 New Geneva (near Waterford), Irish watchmaking centre at, 278 Silver assayed at, 278 New York Metropolitan Art Museum, clocks illustrated, 57, 193 Nineteenth century, best period of clockmaking in, 40 Long-case clock of the, 147 North of England, list of clockmakers, 215 Nottingham clockmakers, list of, 235 Numerals on dial, note on, 158, 165 Painted furniture simulating lacquer work, 123 Panels, lacquered, imported from the East, 109 Marquetry, their use in clock-case, 97 "Parliament" clocks, so-called, 124 Pendulum, the-- Advent of, 50 Early studies relating to, 154 First introduction of, 33 Introduced into England by Fromanteel, 37 Length of, determined by longitude, 179 Types of-- the anchor, 59; the "royal" or long, 33; the short, its position at front of dial, 33 Pepys' _Diary_ quoted (1667), 161 Personal clock, the, 34 Personality in clockmaking, 38 Pinchbeck, Christopher, 37 Period of watches, 290 Pitt, his tax on clocks (1797), 124 Pope, _Essay on Criticism_ quoted, 31 Porcelain, true, its introduction into Europe, 109 Poy, Godfrey, clock by (1745), 192 Pre-pendulum clocks, 33 Provincial clocks and makers, 211 Makers, some great, 211 Quare, name falsely put on Dutch clocks, 36 Queen Mary, her influence in rebuilding Hampton Court, 98 Ramsay, David, 255; watch signed by, 257 _Réfugié, le style_, its introduction into England, 90 Regulator clock, the, 148 Repairs, ignorant restoration to be avoided, 42 Riesener, the marquetry of, 111 Rimbault, Stephen, 37 Noteworthy for musical clocks, 142, 147 Roentgen, David, the marquetry of, 111 Science, the dawn of, 35 Scott, Sir Walter, _Fortunes of Nigel_ quoted, 255 Scottish clocks, 255 Character of, 266 Makers, eighteenth century, list of, 261, 262 Second, the, the second division of the hour, 30 Hand, the, 30 Seventeenth century, dawn of science in the, 35 Types of lantern clock, 53 Watches, 286, 287 Shagreen cases to watches, 290 Shakespeare, _As you like it_ quoted, 162 _King John_ quoted, 32 Sheraton style in clock-cases, 147 Spandrel ornament on clock-dial-- Artistic difficulty of, 166 Cherub head style, 166, 169 Cupids and crown style, 170 Spanish proverb quoted, 185 Specialization of clockmaking, 37 Spring, the, its early use as a motive power, 32 Staffordshire earthenware clock vase, 198 Stalker and Parker, treatise on "japanning" (1688), 122 Striking and alarum clocks, early, 32 Strowbridge (Dawlish), clock by, 204 Clock repaired by, 247 Stuart and Tudor ages compared, 35 Sundial, the, and its tradition, 162 Time, 29 Sussex, clockmakers of, 247 Clock (Ashburnham) illustrated, 243 Swiss watchmakers settled in Ireland (1784-90), 278 Table clocks, great variety of, 185 Time, apparent and mean, equation of, 29 and its measurement, 27 Babylonian method of reckoning, 28, 29, 30 Tokens, copper, of clockmakers illustrated, 218, 236 Tombstones, ornament on, indicative of contemporary styles, 157 Tomlinson, William, 37 Tompion, Thomas (1671-1713), 212, 236 Name of, falsely put on Dutch clocks, 36 Tudor and Stuart ages compared, 35 Veneer and marquetry, the use of, 74 Definition of, 69 Modern delicacy of, 69 Verge escapement of old clocks, 33 Vulliamy, Benjamin, 37 Benjamin Lewis, 37 Justin, 37 Wales, clocks made in, 248 Wall clock, early use of, 46, 49 Inn clock illustrated, 125 Irish wall clock illustrated, 277 Wall-paper-- Early use of in England, 99 Period in marquetry, 99 Repeat design of, on marquetry, 100 Walnut period of long case, 135, 136 Watches, Old English-- Battersea enamel, 290 Cromwellian, 289 Early Stuart, 289 Eighteenth-century, 290 Elizabethan, 289 Pinchbeck period, 290 Typical English described, 285, 286 William and Mary, 290 Watches, Liverpool and district famous for, 224 Waterford, Swiss watchmakers at, 278 Watson, Sam (Coventry), clock by (1687), 186 Webster's _New International Dictionary_ quoted, 30 Wedgwood medallions as ornaments to clock-case, 204 Welsh clocks and makers, 248 West Country clockmakers, list of, 241 Wilkins, John, Bishop of Chester, quoted, 30 William and Mary period of decoration, 92, 97, 98 Windmills, name falsely put on Dutch clocks, 36 Woodcarvers at Hampton Court, 170 Wooden works of clocks, 266 Wren, Sir Christopher, his work at, Hampton Court, 91 Yorkshire clock-case, peculiarities of, 223, 229 Clockmakers, 217 Zoffany, clock-cases decorated by, 142 _Printed in Great Britain by_ UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON CHATS ON ENGLISH EARTHENWARE (Companion volume to "Chats on English China.") BY ARTHUR HAYDEN With coloured Frontispiece and 80 Full-page Illustrations of specimens of Earthenware, Lists of Prices, Glossary, Bibliography, and Reproductions of 200 Marks. _Cloth_, 6s. net. "Complementary to the useful companion volume, in this 'Chats' Series, on English China which Mr. Hayden issued five years ago."--_Times._ "Is a compendious account of our native English faïence, abundantly illustrated and accurately written."--_Guardian._ "A thoroughly trustworthy working handbook."--_Truth._ "It is a mine of knowledge, gathered from all quarters, and the outcome of personal experience and research, and it is written with no little charm of style."--_Lady's Pictorial._ "Mr. Hayden knows and writes exactly what is needed to help the amateur to become an intelligent collector, while his painstaking care in verifying facts renders his work a stable book of reference."--_Connoisseur._ "The volume has been written as a companion to Mr. Hayden's 'Chats on English China' in the same series, and those who recall the admirable character of that book will find this to be in no way inferior."--_Nation._ "The illustrations are profuse and excellent, and the author and the publishers must be commended for offering us so many reproductions of typical specimens that have not appeared in any previous handbook. The illustrations alone are worth the cost of the book."--_Manchester Guardian._ "Mr. Hayden's book is filled to overflowing with beautiful and most instructive and helpful illustrations, and altogether it is one that will give immense pleasure to collectors, and much information to the admiring but ignorant."--_Liverpool Courier._ LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN, LTD., 1, ADELPHI TERRACE. +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's Note: | | | | Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Other | | errors are noted below. | | | | Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant | | form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. | | | | Ambiguous hyphens were retained. | | | | Mid-paragraph illustrations have been moved between paragraphs and | | some illustrations have been moved closer to the text that | | references them. The List of Illustrations paginations and those | | in image captions were not corrected. | | | | Italicized words are surrounded by underline characters, | | _like this_, bolded words by equal signs,=like this=. | | | | Corrections: | | Bartholomew Newsom -----> Bartholomew Newsam (p. 46) | | Kenneth Maclellan -----> Kenneth Maclennan (p. 114) | | panels of ergolesi -----> panels of pergolesi (p. 121) | | Ralph Beilly -----> Ralph Beilby (p. 216) | | Peter Garron -----> Peter Garon (p. 287). | | | | Note: | | Page 173: Quinton, Yarmouth. The letter u in these two words | | appears with a dot on top. These words are shown as follows: | | Q[.u]inton, Yarmo[.u]th. | +--------------------------------------------------------------------+ 
17021	----	Book provided by the New York University Library. Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original more than 180 illustrations. See 17021-h.htm or 17021-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/0/2/17021/17021-h/17021-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/0/2/17021/17021-h.zip) WATCH AND CLOCK ESCAPEMENTS A Complete Study in Theory and Practice of the Lever, Cylinder and Chronometer Escapements, Together with a Brief Account of the Origin and Evolution of the Escapement in Horology Compiled from the well-known Escapement Serials published in The Keystone Nearly Two Hundred Original Illustrations Published by The Keystone The Organ of the Jewelry and Optical Trades 19th & Brown Sts., Philadelphia, U.S.A. 1904 All Rights Reserved Copyright, 1904, By B. Thorpe, Publisher of the Keystone. PREFACE Especially notable among the achievements of The Keystone in the field of horology were the three serials devoted to the lever, cylinder and chronometer escapements. So highly valued were these serials when published that on the completion of each we were importuned to republish it in book form, but we deemed it advisable to postpone such publication until the completion of all three, in order that the volume should be a complete treatise on the several escapements in use in horology. The recent completion of the third serial gave us the opportunity to republish in book form, and the present volume is the result. We present it to the trade and students of horology happy in the knowledge that its contents have already received their approval. An interesting addition to the book is the illustrated story of the escapements, from the first crude conceptions to their present perfection. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE DETACHED LEVER ESCAPEMENT 9 CHAPTER II. THE CYLINDER ESCAPEMENT 111 CHAPTER III. THE CHRONOMETER ESCAPEMENT 131 CHAPTER IV. HISTORY OF ESCAPEMENTS 153 CHAPTER V. PUTTING IN A NEW CYLINDER 169 INDEX 177 WATCH AND CLOCK ESCAPEMENTS CHAPTER I. THE DETACHED LEVER ESCAPEMENT. In this treatise we do not propose to go into the history of this escapement and give a long dissertation on its origin and evolution, but shall confine ourselves strictly to the designing and construction as employed in our best watches. By designing, we mean giving full instructions for drawing an escapement of this kind to the best proportions. The workman will need but few drawing instruments, and a drawing-board about 15" by 18" will be quite large enough. The necessary drawing-instruments are a T-square with 15" blade; a scale of inches divided into decimal parts; two pairs dividers with pen and pencil points--one pair of these dividers to be 5" and the other 6"; one ruling pen. Other instruments can be added as the workman finds he needs them. Those enumerated above, however, will be all that are absolutely necessary. [Illustration: Fig. 1] We shall, in addition, need an arc of degrees, which we can best make for ourselves. To construct one, we procure a piece of No. 24 brass, about 5½" long by 1¼" wide. We show such a piece of brass at _A_, Fig. 1. On this piece of brass we sweep two arcs with a pair of dividers set at precisely 5", as shown (reduced) at _a a_ and _b b_. On these arcs we set off the space held in our dividers--that is 5"--as shown at the short radial lines at each end of the two arcs. Now it is a well-known fact that the space embraced by our dividers contains exactly sixty degrees of the arcs _a a_ and _b b_, or one-sixth of the entire circle; consequently, we divide the arcs _a a_ and _b b_ into sixty equal parts, to represent degrees, and at one end of these arcs we halve five spaces so we can get at half degrees. [Illustration: Fig. 2] Before we take up the details of drawing an escapement we will say a few words about "degrees," as this seems to be something difficult to understand by most pupils in horology when learning to draw parts of watches to scale. At Fig. 2 we show several short arcs of fifteen degrees, all having the common center _g_. Most learners seem to have an idea that a degree must be a specific space, like an inch or a foot. Now the first thing in learning to draw an escapement is to fix in our minds the fact that the extent of a degree depends entirely on the radius of the arc we employ. To aid in this explanation we refer to Fig. 2. Here the arcs _c_, _d_, _e_ and _f_ are all fifteen degrees, although the linear extent of the degree on the arc _c_ is twice that of the degree on the arc _f_. When we speak of a degree in connection with a circle we mean the one-three-hundred-and-sixtieth part of the periphery of such a circle. In dividing the arcs _a a_ and _b b_ we first divide them into six spaces, as shown, and each of these spaces into ten minor spaces, as is also shown. We halve five of the degree spaces, as shown at _h_. We should be very careful about making the degree arcs shown at Fig. 1, as the accuracy of our drawings depends a great deal on the perfection of the division on the scale _A_. In connection with such a fixed scale of degrees as is shown at Fig. 1, a pair of small dividers, constantly set to a degree space, is very convenient. MAKING A PAIR OF DIVIDERS. [Illustration: Fig. 3] To make such a pair of small dividers, take a piece of hard sheet brass about 1/20" thick, ¼" wide, 1½" long, and shape it as shown at Fig. 3. It should be explained, the part cut from the sheet brass is shown below the dotted line _k_, the portion above (_C_) being a round handle turned from hard wood or ivory. The slot _l_ is sawn in, and two holes drilled in the end to insert the needle points _i i_. In making the slot _l_ we arrange to have the needle points come a little too close together to agree with the degree spaces on the arcs _a a_ and _b b_. We then put the small screw _j_ through one of the legs _D''_, and by turning _j_, set the needle points _i i_ to exactly agree with the degree spaces. As soon as the points _i i_ are set correctly, _j_ should be soft soldered fast. The degree spaces on _A_ are set off with these dividers and the spaces on _A_ very carefully marked. The upper and outer arc _a a_ should have the spaces cut with a graver line, while the lower one, _b b_ is best permanently marked with a carefully-made prick punch. After the arc _a a_ is divided, the brass plate _A_ is cut back to this arc so the divisions we have just made are on the edge. The object of having two arcs on the plate _A_ is, if we desire to get at the number of degrees contained in any arc of a 5" radius we lay the scale _A_ so the edge agrees with the arc _a a_, and read off the number of degrees from the scale. In setting dividers we employ the dotted spaces on the arc _b b_. DELINEATING AN ESCAPE WHEEL. [Illustration: Fig. 4] We will now proceed to delineate an escape wheel for a detached lever. We place a piece of good drawing-paper on our drawing-board and provide ourselves with a very hard (HHH) drawing-pencil and a bottle of liquid India ink. After placing our paper on the board, we draw, with the aid of our T-square, a line through the center of the paper, as shown at _m m_, Fig. 4. At 5½" from the lower margin of the paper we establish the point _p_ and sweep the circle _n n_ with a radius of 5". We have said nothing about stretching our paper on the drawing-board; still, carefully-stretched paper is an important part of nice and correct drawing. We shall subsequently give directions for properly stretching paper, but for the present we will suppose the paper we are using is nicely tacked to the face of the drawing-board with the smallest tacks we can procure. The paper should not come quite to the edge of the drawing-board, so as to interfere with the head of the T-square. We are now ready to commence delineating our escape wheel and a set of pallets to match. The simplest form of the detached lever escapement in use is the one known as the "ratchet-tooth lever escapement," and generally found in English lever watches. This form of escapement gives excellent results when well made; and we can only account for it not being in more general use from the fact that the escape-wheel teeth are not so strong and capable of resisting careless usage as the club-tooth escape wheel. It will be our aim to convey broad ideas and inculcate general principles, rather than to give specific instructions for doing "one thing one way." The ratchet-tooth lever escapements of later dates have almost invariably been constructed on the ten-degree lever-and-pallet-action plan; that is, the fork and pallets were intended to act through this arc. Some of the other specimens of this escapement have larger arcs--some as high as twelve degrees. PALLET-AND-FORK ACTION. [Illustration: Fig. 5] We illustrate at Fig. 5 what we mean by ten degrees of pallet-and-fork action. If we draw a line through the center of the pallet staff, and also through the center of the fork slot, as shown at _a b_, Fig. 5, and allow the fork to vibrate five degrees each side of said lines _a b_, to the lines _a c_ and _a c'_, the fork has what we term ten-degree pallet action. If the fork and pallets vibrate six degrees on each side of the line _a b_--that is, to the lines _a d_ and _a d'_--we have twelve degrees pallet action. If we cut the arc down so the oscillation is only four and one-quarter degrees on each side of _a b_, as indicated by the lines _a s_ and _a s'_, we have a pallet-and-fork action of eight and one-half degrees; which, by the way, is a very desirable arc for a carefully-constructed escapement. The controlling idea which would seem to rule in constructing a detached lever escapement, would be to make it so the balance is free of the fork; that is, detached, during as much of the arc of the vibration of the balance as possible, and yet have the action thoroughly sound and secure. Where a ratchet-tooth escapement is thoroughly well-made of eight and one-half degrees of pallet-and-fork action, ten and one-half degrees of escape-wheel action can be utilized, as will be explained later on. We will now resume the drawing of our escape wheel, as illustrated at Fig. 4. In the drawing at Fig. 6 we show the circle _n n_, which represents the periphery of our escape wheel; and in the drawing we are supposed to be drawing it ten inches in diameter. We produce the vertical line _m_ passing through the center _p_ of the circle _n_. From the intersection of the circle _n_ with the line _m_ at _i_ we lay off thirty degrees on each side, and establish the points _e f_; and from the center _p_, through these points, draw the radial lines _p e'_ and _p f'_. The points _f e_, Fig. 6, are, of course, just sixty degrees apart and represent the extent of two and one-half teeth of the escape wheel. There are two systems on which pallets for lever escapements are made, viz., equidistant lockings and circular pallets. The advantages claimed for each system will be discussed subsequently. For the first and present illustration we will assume we are to employ circular pallets and one of the teeth of the escape wheel resting on the pallet at the point _f_; and the escape wheel turning in the direction of the arrow _j_. If we imagine a tooth as indicated at the dotted outline at _D_, Fig. 6, pressing against a surface which coincides with the radial line _p f_, the action would be in the direction of the line _f h_ and at right angles to _p f_. If we reason on the action of the tooth _D_, as it presses against a pallet placed at _f_, we see the action is neutral. [Illustration: Fig. 6] ESTABLISHING THE CENTER OF PALLET STAFF. [Illustration: Fig. 7] With a fifteen-tooth escape wheel each tooth occupies twenty-four degrees, and from the point _f_ to _e_ would be two and one-half tooth-spaces. We show the dotted points of four teeth at _D D' D''D'''_. To establish the center of the pallet staff we draw a line at right angles to the line _p e'_ from the point _e_ so it intersects the line _f h_ at _k_. For drawing a line at right angles to another line, as we have just done, a hard-rubber triangle, shaped as shown at _C_, Fig. 7, can be employed. To use such a triangle, we place it so the right, or ninety-degrees angle, rests at _e_, as shown at the dotted triangle _C_, Fig. 6, and the long side coincides with the radial line _p e'_. If the short side of the hard-rubber triangle is too short, as indicated, we place a short ruler so it rests against the edge, as shown at the dotted line _g e_, Fig. 7, and while holding it securely down on the drawing we remove the triangle, and with a fine-pointed pencil draw the line _e g_, Fig. 6, by the short rule. Let us imagine a flat surface placed at _e_ so its face was at right angles to the line _g e_, which would arrest the tooth _D''_ after the tooth _D_ resting on _f_ had been released and passed through an arc of twelve degrees. A tooth resting on a flat surface, as imagined above, would also rest dead. As stated previously, the pallets we are considering have equidistant locking faces and correspond to the arc _l l_, Fig. 6. In order to realize any power from our escape-wheel tooth, we must provide an impulse face to the pallets faced at _f e_; and the problem before us is to delineate these pallets so that the lever will be propelled through an arc of eight and one-half degrees, while the escape wheel is moving through an arc of ten and one-half degrees. We make the arc of fork action eight and one-half degrees for two reasons--(1) because most text-books have selected ten degrees of fork-and-pallet action; (2) because most of the finer lever escapements of recent construction have a lever action of less than ten degrees. LAYING OUT ESCAPE-WHEEL TEETH. To "lay out" or delineate our escape-wheel teeth, we continue our drawing shown at Fig. 6, and reproduce this cut very nearly at Fig. 8. With our dividers set at five inches, we sweep the short arc _a a'_ from _f_ as a center. It is to be borne in mind that at the point _f_ is located the extreme point of an escape-wheel tooth. On the arc _a a_ we lay off from _p_ twenty-four degrees, and establish the point _b_; at twelve degrees beyond _b_ we establish the point _c_. From _f_ we draw the lines _f b_ and _f c_; these lines establishing the form and thickness of the tooth _D_. To get the length of the tooth, we take in our dividers one-half a tooth space, and on the radial line _p f_ establish the point _d_ and draw circle _d' d'_. To facilitate the drawing of the other teeth, we draw the circles _d' c'_, to which the lines _f b_ and _f c_ are tangent, as shown. We divide the circle _n n_, representing the periphery of our escape wheel, into fifteen spaces, to represent teeth, commencing at _f_ and continued as shown at _o o_ until the entire wheel is divided. We only show four teeth complete, but the same methods as produced these will produce them all. To briefly recapitulate the instructions for drawing the teeth for the ratchet-tooth lever escapement: We draw the face of the teeth at an angle of twenty-four degrees to a radial line; the back of the tooth at an angle of thirty-six degrees to the same radial line; and make teeth half a tooth-space deep or long. [Illustration: Fig. 8] We now come to the consideration of the pallets and how to delineate them. To this we shall add a careful analysis of their action. Let us, before proceeding further, "think a little" over some of the factors involved. To aid in this thinking or reasoning on the matter, let us draw the heavy arc _l_ extending from a little inside of the circle _n_ at _f_ to the circle _n_ at _e_. If now we imagine our escape wheel to be pressed forward in the direction of the arrow _j_, the tooth _D_ would press on the arc _l_ and be held. If, however, we should revolve the arc _l_ on the center _k_ in the direction of the arrow _i_, the tooth _D_ would _escape_ from the edge of _l_ and the tooth _D''_ would pass through an arc (reckoning from the center _p_) of twelve degrees, and be arrested by the inside of the arc _l_ at _e_. If we now should reverse the motion and turn the arc _l_ backward, the tooth at _e_ would, in turn, be released and the tooth following after _D_ (but not shown) would engage _l_ at _f_. By supplying motive to revolve the escape wheel (_E_) represented by the circle _n_, and causing the arc _l_ to oscillate back and forth in exact intervals of time, we should have, in effect, a perfect escapement. To accomplish automatically such oscillations is the problem we have now on hand. HOW MOTION IS OBTAINED. In clocks, the back-and-forth movement, or oscillating motion, is obtained by employing a pendulum; in a movable timepiece we make use of an equally-poised wheel of some weight on a pivoted axle, which device we term a balance; the vibrations or oscillations being obtained by applying a coiled spring, which was first called a "pendulum spring," then a "balance spring," and finally, from its diminutive size and coil form, a "hairspring." We are all aware that for the motive power for keeping up the oscillations of the escaping circle _l_ we must contrive to employ power derived from the teeth _D_ of the escape wheel. About the most available means of conveying power from the escape wheel to the oscillating arc _l_ is to provide the lip of said arc with an inclined plane, along which the tooth which is disengaged from _l_ at _f_ to slide and move said arc _l_ through--in the present instance an arc of eight and one-half degrees, during the time the tooth _D_ is passing through ten and one-half degrees. This angular motion of the arc _l_ is represented by the radial lines _k f'_ and _k r_, Fig. 8. We desire to impress on the reader's mind the idea that each of these angular motions is not only required to be made, but the motion of one mobile must convey power to another mobile. In this case the power conveyed from the mainspring to the escape wheel is to be conveyed to the lever, and by the lever transmitted to the balance. We know it is the usual plan adopted by text-books to lay down a certain formula for drawing an escapement, leaving the pupil to work and reason out the principles involved in the action. In the plan we have adopted we propose to induct the reader into the why and how, and point out to him the rules and methods of analysis of the problem, so that he can, if required, calculate mathematically exactly how many grains of force the fork exerts on the jewel pin, and also how much (or, rather, what percentage) of the motive power is lost in various "power leaks," like "drop" and lost motion. In the present case the mechanical result we desire to obtain is to cause our lever pivoted at _k_ to vibrate back and forth through an arc of eight and one-half degrees; this lever not only to vibrate back and forth, but also to lock and hold the escape wheel during a certain period of time; that is, through the period of time the balance is performing its excursion and the jewel pin free and detached from the fork. We have spoken of paper being employed for drawings, but for very accurate delineations we would recommend the horological student to make drawings on a flat metal plate, after perfectly smoothing the surface and blackening it by oxidizing. PALLET-AND-FORK ACTION. By adopting eight and one-half degrees pallet-and-fork action we can utilize ten and one-half degrees of escape-wheel action. We show at _A A'_, Fig. 9, two teeth of a ratchet-tooth escape wheel reduced one-half; that is, the original drawing was made for an escape wheel ten inches in diameter. We shall make a radical departure from the usual practice in making cuts on an enlarged scale, for only such parts as we are talking about. To explain, we show at Fig. 10 about one-half of an escape wheel one eighth the size of our large drawing; and when we wish to show some portion of such drawing on a larger scale we will designate such enlargement by saying one-fourth, one-half or full size. [Illustration: Fig. 9] At Fig. 9 we show at half size that portion of our escapement embraced by the dotted lines _d_, Fig. 10. This plan enables us to show very minutely such parts as we have under consideration, and yet occupy but little space. The arc _a_, Fig. 9, represents the periphery of the escape wheel. On this line, ten and one-half degrees from the point of the tooth _A_, we establish the point _c_ and draw the radial line _c c'_. It is to be borne in mind that the arc embraced between the points _b_ and _c_ represents the duration of contact between the tooth _A_ and the entrance pallet of the lever. The space or short arc _c n_ represents the "drop" of the tooth. This arc of one and one-half degrees of escape-wheel movement is a complete loss of six and one-fourth per cent. of the entire power of the mainspring, as brought down to the escapement; still, up to the present time, no remedy has been devised to overcome it. All the other escapements, including the chronometer, duplex and cylinder, are quite as wasteful of power, if not more so. It is usual to construct ratchet-tooth pallets so as to utilize but ten degrees of escape-wheel action; but we shall show that half a degree more can be utilized by adopting the eight and one-half degree fork action and employing a double-roller safety action to prevent over-banking. [Illustration: Fig. 10] From the point _e_, which represents the center of the pallet staff, we draw through _b_ the line _e f_. At one degree below _e f_ we draw the line _e g_, and seven and one-half degrees below the line _e g_ we draw the line _e h_. For delineating the lines _e g_, etc., correctly, we employ a degree-arc; that is, on the large drawing we are making we first draw the line _e b f_, Fig. 10, and then, with our dividers set at five inches, sweep the short arc _i_, and on this lay off first one degree from the intersection of _f e_ with the arc _i_, and through this point draw the line _e g_. From the intersection of the line _f e_ with the arc _i_ we lay off eight and one-half degrees, and through this point draw the line _e h_. Bear in mind that we are drawing the pallet at _B_ to represent one with eight and one-half degrees fork-and-pallet action, and with equidistant lockings. If we reason on the matter under consideration, we will see the tooth _A_ and the pallet _B_, against which it acts, part or separate when the tooth arrives at the point _c_; that is, after the escape wheel has moved through ten and one-half degrees of angular motion, the tooth drops from the impulse face of the pallet and falls through one and one-half degrees of arc, when the tooth _A''_, Fig. 10, is arrested by the exit pallet. To locate the position of the inner angle of the pallet _B_, sweep the short arc _l_ by setting the dividers so one point or leg rests at the center _e_ and the other at the point _c_. Somewhere on this arc _l_ is to be located the inner angle of our pallet. In delineating this angle, Moritz Grossman, in his "Prize Essay on the Detached Lever Escapement," makes an error, in Plate III of large English edition, of more than his entire lock, or about two degrees. We make no apologies for calling attention to this mistake on the part of an authority holding so high a position on such matters as Mr. Grossman, because a mistake is a mistake, no matter who makes it. We will say no more of this error at present, but will farther on show drawings of Mr. Grossman's faulty method, and also the correct method of drawing such a pallet. To delineate the locking face of our pallet, from the point formed by the intersection of the lines _e g b b'_, Fig. 9, as a center, we draw the line _j_ at an angle of twelve degrees to _b b''_. In doing this we employ the same method of establishing the angle as we made use of in drawing the lines _e g_ and _e h_, Fig. 10. The line _j_ establishes the locking face of the pallet _B_. Setting the locking face of the pallet at twelve degrees has been found in practice to give a safe "draw" to the pallet and keep the lever secure against the bank. It will be remembered the face of the escape-wheel tooth was drawn at twenty-four degrees to a radial line of the escape wheel, which, in this instance, is the line _b b'_, Fig. 9. It will now be seen that the angle of the pallet just halves this angle, and consequently the tooth _A_ only rests with its point on the locking face of the pallet. We do not show the outlines of the pallet _B_, because we have not so far pointed out the correct method of delineating it. METHODS OF MAKING GOOD DRAWING INSTRUMENTS. Perhaps we cannot do our readers a greater favor than to digress from the study of the detached lever escapement long enough to say a few words about drawing instruments and tablets or surfaces on which to delineate, with due precision, mechanical designs or drawings. Ordinary drawing instruments, even of the higher grades, and costing a good deal of money, are far from being satisfactory to a man who has the proper idea of accuracy to be rated as a first-class mechanic. Ordinary compasses are obstinate when we try to set them to the hundredth of an inch; usually the points are dull and ill-shapen; if they make a puncture in the paper it is unsightly. Watchmakers have one advantage, however, because they can very easily work over a cheap set of drawing instruments and make them even superior to anything they can buy at the art stores. To illustrate, let us take a cheap pair of brass or German-silver five-inch dividers and make them over into needle points and "spring set." To do this the points are cut off at the line _a a_, Fig 11, and a steel tube is gold-soldered on each leg. The steel tube is made by taking a piece of steel wire which will fit a No. 16 chuck of a Whitcomb lathe, and drilling a hole in the end about one-fourth of an inch deep and about the size of a No. 3 sewing needle. We Show at Fig. 12 a view of the point _A'_, Fig. 11, enlarged, and the steel tube we have just drilled out attached at _C_. About the best way to attach _C_ is to solder. After the tube _C_ is attached a hole is drilled through _A'_ at _d_, and the thumb-screw _d_ inserted. This thumb-screw should be of steel, and hardened and tempered. The use of this screw is to clamp the needle point. With such a device as the tube _C_ and set-screw _d_, a No. 3 needle is used for a point; but for drawings on paper a turned point, as shown at Fig 13, is to be preferred. Such points can be made from a No. 3 needle after softening enough to be turned so as to form the point _c_. This point at the shoulder _f_ should be about 12/1000 of an inch, or the size of a fourth-wheel pivot to an eighteen size movement. [Illustration: Fig. 11] [Illustration: Fig. 12] [Illustration: Fig. 13] [Illustration: Fig. 14] The idea is, when drawing on paper the point _c_ enters the paper. For drawing on metal the form of the point is changed to a simple cone, as shown at _B'_ _c_, Fig. 13. such cones can be turned carefully, then hardened and tempered to a straw color; and when they become dull, can be ground by placing the points in a wire chuck and dressing them up with an emery buff or an Arkansas slip. The opposite leg of the dividers is the one to which is attached the spring for close setting of the points. In making this spring, we take a piece of steel about two and one-fourth inches long and of the same width as the leg of the divider, and attach it to the inside of the leg as shown at Fig. 14, where _D_ represents the spring and _A_ the leg of the dividers. The spring _D_ has a short steel tube _C''_ and set-screw _d''_ for a fine point like _B_ or _B'_. In the lower end of the leg _A_, Fig. 14, is placed the milled-head screw _g_, which serves to adjust the two points of the dividers to very close distances. The spring _D_ is, of course, set so it would press close to the leg _A_ if the screw _g_ did not force it away. SPRING AND ADJUSTING SCREW FOR DRAWING INSTRUMENTS. [Illustration: Fig. 15] It will be seen that we can apply a spring _D_ and adjusting screw opposite to the leg which carries the pen or pencil point of all our dividers if we choose to do so; but it is for metal drawing that such points are of the greatest advantage, as we can secure an accuracy very gratifying to a workman who believes in precision. For drawing circles on metal, "bar compasses" are much the best, as they are almost entirely free from spring, which attends the jointed compass. To make (because they cannot be bought) such an instrument, take a piece of flat steel, one-eighth by three-eighths of an inch and seven inches long, and after turning and smoothing it carefully, make a slide half an inch wide, as shown at Fig. 15, with a set-screw _h_ on top to secure it at any point on the bar _E_. In the lower part of the slide _F_ is placed a steel tube like _C_, shown in Figs. 12 and 14, with set-screw for holding points like _B B'_, Fig. 13. At the opposite end of the bar _E_ is placed a looped spring _G_, which carries a steel tube and point like the spring _D_, Fig. 14. Above this tube and point, shown at _j_, Fig. 15, is placed an adjustment screw _k_ for fine adjustment. The inner end of the screw _k_ rests against the end of the bar _E_. The tendency of the spring _G_ is to close upon the end of _E_; consequently if we make use of the screw _k_ to force away the lower end of _G_, we can set the fine point in _j_ to the greatest exactness. The spring _G_ is made of a piece of steel one-eighth of an inch square, and secured to the bar _E_ with a screw and steady pins at _m_. A pen and pencil point attachment can be added to the spring _G_; but in case this is done it would be better to make another spring like _G_ without the point _j_, and with the adjusting screw placed at _l_. In fitting pen and pencil points to a spring like _G_ it would probably be economical to make them outright; that is, make the blades and screw for the ruling pen and a spring or clamping tube for the pencil point. CONSIDERATION OF DETACHED LEVER ESCAPEMENT RESUMED. We will now, with our improved drawing instruments, resume the consideration of the ratchet-tooth lever escapement. We reproduce at Fig. 16 a portion of diagram III, from Moritz Grossmann's "Prize Essay on the Detached Lever Escapement," in order to point out the error in delineating the entrance pallet to which we previously called attention. The cut, as we give it, is not quite one-half the size of Mr. Grossmann's original plate. In the cut we give the letters of reference employed the same as on the original engraving, except where we use others in explanation. The angular motion of the lever and pallet action as shown in the cut is ten degrees; but in our drawing, where we only use eight and one-half degrees, the same mistake would give proportionate error if we did not take the means to correct it. The error to which we refer lies in drawing the impulse face of the entrance pallet. The impulse face of this pallet as drawn by Mr. Grossmann would not, from the action of the engaging tooth, carry this pallet through more than eight degrees of angular motion; consequently, the tooth which should lock on the exit pallet would fail to do so, and strike the impulse face. We would here beg to add that nothing will so much instruct a person desiring to acquire sound ideas on escapements as making a large model. The writer calls to mind a wood model of a lever escapement made by one of the "boys" in the Elgin factory about a year or two after Mr. Grossmann's prize essay was published. It went from hand to hand and did much toward establishing sound ideas as regards the correct action of the lever escapement in that notable concern. If a horological student should construct a large model on the lines laid down in Mr. Grossmann's work, the entrance pallet would be faulty in form and would not properly perform its functions. Why? perhaps says our reader. In reply let us analyze the action of the tooth _B_ as it rests on the pallet _A_. Now, if we move this pallet through an angular motion of one and one-half degrees on the center _g_ (which also represents the center of the pallet staff), the tooth _B_ is disengaged from the locking face and commences to slide along the impulse face of the pallet and "drops," that is, falls from the pallet, when the inner angle of the pallet is reached. [Illustration: Fig. 16] This inner angle, as located by Mr. Grossmann, is at the intersection of the short arc _i_ with the line _g n_, which limits the ten-degree angular motion of the pallets. If we carefully study the drawing, we will see the pallet has only to move through eight degrees of angular motion of the pallet staff for the tooth to escape, _because the tooth certainly must be disengaged when the inner angle of the pallet reaches the peripheral line a_. The true way to locate the position of the inner angle of the pallet, is to measure down on the arc _i_ ten degrees from its intersection with the peripheral line _a_ and locate a point to which a line is drawn from the intersection of the line _g m_ with the radial line _a c_, thus defining the inner angle of the entrance pallet. We will name this point the point _x_. It may not be amiss to say the arc _i_ is swept from the center _g_ through the point _u_, said point being located ten degrees from the intersection of the radial _a c_ with the peripheral line _a_. It will be noticed that the inner angle of the entrance pallet _A_ seems to extend inward, beyond the radial line _a j_, that is, toward the pallet center _g_, and gives the appearance of being much thicker than the exit pallet _A'_; but we will see on examination that the extreme angle _x_ of the entrance pallet must move on the arc _i_ and, consequently, cross the peripheral line _a_ at the point _u_. If we measure the impulse faces of the two pallets _A A'_, we will find them nearly alike in linear extent. Mr. Grossmann, in delineating his exit pallet, brings the extreme angle (shown at _4_) down to the periphery of the escape, as shown in the drawing, where it extends beyond the intersection of the line _g f_ with the radial line _a 3_. The correct form for the entrance pallet should be to the dotted line _z x y_. [Illustration: Fig. 17] We have spoken of engaging and disengaging frictions; we do not know how we can better explain this term than by illustrating the idea with a grindstone. Suppose two men are grinding on the same stone; each has, say, a cold chisel to grind, as shown at Fig. 17, where _G_ represents the grindstone and _N N'_ the cold chisels. The grindstone is supposed to be revolving in the direction of the arrow. The chisels _N_ and _N'_ are both being ground, but the chisel _N'_ is being cut much the more rapidly, as each particle of grit of the stone as it catches on the steel causes the chisel to hug the stone and bite in deeper and deeper; while the chisel shown at _N_ is thrust away by the action of the grit. Now, friction of any kind is only a sort of grinding operation, and the same principles hold good. THE NECESSITY FOR GOOD INSTRUMENTS. It is to be hoped the reader who intends to profit by this treatise has fitted up such a pair of dividers as those we have described, because it is only with accurate instruments he can hope to produce drawings on which any reliance can be placed. The drawing of a ratchet-tooth lever escapement of eight and one-half degrees pallet action will now be resumed. In the drawing at Fig. 18 is shown a complete delineation of such an escapement with eight and one-half degrees of pallet action and equidistant locking faces. It is, of course, understood the escape wheel is to be drawn ten inches in diameter, and that the degree arcs shown in Fig. 1 will be used. We commence by carefully placing on the drawing-board a sheet of paper about fifteen inches square, and then vertically through the center draw the line _a' a''_. At some convenient position on this line is established the point _a_, which represents the center of the escape wheel. In this drawing it is not important that the entire escape wheel be shown, inasmuch as we have really to do with but a little over sixty degrees of the periphery of the escape wheel. With the dividers carefully set at five inches, from _a_, as a center, we sweep the arc _n n_, and from the intersection of the perpendicular line _a' a''_ with the arc _n_ we lay off on each side thirty degrees from the brass degree arc, and through the points thus established are drawn the radial lines _a b'_ and _a d'_. [Illustration: Fig. 18] The point on the arc _n_ where it intersects with the line _b'_ is termed the point _b_. At the intersection of the radial line _a d'_ is established the point _d_. We take ten and one-half degrees in the dividers, and from the point _b_ establish the point _c_, which embraces the arc of the escape wheel which is utilized by the pallet action. Through the point _b_ the line _h' h_ is drawn at right angles to the line _a b'_. The line _j j'_ is also drawn at right angles to the line _a d'_ through the point _d_. We now have an intersection of the lines just drawn in common with the line _a a'_ at the point _g_, said point indicating the center of the pallet action. The dividers are now set to embrace the space between the points _b_ and _g_ on the line _h' h_, and the arc _f f_ is swept; which, in proof of the accuracy of the work, intersects the arc _n_ at the point _d_. This arc coincides with the locking faces of both pallets. To lay out the entrance pallet, the dividers are set to five inches, and from _g_ as a center the short arc _o o_ is swept. On this arc one degree is laid off below the line _h' h_, and the line _g i_ drawn. The space embraced between the lines _h_ and _i_ on the arc _f_ represents the locking face of the entrance pallet, and the point formed at the intersection of the line _g i_ with the arc _f_ is called the point _p_. To give the proper lock to the face of the pallet, from the point _p_ as a center is swept the short arc _r r_, and from its intersection with the line _a b'_ twelve degrees are laid off and the line _b s_ drawn, which defines the locking face of the entrance pallet. From _g_ as a center is swept the arc _c' c'_, intersecting the arc _n n_ at _c_. On this arc (_c_) is located the inner angle of the entrance pallet. The dividers are set to embrace the space on the arc _c'_ between the lines _g h'_ and _g k_. With this space in the dividers one leg is set at the point _c_, measuring down on the arc _c'_ and establishing the point _t_. The points _p_ and _t_ are then connected, and thus the impulse face of the entrance pallet _B_ is defined. From the point _t_ is drawn the line _t t'_, parallel to the line _b s_, thus defining the inner face of the entrance pallet. DELINEATING THE EXIT PALLET. To delineate the exit pallet, sweep the short arc _u u_ (from _g_ as a center) with the dividers set at five inches, and from the intersection of this arc with the line _g j'_ set off eight and one-half degrees and draw the line _g l_. At one degree below this line is drawn the line _g m_. The space on the arc _f_ between these lines defines the locking face of the exit pallet. The point where the line _g m_ intersects the arc _f_ is named the point _x_. From the point _x_ is erected the line _x w_, perpendicular to the line _g m_. From _x_ as a center, and with the dividers set at five inches, the short arc _y y_ is swept, and on this arc are laid off twelve degrees, and the line _x z_ is drawn, which line defines the locking face of the exit pallet. Next is taken ten and one-half degrees from the brass degree-scale, and from the point _d_ on the arc _n_ the space named is laid off, and thus is established the point _v_; and from _g_ as a center is swept the arc _v' v'_ through the point _v_. It will be evident on a little thought, that if the tooth _A'_ impelled the exit pallet to the position shown, the outer angle of the pallet must extend down to the point _v_, on the arc _v' v'_; consequently, we define the impulse face of this pallet by drawing a line from point _x_ to _v_. To define the outer face of the exit pallet, we draw the line _v e_ parallel to the line _x z_. There are no set rules for drawing the general form of the pallet arms, only to be governed by and conforming to about what we would deem appropriate, and to accord with a sense of proportion and mechanical elegance. Ratchet-tooth pallets are usually made in what is termed "close pallets"; that is, the pallet jewel is set in a slot sawed in the steel pallet arm, which is undoubtedly the strongest and most serviceable form of pallet made. We shall next consider the ratchet-tooth lever escapement with circular pallets and ten degrees of pallet action. DELINEATING CIRCULAR PALLETS. To delineate "circular pallets" for a ratchet-tooth lever escapement, we proceed very much as in the former drawing, by locating the point _A_, which represents the center of the escape wheel, at some convenient point, and with the dividers set at five inches, sweep the arc _m_, to represent the periphery of the escape wheel, and then draw the vertical line _A B'_, Fig. 19. We (as before) lay off thirty degrees on the arc _m_ each side of the intersection of said arc with the line _A B'_, and thus establish on the arc _m_ the points _a b_, and from _A_ as a center draw through the points so established the radial lines _A a'_ and _A b'_. We erect from the point _a_ a perpendicular to the line _A a_, and, as previously explained, establish the pallet center at _B_. Inasmuch as we are to employ circular pallets, we lay off to the left on the arc _m_, from the point _a_, five degrees, said five degrees being half of the angular motion of the escape wheel utilized in the present drawing, and thus establish the point _c_, and from _A_ as a center draw through this point the radial line _A c'_. To the right of the point _a_ we lay off five degrees and establish the point _d_. To illustrate the underlying principle of our circular pallets: with one leg of the dividers set at _B_ we sweep through the points _c a d_ the arcs _c'' a'' d''_. From _B_ as a center, we continue the line _B a_ to _f_, and with the dividers set at five inches, sweep the short arc _e e_. From the intersection of this arc with the line _B f_ we lay off one and a half degrees and draw the line _B g_, which establishes the extent of the lock on the entrance pallet. It will be noticed the linear extent of the locking face of the entrance pallet is greater than that of the exit, although both represent an angle of one and a half degrees. Really, in practice, this discrepancy is of little importance, as the same side-shake in banking would secure safety in either case. [Illustration: Fig. 19] The fault we previously pointed out, of the generally accepted method of delineating a detached lever escapement, is not as conspicuous here as it is where the pallets are drawn with equidistant locking faces; that is, the inner angle of the entrance pallet (shown at _s_) does not have to be carried down on the arc _d'_ as far to insure a continuous pallet action of ten degrees, as with the pallets with equidistant locking faces. Still, even here we have carried the angle _s_ down about half a degree on the arc _d'_, to secure a safe lock on the exit pallet. THE AMOUNT OF LOCK. If we study the large drawing, where we delineate the escape wheel ten inches in diameter, it will readily be seen that although we claim one and a half degrees lock, we really have only about one degree, inasmuch as the curve of the peripheral line _m_ diverges from the line _B f_, and, as a consequence, the absolute lock of the tooth _C_ on the locking face of the entrance pallet _E_ is but about one degree. Under these conditions, if we did not extend the outer angle of the exit pallet at _t_ down to the peripheral line _m_, we would scarcely secure one-half a degree of lock. This is true of both pallets. We must carry the pallet angles at _r s n t_ down on the circles _c'' d'_ if we would secure the lock and impulse we claim; that is, one and a half degrees lock and eight and a half degrees impulse. Now, while the writer is willing to admit that a one-degree lock in a sound, well-made escapement is ample, still he is not willing to allow of a looseness of drawing to incorporate to the extent of one degree in any mechanical matter demanding such extreme accuracy as the parts of a watch. It has been claimed that such defects can, to a great extent, be remedied by setting the escapement closer; that is, by bringing the centers of the pallet staff and escape wheel nearer together. We hold that such a course is not mechanical and, further, that there is not the slightest necessity for such a policy. ADVANTAGE OF MAKING LARGE DRAWINGS. By making the drawings large, as we have already suggested and insisted upon, we can secure an accuracy closely approximating perfection. As, for instance, if we wish to get a lock of one and a half degrees on the locking face of the entrance pallet _E_, we measure down on the arc _c''_ from its intersection with the peripheral line _m_ one and a half degrees, and establish the point _r_ and thus locate the outer angle of the entrance pallet _E_, so there will really be one and a half degrees of lock; and by measuring down on the arc _d'_ ten degrees from its intersection with the peripheral line _m_, we locate the point _s_, which determines the position of the inner angle of the entrance pallet, and we know for a certainty that when this inner angle is freed from the tooth it will be after the pallet (and, of course, the lever) has passed through exactly ten degrees of angular motion. For locating the inner angle of the exit pallet, we measure on the arc _d'_, from its intersection with the peripheral line _m_, eight and a half degrees, and establish the point _n_, which locates the position of this inner angle; and, of course, one and a half degrees added on the arc _d'_ indicates the extent of the lock on this pallet. Such drawings not only enable us to theorize to extreme exactness, but also give us proportionate measurements, which can be carried into actual construction. THE CLUB-TOOTH LEVER ESCAPEMENT. We will now take up the club-tooth form of the lever escapement. This form of tooth has in the United States and in Switzerland almost entirely superceded the ratchet tooth. The principal reason for its finding so much favor is, we think, chiefly owing to the fact that this form of tooth is better able to stand the manipulations of the able-bodied watchmaker, who possesses more strength than skill. We will not pause now, however, to consider the comparative merits of the ratchet and club-tooth forms of the lever escapement, but leave this part of the theme for discussion after we have given full instructions for delineating both forms. With the ratchet-tooth lever escapement all of the impulse must be derived from the pallets, but in the club-tooth escapement we can divide the impulse planes between the pallets and the teeth to suit our fancy; or perhaps it would be better to say carry out theories, because we have it in our power, in this form of the lever escapement, to indulge ourselves in many changes of the relations of the several parts. With the ratchet tooth the principal changes we could make would be from pallets with equidistant lockings to circular pallets. The club-tooth escape wheel not only allows of circular pallets and equidistant lockings, but we can divide the impulse between the pallets and the teeth in such a way as will carry out many theoretical advantages which, after a full knowledge of the escapement action is acquired, will naturally suggest themselves. In the escapement shown at Fig. 20 we have selected, as a very excellent example of this form of tooth, circular pallets of ten degrees fork action and ten and a half degrees of escape-wheel action. It will be noticed that the pallets here are comparatively thin to those in general use; this condition is accomplished by deriving the principal part of the impulse from driving planes placed on the teeth. As relates to the escape-wheel action of the ten and one-half degrees, which gives impulse to the escapement, five and one-half degrees are utilized by the driving planes on the teeth and five by the impulse face of the pallet. Of the ten degrees of fork action, four and a half degrees relate to the impulse face of the teeth, one and a half degrees to lock, and four degrees to the driving plane of the pallets. In delineating such a club-tooth escapement, we commence, as in former examples, by first assuming the center of the escape wheel at _A_, and with the dividers set at five inches sweeping the arc _a a_. Through _A_ we draw the vertical line _A B'_. On the arc _a a_, and each side of its intersection with the line _A B'_, we lay off thirty degrees, as in former drawings, and through the points so established on the arc _a a_ we draw the radial lines _A b_ and _A c_. From the intersection of the radial line _A b_ with the arc _a_ we draw the line _h h_ at right angles to _A b_. Where the line _h_ intersects the radial lines _A B'_ is located the center of the pallet staff, as shown at _B_. Inasmuch as we decided to let the pallet utilize five degrees of escape-wheel action, we take a space of two and a half degrees in the dividers, and on the arc _a a_ lay off the said two and a half degrees to the left of this intersection, and through the point so established draw the radial line _A g_. From _B_ as a center we sweep the arc _d d_ so it passes through the point of intersection of the arc _a_ with the line _A g_. [Illustration: Fig. 20] We again lay off two and a half degrees from the intersection of the line _A b_ with the arc _a_, but this time to the right of said intersection, and through the point so established, and from _B_ as a center, we sweep the arc _e_. From the intersection of the radial line _A g_ with the arc _a_ we lay off to the left five and a half degrees on said arc, and through the point so established draw the radial line _A f_. With the dividers set at five inches we sweep the short arc _m_ from _B_ as a center. From the intersection of the line _h B h'_ with the arc _m_ we lay off on said arc and above the line _h'_ four and a half degrees, and through the point so established draw the line _B j_. We next set the dividers so they embrace the space on the radial line _A b_ between its intersection with the line _B j_ and the center _A_, and from _A_ as a center sweep the arc _i_, said arc defining the _addendum_ of the escape-wheel teeth. We draw a line from the intersection of the radial line _A f_ with the arc _i_ to the intersection of the radial line _A g_ with the arc _a_, and thus define the impulse face of the escape-wheel tooth _D_. For defining the locking face of the tooth we draw a line at an angle of twenty-four degrees to the line _A g_, as previously described. The back of the tooth is defined with a curve swept from some point on the addendum circle _i_, such as our judgment will dictate. In the drawing shown at Fig. 20 the radius of this curve was obtained by taking eleven and a half degrees from the degree arc of 5" radius in the dividers, and setting one leg at the intersection of the radial line _A f_ with the arc _i_, and placing the other on the line _i_, and allowing the point so established to serve as a center, the arc was swept for the back of the tooth, the small circle at _n_ denoting one of the centers just described. The length for the face of the tooth was obtained by taking eleven degrees from the degree arc just referred to and laying that space off on the line _p_, which defined the face of the tooth. The line _B k_ is laid off one and a half degrees below _B h_ on the arc _m_. The extent of this arc on the arc _d_ defines the locking face of the entrance pallet. We set off four degrees on the arc _m_ below the line _B k_, and through the point so established draw the line _B l_. We draw a line from the intersection of the line _A g_ with the line _c h_ to the intersection of the arc _e_ with the line _c l_, and define the impulse face of the entrance pallet. RELATIONS OF THE SEVERAL PARTS. Before we proceed to delineate the exit pallet of our escapement, let us reason on the relations of the several parts. The club-tooth lever escapement is really the most complicated escapement made. We mean by this that there are more factors involved in the problem of designing it correctly than in any other known escapement. Most--we had better say all, for there are no exceptions which occur to us--writers on the lever escapement lay down certain empirical rules for delineating the several parts, without giving reasons for this or that course. For illustration, it is an established practice among escapement makers to employ tangential lockings, as we explained and illustrated in Fig. 16. Now, when we adopt circular pallets and carry the locking face of the entrance pallet around to the left two and a half degrees, the true center for the pallet staff, if we employ tangent lockings, would be located on a line drawn tangent to the circle _a a_ from its intersection with the radial line _A k_, Fig. 21. Such a tangent is depicted at the line _s l'_. If we reason on the situation, we will see that the line _A k_ is not at right angles to the line _s l_; and, consequently, the locking face of the entrance pallet _E_ has not really the twelve-degree lock we are taught to believe it has. [Illustration: Fig. 21] We will not discuss these minor points further at present, but leave them for subsequent consideration. We will say, however, that we could locate the center of the pallet action at the small circle _B'_ above the center _B_, which we have selected as our fork-and-pallet action, and secure a perfectly sound escapement, with several claimed advantages. Let us now take up the delineation of the exit pallet. It is very easy to locate the outer angle of this pallet, as this must be situated at the intersection of the addendum circle _i_ and the arc _g_, and located at _o_. It is also self-evident that the inner or locking angle must be situated at some point on the arc _h_. To determine this location we draw the line _B c_ from _B_ (the pallet center) through the intersection of the arc _h_ with the pitch circle _a_. Again, it follows as a self-evident fact, if the pallet we are dealing with was locked, that is, engaged with the tooth _D''_, the inner angle _n_ of the exit pallet would be one and a half degrees inside the pitch circle _a_. With the dividers set at 5", we sweep the short arc _b b_, and from the intersection of this arc with the line _B c_ we lay off ten degrees, and through the point so established, from _B_, we draw the line _B d_. Below the point of intersection of the line _B d_ with the short arc _b b_ we lay off one and a half degrees, and through the point thus established we draw the line _B e_. LOCATING THE INNER ANGLE OF THE EXIT PALLET. The intersection of the line _B e_ with the arc _h_, which we will term the point _n_, represents the location of the inner angle of the exit pallet. We have already explained how we located the position of the outer angle at _o_. We draw the line _n o_ and define the impulse face of the exit pallet. If we mentally analyze the problem in hand, we will see that as the exit pallet vibrates through its ten degrees of arc the line _B d_ and _B c_ change places, and the tooth _D''_ locks one and a half degrees. To delineate the locking face of the exit pallet, we erect a perpendicular to the line _B e_ from the point _n_, as shown by the line _n p_. From _n_ as a center we sweep the short arc _t t_, and from its intersection with the line _n p_ we lay off twelve degrees, and through the point so established we draw the line _n u_, which defines the locking face of the exit pallet. We draw the line _o o'_ parallel with _n u_ and define the outer face of said pallet. In Fig. 21 we have not made any attempt to show the full outline of the pallets, as they are delineated in precisely the same manner as those previously shown. We shall next describe the delineation of a club-tooth escapement with pallets having equidistant locking faces; and in Fig. 22 we shall show pallets with much wider arms, because, in this instance, we shall derive more of the impulse from the pallets than from the teeth. We do this to show the horological student the facility with which the club-tooth lever escapement can be manipulated. We wish also to impress on his mind the facts that the employment of thick pallet arms and thin pallet arms depends on the teeth of the escape wheel for its efficiency, and that he must have knowledge enough of the principles of action to tell at a glance on what lines the escapement was constructed. Suppose, for illustration, we get hold of a watch which has thin pallet arms, or stones, if they are exposed pallets, and the escape was designed for pallets with thick arms. There is no sort of tinkering we can do to give such a watch a good motion, except to change either the escape wheel or the pallets. If we know enough of the lever escapement to set about it with skill and judgment, the matter is soon put to rights; but otherwise we can look and squint, open and close the bankings, and tinker about till doomsday, and the watch be none the better. CLUB-TOOTH LEVER WITH EQUIDISTANT LOCKING FACES. In drawing a club-tooth lever escapement with equidistant locking, we commence, as on former occasions, by producing the vertical line _A k_, Fig. 22, and establishing the center of the escape wheel at _A_, and with the dividers set at 5" sweep the pitch circle _a_. On each side of the intersection of the vertical line _A k_ with the arc _a_ we set off thirty degrees on said arc, and through the points so established draw the radial lines _A b_ and _A c_. From the intersection of the radial line _A b_ with the arc _a_ lay off three and a half degrees to the left of said intersection on the arc _a_, and through the point so established draw the radial line _A e_. From the intersection of the radial line _A b_ with the arc _a_ erect the perpendicular line _f_, and at the crossing or intersection of said line with the vertical line _A k_ establish the center of the pallet staff, as indicated by the small circle _B_. From _B_ as a center sweep the short arc _l_ with a 5" radius; and from the intersection of the radial line _A b_ with the arc _a_ continue the line _f_ until it crosses the short arc _l_, as shown at _f'_. Lay off one and a half degrees on the arc _l_ below its intersection with the line _f'_, and from _B_ as a center draw the line _B_ _i_ through said intersection. From _B_ as a center, through the intersection of the radial line _A b_ and the arc _a_, sweep the arc _g_. The space between the lines _B f'_ and _B i_ on the arc _g_ defines the extent of the locking face of the entrance pallet _C_. The intersection of the line _B f'_ with the arc _g_ we denominate the point _o_, and from this point as a center sweep the short arc _p_ with a 5" radius; and on this arc, from its intersection with the radial line _A b_, lay off twelve degrees, and through the point so established, from _o_ as a center, draw the radial line _o m_, said line defining the locking face of the entrance pallet _C_. [Illustration: Fig. 22] It will be seen that this gives a positive "draw" of twelve degrees to the entrance pallet; that is, counting to the line _B f'_. In this escapement as delineated there is perfect tangential locking. If the locking face of the entrance-pallet stone at _C_ was made to conform to the radial line _A b_, the lock of the tooth _D_ at _o_ would be "dead"; that is, absolutely neutral. The tooth _D_ would press the pallet _C_ in the direction of the arrow _x_, toward the center of the pallet staff _B_, with no tendency on the part of the pallet to turn on its axis _B_. Theoretically, the pallet with the locking face cut to coincide with the line _A b_ would resist movement on the center _B_ in either direction indicated by the double-headed arrow _y_. A pallet at _C_ with a circular locking face made to conform to the arc _g_, would permit movement in the direction of the double-headed arrow _y_ with only mechanical effort enough to overcome friction. But it is evident on inspection that a locking face on the line _A b_ would cause a retrograde motion of the escape wheel, and consequent resistance, if said pallet was moved in either direction indicated by the double-headed arrow _y_. Precisely the same conditions obtain at the point _u_, which holds the same relations to the exit pallet as the point _o_ does to the entrance pallet _C_. ANGULAR MOTION OF ESCAPE WHEEL DETERMINED. The arc (three and a half degrees) of the circle _a_ embraced between the radial lines _A b_ and _A e_ determines the angular motion of the escape wheel utilized by the escape-wheel tooth. To establish and define the extent of angular motion of the escape wheel utilized by the pallet, we lay off seven degrees on the arc _a_ from the point _o_ and establish the point _n_, and through the point _n_, from _B_ as a center, we sweep the short arc _n'_. Now somewhere on this arc _n'_ will be located the inner angle of the entrance pallet. With a carefully-made drawing, having the escape wheel 10" in diameter, it will be seen that the arc _a_ separates considerably from the line, _B f'_ where it crosses the arc _n'_. It will be remembered that when drawing the ratchet-tooth lever escapement a measurement of eight and a half degrees was made on the arc _n'_ down from its intersection with the pitch circle, and thus the inner angle of the pallet was located. In the present instance the addendum line _w_ becomes the controlling arc, and it will be further noticed on the large drawing that the line _B h_ at its intersection with the arc _n'_ approaches nearer to the arc _w_ than does the line _B f'_ to the pitch circle _a_; consequently, the inner angle of the pallet should not in this instance be carried down on the arc _n'_ so far to correct the error as in the ratchet tooth. Reason tells us that if we measure ten degrees down on the arc _n'_ from its intersection with the addendum circle _w_ we must define the position of the inner angle of the entrance pallet. We name the point so established the point _r_. The outer angle of this pallet is located at the intersection of the radial line _A b_ with the line _B i_; said intersection we name the point _v_. Draw a line from the point _v_ to the point _r_, and we define the impulse face of the entrance pallet; and the angular motion obtained from it as relates to the pallet staff embraces six degrees. Measured on the arc _l_, the entire ten degrees of angular motion is as follows: Two and a half degrees from the impulse face of the tooth, and indicated between the lines _B h_ and _B f_; one and a half degrees lock between the lines _B f'_ and _B i_; six degrees impulse from pallet face, entrance between the lines _B i_ and _B j_. A DEPARTURE FROM FORMER PRACTICES. Grossmann and Britten, in all their delineations of the club-tooth escapement, show the exit pallet as disengaged. To vary from this beaten track we will draw our exit pallet as locked. There are other reasons which prompt us to do this, one of which is, pupils are apt to fall into a rut and only learn to do things a certain way, and that way just as they are instructed. To illustrate, the writer has met several students of the lever escapement who could make drawings of either club or ratchet-tooth escapement with the lock on the entrance pallet; but when required to draw a pallet as illustrated at Fig. 23, could not do it correctly. Occasionally one could do it, but the instances were rare. A still greater poser was to request them to delineate a pallet and tooth when the action of escaping was one-half or one-third performed; and it is easy to understand that only by such studies the master workman can thoroughly comprehend the complications involved in the club-tooth lever escapement. AN APT ILLUSTRATION. As an illustration: Two draughtsmen, employed by two competing watch factories, each designs a club-tooth escapement. We will further suppose the trains and mainspring power used by each concern to be precisely alike. But in practice the escapement of the watches made by one factory would "set," that is, if you stopped the balance dead still, with the pin in the fork, the watch would not start of itself; while the escapement designed by the other draughtsman would not "set"--stop the balance dead as often as you choose, the watch would start of itself. Yet even to experienced workmen the escape wheels and pallets _looked_ exactly alike. Of course, there was a difference, and still none of the text-books make mention of it. For the present we will go on with delineating our exit pallet. The preliminaries are the same as with former drawings, the instructions for which we need not repeat. Previous to drawing the exit pallet, let us reason on the matter. The point _r_ in Fig. 23 is located at the intersection of pitch circle _a_ and the radial line _A c_; and this will also be the point at which the tooth _C_ will engage the locking face of the exit pallet. This point likewise represents the advance angle of the engaging tooth. Now if we measure on the arc _k_ (which represents the locking faces of both pallets) downward one and a half degrees, we establish the lock of the pallet _E_. To get this one and a half degrees defined on the arc _k_, we set the dividers at 5", and from _B_ as a center sweep the short arc _i_, and from the intersection of the arc _i_ with the line _B e_ we lay off on said arc _i_ one and a half degrees, and through the point so established draw the line _B f_. Now the space on the arc _k_ between the lines _B e_ and _B f_ defines the angular extent of the locking face. With the dividers set at 5" and one leg resting at the point _r_, we sweep the short arc _t_, and from the intersection of said arc with the line _A c_ we draw the line _n p_; but in doing so we extend it (the line) so that it intersects the line _B f_, and at said intersection is located the inner angle of the exit pallet. This intersection we will name the point _n_. [Illustration: Fig. 23] From the intersection of the line _B e_ with the arc _i_ we lay off two and a half degrees on said arc, and through the point so established we draw the line _B g_. The intersection of this line with the arc _k_ we name the point _z_. With one leg of our dividers set at _A_ we sweep the arc _l_ so it passes through the point _z_. This last arc defines the addendum of the escape-wheel teeth. From the point _r_ on the arc _a_ we lay off three and a half degrees, and through the point so established draw the line _A j_. LOCATING THE OUTER ANGLE OF THE IMPULSE PLANES. The intersection of this line with the addendum arc _l_ locates the outer angle of the impulse planes of the teeth, and we name it the point _x_. From the point _r_ we lay off on the arc _a_ seven degrees and establish the point _v_, which defines the extent of the angular motion of the escape wheel utilized by pallet. Through the point _v_, from _B_ as a center, we sweep the short arc _m_. It will be evident on a moment's reflection that this arc _m_ must represent the path of movement of the outer angle of the exit pallet, and if we measure down ten degrees from the intersection of the arc _l_ with the arc _m_, the point so established (which we name the point _s_) must be the exact position of the outer angle of the pallet during locking. We have a measure of ten degrees on the arc _m_, between the lines _B g_ and _B h_, and by taking this space in the dividers and setting one leg at the intersection of the arc _l_ with the arc _m_, and measuring down on _m_, we establish the point _s_. Drawing a line from point _n_ to point _s_ we define the impulse face of the pallet. MAKING AN ESCAPEMENT MODEL. [Illustration: Fig. 24] It is next proposed we apply the theories we have been considering and make an enlarged model of an escapement, as shown at Figs. 24 and 25. This model is supposed to have an escape wheel one-fifth the size of the 10" one we have been drawing. In the accompanying cuts are shown only the main plate and bridges in full lines, while the positions of the escape wheel and balance are indicated by the dotted circles _I B_. The cuts are to no precise scale, but were reduced from a full-size drawing for convenience in printing. We shall give exact dimensions, however, so there will be no difficulty in carrying out our instructions in construction. [Illustration: Fig. 25] Perhaps it would be as well to give a general description of the model before taking up the details. A reduced side view of the complete model is given at Fig. 26. In this cut the escapement model shown at Figs. 24 and 25 is sketched in a rough way at _R_, while _N_ shows a glass cover, and _M_ a wooden base of polished oak or walnut. This base is recessed on the lower side to receive an eight-day spring clock movement, which supplies the motive power for the model. This base is recessed on top to receive the main plate _A_, Fig. 24, and also to hold the glass shade _N_ in position. The base _M_ is 2½" high and 8" diameter. The glass cover _N_ can have either a high and spherical top, as shown, or, as most people prefer, a flattened oval. [Illustration: Fig. 26] The main plate _A_ is of hard spring brass, 1/10" thick and 6" in diameter; in fact, a simple disk of the size named, with slightly rounded edges. The top plate, shown at _C_, Figs. 24 and 25, is 1/8" thick and shaped as shown. This plate (_C_) is supported on two pillars ½" in diameter and 1¼" high. Fig. 25 is a side view of Fig. 24 seen in the direction of the arrow _p_. The cock _D_ is also of 1/8" spring brass shaped as shown, and attached by the screw _f_ and steady pins _s s_ to the top plate _C_. The bridge _F G_ carries the top pivots of escape wheel and pallet staff, and is shaped as shown at the full outline. This bridge is supported on two pillars ½" high and ½" in diameter, one of which is shown at _E_, Fig. 25, and both at the dotted circles _E E'_, Fig. 24. To lay out the lower plate we draw the line _a a_ so it passes through the center of _A_ at _m_. At 1.3" from one edge of _A_ we establish on the line _a_ the point _d_, which locates the center of the escape wheel. On the same line _a_ at 1.15" from _d_ we establish the point _b_, which represents the center of the pallet staff. At the distance of 1.16" from _b_ we establish the point _c_, which represents the center of the balance staff. To locate the pillars _H_, which support the top plate _C_, we set the dividers at 2.58", and from the center _m_ sweep the arc _n_. From the intersection of this arc with the line _a_ (at _r_) we lay off on said arc _n_ 2.1" and establish the points _g g'_, which locate the center of the pillars _H H_. With the dividers set so one leg rests at the center _m_ and the other leg at the point _d_, we sweep the arc _t_. With the dividers set at 1.33" we establish on the arc _t_, from the point _d_, the points _e e'_, which locate the position of the pillars _E E'_. The outside diameter of the balance _B_ is 3-5/8" with the rim 3/16" wide and 5/16" deep, with screws in the rim in imitation of the ordinary compensation balance. Speaking of a balance of this kind suggests to the writer the trouble he experienced in procuring material for a model of this kind--for the balance, a pattern had to be made, then a casting made, then a machinist turned the casting up, as it was too large for an American lathe. A hairspring had to be specially made, inasmuch as a mainspring was too short, the coils too open and, more particularly, did not look well. Pallet jewels had to be made, and lapidists have usually poor ideas of close measurements. Present-day conditions, however, will, no doubt, enable the workman to follow our instructions much more readily. MAKING THE BRIDGES. In case the reader makes the bridges _C_ and _F_, as shown in Fig. 27, he should locate small circles on them to indicate the position of the screws for securing these bridges to the pillars which support them, and also other small circles to indicate the position of the pivot holes _d b_ for the escape wheel and pallet staff. In practice it will be well to draw the line _a a_ through the center of the main plate _A_, as previously directed, and also establish the point _d_ as therein directed. The pivot hole _d'_ for the escape wheel, and also the holes at _e e_ and _b_, are now drilled in the bridge _F_. These holes should be about 1/16" in diameter. The same sized hole is also drilled in the main plate _A_ at _d_. We now place a nicely-fitting steel pin in the hole _d'_ in the bridge _F_ and let it extend into the hole _d_ in the main plate. We clamp the bridge _F_ to _A_ so the hole _b_ comes central on the line _a_, and using the holes _e e_ in _F_ as guides, drill or mark the corresponding holes _e' e'_ and _b_ in the main plate for the pillars _E E'_ and the pallet staff. [Illustration: Fig. 27] This plan will insure the escape wheel and pallet staff being perfectly upright. The same course pursued with the plate _C_ will insure the balance being upright. The pillars which support the bridges are shaped as shown at Fig. 28, which shows a side view of one of the pillars which support the top plate or bridge _C_. The ends are turned to ¼" in diameter and extend half through the plate, where they are held by screws, the same as in American movements. [Illustration: Fig. 28] The pillars (like _H_) can be riveted in the lower plate _A_, but we think most workmen will find it more satisfactory to employ screws, as shown at Fig. 29. The heads of such screws should be about 3/8" in diameter and nicely rounded, polished and blued. We would not advise jeweling the pivot holes, because there is but slight friction, except to the foot of the balance pivot, which should be jeweled with a plano-convex garnet. [Illustration: Fig. 29] IMITATION RUBIES FOR CAPPING THE TOP PIVOTS. The top pivots to the escape wheel should be capped with imitation rubies for appearance sake only, letting the cap settings be red gold, or brass red gilded. If real twelve-karat gold is employed the cost will not be much, as the settings are only about 3/8" across and can be turned very thin, so they will really contain but very little gold. The reason why we recommend imitation ruby cap jewels for the upper holes, is that such jewels are much more brilliant than any real stone we can get for a moderate cost. Besides, there is no wear on them. The pallet jewels are also best made of glass, as garnet or any red stone will look almost black in such large pieces. Red carnelian has a sort of brick-red color, which has a cheap appearance. There is a new phosphorus glass used by optical instrument makers which is intensely hard, and if colored ruby-red makes a beautiful pallet jewel, which will afford as much service as if real stones were used; they are no cheaper than carnelian pallets, but much richer looking. The prettiest cap for the balance is one of those foilback stones in imitation of a rose-cut diamond. [Illustration: Fig. 30] [Illustration: Fig. 31] In turning the staffs it is the best plan to use double centers, but a piece of Stubs steel wire that will go into a No. 40 wire chuck, will answer; in case such wire is used, a brass collet must be provided. This will be understood by inspecting Fig. 30, where _L_ represents the Stubs wire and _B N_ the brass collet, with the balance seat shown at _k_. The escape-wheel arbor and pallet staff can be made in the same way. The lower end of the escape wheel pivot is made about ¼" long, so that a short piece of brass wire can be screwed upon it, as shown in Fig. 31, where _h_ represents the pivot, _A_ the lower plate, and the dotted line at _p_ the brass piece screwed on the end of the pivot. This piece _p_ is simply a short bit of brass wire with a female screw tapped into the end, which screws on to the pivot. An arm is attached to _p_, as shown at _T_. The idea is, the pieces _T p_ act like a lathe dog to convey the power from one of the pivots of an old eight-day spring clock movement, which is secured by screws to the lower side of the main plate _A_. The plan is illustrated at Fig. 32, where _l_ represents pivot of the eight-day clock employed to run the model. Counting the escape-wheel pivot of the clock as one, we take the third pivot from this in the clock train, placing the movement so this point comes opposite the escape-wheel pivot of the model, and screw the clock movement fast to the lower side of the plate _A_. The parts _T_, Fig. 33, are alike on both pivots. [Illustration: Fig. 32] [Illustration: Fig. 33] PROFITABLE FOR EXPLAINING TO A CUSTOMER. To fully appreciate such a large escapement model as we have been describing, a person must see it with its great balance, nearly 4" across, flashing and sparkling in the show window in the evening, and the brilliant imitation ruby pallets dipping in and out of the escape wheel. A model of this kind is far more attractive than if the entire train were shown, the mystery of "What makes it go?" being one of the attractions. Such a model is, further, of great value in explaining to a customer what you mean when you say the escapement of his watch is out of order. Any practical workman can easily make an even $100 extra in a year by making use of such a model. For explaining to customers an extra balance cock can be used to show how the jewels (hole and cap) are arranged. Where the parts are as large as they are in the model, the customer can see and understand for himself what is necessary to be done. It is not to be understood that our advice to purchase the jewels for an extra balance cock conflicts with our recommending the reader not to jewel the holes of his model. The extra cock is to be shown, not for use, and is employed solely for explaining to a customer what is required when a pivot or jewel is found to be broken. HOW LARGE SCREWS ARE MADE. The screws which hold the plates in place should have heads about 3/8" in diameter, to be in proportion to the scale on which the balance and escape wheel are gotten up. There is much in the manner in which the screw heads are finished as regards the elegance of such a model. A perfectly flat head, no matter how highly polished, does not look well, neither does a flattened conehead, like Fig. 35. The best head for this purpose is a cupped head with chamfered edges, as shown at Fig. 34 in vertical section. The center _b_ is ground and polished into a perfect concave by means of a metal ball. The face, between the lines _a a_, is polished dead flat, and the chamfered edge _a c_ finished a trifle convex. The flat surface at _a_ is bright, but the concave _b_ and chamfer at _c_ are beautifully blued. For a gilt-edged, double extra head, the chamfer at _c_ can be "snailed," that is, ground with a suitable lap before bluing, like the stem-wind wheels on some watches. [Illustration: Fig. 34] [Illustration: Fig. 35] FANCY SCREWHEADS. There are two easy methods of removing the blue from the flat part of the screwhead at _a_. (1) Make a special holder for the screw in the end of a cement brass, as shown at _E_, Fig. 36, and while it is slowly revolving in the lathe touch the flat surface _a_ with a sharpened pegwood wet with muriatic acid, which dissolves the blue coating of oxide of iron. (2) The surface of the screwhead is coated with a very thin coating of shellac dissolved in alcohol and thoroughly dried, or a thin coating of collodion, which is also dried. The screw is placed in the ordinary polishing triangle and the flat face at _a_ polished on a tin lap with diamantine and oil. In polishing such surfaces the thinnest possible coating of diamantine and oil is smeared on the lap--in fact, only enough to dim the surface of the tin. It is, of course, understood that it is necessary to move only next to nothing of the material to restore the polish of the steel. The polishing of the other steel parts is done precisely like any other steel work. [Illustration: Fig. 36] The regulator is of the Howard pattern. The hairspring stud is set in the cock like the Elgin three-quarter-plate movement. The richest finish for such a model is frosted plates and bridges. The frosting should not be a fine mat, like a watch movement, but coarse-grained--in fact, the grain of the frosting should be proportionate to the size of the movement. The edges of the bridges and balance cock can be left smooth. The best process for frosting is by acid. Details for doing the work will now be given. [Illustration: Fig. 37] [Illustration: Fig. 38] To do this frosting by acid nicely, make a sieve by tacking and gluing four pieces of thin wood together, to make a rectangular box without a bottom. Four pieces of cigar-box wood, 8" long by 1½" wide, answer first rate. We show at _A A A A_, Fig. 37, such a box as if seen from above; with a side view, as if seen in the direction of the arrow _a_, at Fig. 38. A piece of India muslin is glued across the bottom, as shown at the dotted lines _b b_. By turning up the edges on the outside of the box, the muslin bottom can be drawn as tight as a drum head. HOW TO DO ACID FROSTING. To do acid frosting, we procure two ounces of gum mastic and place in the square sieve, shown at Fig. 37. Usually more than half the weight of gum mastic is in fine dust, and if not, that is, if the gum is in the shape of small round pellets called "mastic tears," crush these into dust and place the dust in _A_. Let us next suppose we wish to frost the cock on the balance, shown at Fig. 39. Before we commence to frost, the cock should be perfectly finished, with all the holes made, the regulator cap in position, the screw hole made for the Howard regulator and the index arc engraved with the letters S and F. [Illustration: Fig. 39] It is not necessary the brass should be polished, but every file mark and scratch should be stoned out with a Scotch stone; in fact, be in the condition known as "in the gray." It is not necessary to frost any portion of the cock _C_, except the upper surface. To protect the portion of the cock not to be frosted, like the edges and the back, we "stop out" by painting over with shellac dissolved in alcohol, to which a little lampblack is added. It is not necessary the coating of shellac should be very thick, but it is important it should be well dried. HOW TO PREPARE THE SURFACE. For illustration, let us suppose the back and edges of the cock at Fig. 39 are coated with shellac and it is laid flat on a piece of paper about a foot square to catch the excess of mastic. Holes should be made in this paper and also in the board on which the paper rests to receive the steady pins of the cock. We hold the sieve containing the mastic over the cock and, gently tapping the box _A_ with a piece of wood like a medium-sized file handle, shake down a little snowstorm of mastic dust over the face of the cock _C_. Exactly how much mastic dust is required to produce a nice frosting is only to be determined by practice. The way to obtain the knack is to frost a few scraps to "get your hand in." Nitric acid of full strength is used, dipping the piece into a shallow dish for a few seconds. A good-sized soup plate would answer very nicely for frosting the bottom plate, which, it will be remembered, is 6" in diameter. HOW TO ETCH THE SURFACE. After the mastic is sifted on, the cock should be heated up to about 250° F., to cause the particles of mastic to adhere to the surface. The philosophy of the process is, the nitric acid eats or dissolves the brass, leaving a little brass island the size of the particle of mastic which was attached to the surface. After heating to attach the particles of mastic, the dipping in nitric acid is done as just described. Common commercial nitric acid is used, it not being necessary to employ chemically pure acid. For that matter, for such purposes the commercial acid is the best. After the acid has acted for fifteen or twenty seconds the brass is rinsed in pure water to remove the acid, and dried by patting with an old soft towel, and further dried by waving through the air. A little turpentine on a rag will remove the mastic, but turpentine will not touch the shellac coating. The surface of the brass will be found irregularly acted upon, producing a sort of mottled look. To obtain a nice frosting the process of applying the mastic and etching must be repeated three or four times, when a beautiful coarse-grain mat or frosting will be produced. The shellac protection will not need much patching up during the three or four bitings of acid, as the turpentine used to wash off the mastic does not much affect the shellac coating. All the screw holes like _s s_ and _d_, also the steady pins on the back, are protected by varnishing with shellac. The edges of the cocks and bridges should be polished by rubbing lengthwise with willow charcoal or a bit of chamois skin saturated with oil and a little hard rouge scattered upon it. The frosting needs thorough scratch-brushing. [Illustration: Fig. 40] At Fig. 40 we show the balance cock of our model with modified form of Howard regulator. The regulator bar _A_ and spring _B_ should be ground smooth on one side and deeply outlined to perfect form. The regulator cap _C_ is cut out to the correct size. These parts are of decarbonized cast steel, annealed until almost as soft as sheet brass. It is not so much work to finish these parts as one might imagine. Let us take the regulator bar for an example and carry it through the process of making. The strip of soft sheet steel on which the regulator bar is outlined is represented by the dotted outline _b_, Fig. 41. [Illustration: Fig. 41] To cut out sheet steel rapidly we take a piece of smooth clock mainspring about ¾" and 10" long and double it together, softening the bending point with the lamp until the piece of mainspring assumes the form shown at Fig. 42, where _c_ represents the piece of spring and _H H_ the bench-vise jaws. The piece of soft steel is placed between the limbs of _c c'_ of the old mainspring up to the line _a_, Fig. 41, and clamped in the vise jaws. The superfluous steel is cut away with a sharp and rather thin cold chisel. [Illustration: Fig. 42] The chisel is presented as shown at _G_, Fig. 43 (which is an end view of the vise jaws _H H_ and regulator bar), and held to cut obliquely and with a sort of shearing action, as illustrated in Fig. 42, where _A''_ represents the soft steel and _G_ the cold chisel. We might add that Fig. 42 is a view of Fig. 43 seen in the direction of the arrow _f_. It is well to cut in from the edge _b_ on the line _d_, Fig. 41, with a saw, in order to readily break out the surplus steel and not bend the regulator bar. By setting the pieces of steel obliquely in the vise, or so the line _e_ comes even with the vise jaws, we can cut to more nearly conform to the circular loop _A''_ of the regulator _A_. [Illustration: Fig. 43] The smooth steel surface of the bent mainspring _c_ prevents the vise jaws from marking the soft steel of the regulator bar. A person who has not tried this method of cutting out soft steel would not believe with what facility pieces can be shaped. Any workman who has a universal face plate to his lathe can turn out the center of the regulator bar to receive the disk _C_, and also turn out the center of the regulator spring _B_. What we have said about the regulator bar applies also to the regulator spring _B_. This spring is attached to the cock _D_ by means of two small screws at _n_. The micrometer screw _F_ is tapped through _B''_ as in the ordinary Howard regulator, and the screw should be about No. 6 of a Swiss screw-plate. The wire from which such screw is made should be 1/10" in diameter. The steel cap _C_ is fitted like the finer forms of Swiss watches. The hairspring stud _E_ is of steel, shaped as shown, and comes outlined with the other parts. TO TEMPER AND POLISH STEEL. The regulator bar should be hardened by being placed in a folded piece of sheet iron and heated red hot, and thrown into cold water. The regulator bar _A A'_ is about 3" long; and for holding it for hardening, cut a piece of thin sheet iron 2½" by 3¼" and fold it through the middle lengthwise, as indicated by the dotted line _g_, Fig. 44. The sheet iron when folded will appear as shown at Fig. 45. A piece of flat sheet metal of the same thickness as the regulator bar should be placed between the iron leaves _I I_, and the leaves beaten down with a hammer, that the iron may serve as a support for the regulator during heating and hardening. A paste made of castile soap and water applied to the regulator bar in the iron envelope will protect it from oxidizing much during the heating. The portions of the regulator bar marked _h_ are intended to be rounded, while the parts marked _m_ are intended to be dead flat. The rounding is carefully done, first with a file and finished with emery paper. The outer edge of the loop _A''_ is a little rounded, also the inner edge next the cap _C_. This will be understood by inspecting Fig. 46, where we show a magnified vertical section of the regulator on line _l_, Fig. 40. The curvature should embrace that portion of _A''_ between the radial lines _o o'_, and should, on the model, not measure more than 1/40". It will be seen that the curved surface of the regulator is sunk so it meets only the vertical edge of the loop _A''_. For the average workman, polishing the flat parts _m_ is the most difficult to do, and for this reason we will give entire details. It is to be expected that the regulator bar will spring a little in hardening, but if only a little we need pay no attention to it. [Illustration: Fig. 44] [Illustration: Fig. 45] [Illustration: Fig. 46] HOW FLAT STEEL POLISHING IS DONE. Polishing a regulator bar for a large model, such as we are building, is only a heavy job of flat steel work, a little larger but no more difficult than to polish a regulator for a sixteen-size watch. We would ask permission here to say that really nice flat steel work is something which only a comparatively few workmen can do, and, still, the process is quite simple and the accessories few and inexpensive. First, ground-glass slab 6" by 6" by ¼"; second, flat zinc piece 3¼" by 3¼" by ¼"; third, a piece of thick sheet brass 3" by 2" by 1/8"; and a bottle of Vienna lime. The glass slab is only a piece of plate glass cut to the size given above. The zinc slab is pure zinc planed dead flat, and the glass ground to a dead surface with another piece of plate glass and some medium fine emery and water, the whole surface being gone over with emery and water until completely depolished. The regulator bar, after careful filing and dressing up on the edges with an oilstone slip or a narrow emery buff, is finished as previously described. We would add to the details already given a few words on polishing the edges. [Illustration: Fig. 47] It is not necessary that the edges of steelwork, like the regulator bar _B_, Fig. 47, should be polished to a flat surface; indeed, they look better to be nicely rounded. Perhaps we can convey the idea better by referring to certain parts: say, spring to the regulator, shown at _D_, Fig. 40, and also the hairspring stud _E_. The edges of these parts look best beveled in a rounded manner. [Illustration: Fig. 48] [Illustration: Fig. 49] It is a little difficult to convey in words what is meant by "rounded" manner. To aid in understanding our meaning, we refer to Figs. 48 and 49, which are transverse sections of _D_, Fig. 50, on the line _f_. The edges of _D_, in Fig. 48, are simply rounded. There are no rules for such rounding--only good judgment and an eye for what looks well. The edges of _D_ as shown in Fig. 49 are more on the beveled order. In smoothing and polishing such edges, an ordinary jeweler's steel burnish can be used. [Illustration: Fig. 50] SMOOTHING AND POLISHING. The idea in smoothing and polishing such edges is to get a fair gloss without much attention to perfect form, inasmuch as it is the flat surface _d_ on top which produces the impression of fine finish. If this is flat and brilliant, the rounded edges, like _g c_ can really have quite an inferior polish and still look well. For producing the flat polish on the upper surface of the regulator bar _B_ and spring _D_, the flat surface _d_, Figs. 48, 49, 51 and 52, we must attach the regulator bar to a plate of heavy brass, as shown at Fig. 47, where _A_ represents the brass plate, and _B_ the regulator bar, arranged for grinding and polishing flat. [Illustration: Fig. 51] [Illustration: Fig. 52] For attaching the regulator bar _B_ to the brass plate _A_, a good plan is to cement it fast with lathe wax; but a better plan is to make the plate _A_ of heavy sheet iron, something about 1/8" thick, and secure the two together with three or four little catches of soft solder. It is to be understood the edges of the regulator bar or the regulator spring are polished, and all that remains to be done is to grind and polish the flat face. Two pieces _a a_ of the same thickness as the regulator bar are placed as shown and attached to _A_ to prevent rocking. After _B_ is securely attached to _A_, the regulator should be coated with shellac dissolved in alcohol and well dried. The object of this shellac coating is to keep the angles formed at the meeting of the face and side clean in the process of grinding with oilstone dust and oil. The face of the regulator is now placed on the ground glass after smearing it with oil and oilstone dust. It requires but a very slight coating to do the work. The grinding is continued until the required surface is dead flat, after which the work is washed with soap and water and the shellac dissolved away with alcohol. The final polish is obtained on the zinc lap with Vienna lime and alcohol. Where lathe cement is used for securing the regulator to the plate _A_, the alcohol used with the Vienna lime dissolves the cement and smears the steel. Diamantine and oil are the best materials for polishing when the regulator bar is cemented to the plate _A_. KNOWLEDGE THAT IS MOST ESSENTIAL. _The knowledge most important for a practical working watchmaker to possess is how to get the watches he has to repair in a shape to give satisfaction to his customers._ No one will dispute the truth of the above italicised statement. It is only when we seek to have limits set, and define what such knowledge should consist of, that disagreement occurs. One workman who has read Grossmann or Saunier, or both, would insist on all watches being made to a certain standard, and, according to their ideas, all such lever watches as we are now dealing with should have club-tooth escapements with equidistant lockings, ten degrees lever and pallet action, with one and one-half degrees lock and one and one-half degrees drop. Another workman would insist on circular pallets, his judgment being based chiefly on what he had read as stated by some author. Now the facts of the situation are that lever escapements vary as made by different manufacturers, one concern using circular pallets and another using pallets with equidistant lockings. WHAT A WORKMAN SHOULD KNOW TO REPAIR A WATCH. One escapement maker will divide the impulse equally between the tooth and pallet; another will give an excess to the tooth. Now while these matters demand our attention in the highest degree in a theoretical sense, still, for such "know hows" as count in a workshop, they are of but trivial importance in practice. We propose to deal in detail with the theoretical consideration of "thick" and "thin" pallets, and dwell exhaustively on circular pallets and those with equidistant locking faces; but before we do so we wish to impress on our readers the importance of being able to free themselves of the idea that all lever escapements should conform to the rigid rules of any dictum. EDUCATE THE EYE TO JUDGE OF ANGULAR AS WELL AS LINEAR EXTENT. For illustration: It would be easy to design a lever escapement that would have locking faces which were based on the idea of employing neither system, but a compromise between the two, and still give a good, sound action. All workmen should learn to estimate accurately the extent of angular motion, so as to be able to judge correctly of escapement actions. It is not only necessary to know that a club-tooth escapement should have one and one-half degrees drop, but the eye should be educated, so to speak, as to be able to judge of angular as well as linear extent. [Illustration: Fig. 53] Most mechanics will estimate the size of any object measured in inches or parts of inches very closely; but as regards angular extent, except in a few instances, we will find mechanics but indifferent judges. To illustrate, let us refer to Fig. 53. Here we have the base line _A A'_ and the perpendicular line _a B_. Now almost any person would be able to see if the angle _A a B_ was equal to _B a A'_; but not five in one hundred practical mechanics would be able to estimate with even tolerable accuracy the measure the angles made to the base by the lines _b c d_; and still watchmakers are required in the daily practice of their craft to work to angular motions and movements almost as important as to results as diameters. What is the use of our knowing that in theory an escape-wheel tooth should have one and one-half degrees drop, when in reality it has three degrees? It is only by educating the eye from carefully-made drawings; or, what is better, constructing a model on a large scale, that we can learn to judge of proper proportion and relation of parts, especially as we have no convenient tool for measuring the angular motion of the fork or escape wheel. Nor is it important that we should have, if the workman is thoroughly "booked up" in the principles involved. As we explained early in this treatise, there is no imperative necessity compelling us to have the pallets and fork move through ten degrees any more than nine and one-half degrees, except that experience has proven that ten degrees is about the right thing for good results. In this day, when such a large percentage of lever escapements have exposed pallets, we can very readily manipulate the pallets to match the fork and roller action. For that matter, in many instances, with a faulty lever escapement, the best way to go about putting it to rights is to first set the fork and roller so they act correctly, and then bring the pallets to conform to the angular motion of the fork so adjusted. FORK AND ROLLER ACTION. Although we could say a good deal more about pallets and pallet action, still we think it advisable to drop for the present this particular part of the lever escapement and take up fork and roller action, because, as we have stated, frequently the fork and roller are principally at fault. In considering the action and relation of the parts of the fork and roller, we will first define what is considered necessary to constitute a good, sound construction where the fork vibrates through ten degrees of angular motion and is supposed to be engaged with the roller by means of the jewel pin for thirty degrees of angular motion of the balance. There is no special reason why thirty degrees of roller action should be employed, except that experience in practical construction has come to admit this as about the right arc for watches of ordinary good, sound construction. Manufacturers have made departures from this standard, but in almost every instance have finally come back to pretty near these proportions. In deciding on the length of fork and size of roller, we first decide on the distance apart at which to place the center of the balance and the center of the pallet staff. These two points established, we have the length of the fork and diameter of the roller defined at once. HOW TO FIND THE ROLLER DIAMETER FROM THE LENGTH OF THE FORK. To illustrate, let us imagine the small circles _A B_, Fig. 54, to represent the center of a pallet staff and balance staff in the order named. We divide this space into four equal parts, as shown, and the third space will represent the point at which the pitch circles of the fork and roller will intersect, as shown by the arc _a_ and circle _b_. Now if the length of the radii of these circles stand to each other as three to one, and the fork vibrates through an arc of ten degrees, the jewel pin engaging such fork must remain in contact with said fork for thirty degrees of angular motion of the balance. [Illustration: Fig. 54] Or, in other words, the ratio of angular motion of two _mobiles_ acting on each must be in the same ratio as the length of their radii at the point of contact. If we desire to give the jewel pin, or, in ordinary horological phraseology, have a greater arc of roller action, we would extend the length of fork (say) to the point _c_, which would be one-fifth of the space between _A_ and _B_, and the ratio of fork to roller action would be four to one, and ten degrees of fork action would give forty degrees of angular motion to the roller--and such escapements have been constructed. WHY THIRTY DEGREES OF ROLLER ACTION IS ABOUT RIGHT. Now we have two sound reasons why we should not extend the arc of vibration of the balance: (_a_) If there is an advantage to be derived from a detached escapement, it would surely be policy to have the arc of contact, that is, for the jewel pin to engage the fork, as short an arc as is compatible with a sound action. (_b_) It will be evident to any thinking mechanic that the acting force of a fork which would carry the jewel pin against the force exerted by the balance spring through an arc of fifteen degrees, or half of an arc of thirty degrees, would fail to do so through an arc of twenty degrees, which is the condition imposed when we adopt forty degrees of roller action. For the present we will accept thirty degrees of roller action as the standard. Before we proceed to delineate our fork and roller we will devote a brief consideration to the size and shape of a jewel pin to perform well. In this matter there has been a broad field gone over, both theoretically and in practical construction. Wide jewel pins, round jewel pins, oval jewel pins have been employed, but practical construction has now pretty well settled on a round jewel pin with about two-fifths cut away. And as regards size, if we adopt the linear extent of four degrees of fork or twelve degrees of roller action, we will find it about right. HOW TO SET A FORK AND ROLLER ACTION RIGHT. As previously stated, frequently the true place to begin to set a lever escapement right is with the roller and fork. But to do this properly we should know when such fork and roller action is right and safe in all respects. We will see on analysis of the actions involved that there are three important actions in the fork and roller functions: (_a_) The fork imparting perfect impulse through the jewel pin to the balance. (_b_) Proper unlocking action. (_c_) Safety action. The last function is in most instances sadly neglected and, we regret to add, by a large majority of even practical workmen it is very imperfectly understood. In most American watches we have ample opportunity afforded to inspect the pallet action, but the fork and roller action is placed so that rigid inspection is next to impossible. The Vacheron concern of Swiss manufacturers were acute enough to see the importance of such inspection, and proceeded to cut a circular opening in the lower plate, which permitted, on the removal of the dial, a careful scrutiny of the action of the roller and fork. While writing on this topic we would suggest the importance not only of knowing how to draw a correct fork and roller action, but letting the workman who desires to be _au fait_ in escapements delineate and study the action of a faulty fork and roller action--say one in which the fork, although of the proper form, is too short, or what at first glance would appear to amount to the same thing, a roller too small. Drawings help wonderfully in reasoning out not only correct actions, but also faulty ones, and our readers are earnestly advised to make such faulty drawings in several stages of action. By this course they will educate the eye to discriminate not only as to correct actions, but also to detect those which are imperfect, and we believe most watchmakers will admit that in many instances it takes much longer to locate a fault than to remedy it after it has been found. [Illustration: Fig. 55] Let us now proceed to delineate a fork and roller. It is not imperative that we should draw the parts to any scale, but it is a rule among English makers to let the distance between the center of the pallet staff and the center of the balance staff equal in length the chord of ninety-six degrees of the pitch circle of the escape wheel, which, in case we employ a pitch circle of 5" radius, would make the distance between _A_ and _B_, Fig. 55, approximately 7½", which is a very fair scale for study drawings. HOW TO DELINEATE A FORK AND ROLLER. To arrive at the proper proportions of the several parts, we divide the space _A B_ into four equal parts, as previously directed, and draw the circle _a_ and short arc _b_. With our dividers set at 5", from _B_ as a center we sweep the short arc _c_. From our arc of sixty degrees, with a 5" radius, we take five degrees, and from the intersection of the right line _A B_ with the arc _c_ we lay off on each side five degrees and establish the points _d e_; and from _B_ as a center, through these points draw the lines _B d'_ and _B e'_. Now the arc embraced between these lines represents the angular extent of our fork action. From _A_ as a center and with our dividers set at 5", we sweep the arc _f_. From the scale of degrees we just used we lay off fifteen degrees on each side of the line _A B_ on the arc _f_, and establish the points _g h_. From _A_ as a center, through the points just established we draw the radial lines _A g'_ and _A h'_. The angular extent between these lines defines the limit of our roller action. Now if we lay off on the arc _f_ six degrees each side of its intersection with the line _A B_, we define the extent of the jewel pin; that is, on the arc _f_ we establish the points _l m_ at six degrees from the line _A B_, and through the points _l m_ draw, from _A_ as a center, the radial lines _A l'_ and _A m'_. The extent of the space between the lines _A l'_ and _A m'_ on the circle _a_ defines the size of our jewel pin. TO DETERMINE THE SIZE OF A JEWEL PIN. [Illustration: Fig. 56] To make the situation better understood, we make an enlarged drawing of the lines defining the jewel pin at Fig. 56. At the intersection of the line _A B_ with the arc _a_ we locate the point _k_, and from it as a center we sweep the circle _i_ so it passes through the intersection of the lines _A l'_ and _A m'_ with the arc _a_. We divide the radius of the circle _i_ on the line _A B_ into five equal parts, as shown by the vertical lines _j_. Of these five spaces we assume three as the extent of the jewel pin, cutting away that portion to the right of the heavy vertical line at _k_. [Illustration: Fig. 57] We will now proceed to delineate a fork and roller as the parts are related on first contact of jewel pin with fork and initial with the commencing of the act of unlocking a pallet. The position and relations are also the same as at the close of the act of impulse. We commence the drawing at Fig. 57, as before, by drawing the line _A B_ and the arcs _a_ and _b_ to represent the pitch circles. We also sweep the arc _f_ to enable us to delineate the line _A g'_. Next in order we draw our jewel pin as shown at _D_. In drawing the jewel pin we proceed as at Fig. 56, except we let the line _A g'_, Fig. 57, assume the same relations to the jewel pin as _A B_ in Fig. 56; that is, we delineate the jewel pin as if extending on the arc _a_ six degrees on each side of the line _A g'_, Fig. 57. THE THEORY OF THE FORK ACTION. To aid us in reasoning, we establish the point _m_, as in Fig. 55, at _m_, Fig. 57, and proceed to delineate another and imaginary jewel pin at _D'_ (as we show in dotted outline). A brief reasoning will show that in allowing thirty degrees of contact of the fork with the jewel pin, the center of the jewel pin will pass through an arc of thirty degrees, as shown on the arcs _a_ and _f_. Now here is an excellent opportunity to impress on our minds the true value of angular motion, inasmuch as thirty degrees on the arc _f_ is of more than twice the linear extent as on the arc _a_. Before we commence to draw the horn of the fork engaging the jewel pin _D_, shown at full line in Fig. 57, we will come to perfectly understand what mechanical relations are required. As previously stated, we assume the jewel pin, as shown at _D_, Fig. 57, is in the act of encountering the inner face of the horn of the fork for the end or purpose of unlocking the engaged pallet. Now if the inner face of the horn of the fork was on a radial line, such radial line would be _p B_, Fig. 57. We repeat this line at _p_, Fig. 56, where the parts are drawn on a larger scale. To delineate a fork at the instant the last effort of impulse has been imparted to the jewel pin, and said jewel pin is in the act of separating from the inner face of the prong of the fork--we would also call attention to the fact that relations of parts are precisely the same as if the jewel pin had just returned from an excursion of vibration and was in the act of encountering the inner face of the prong of the fork in the act of unlocking the escapement. We mentioned this matter previously, but venture on the repetition to make everything clear and easily understood. We commence by drawing the line _A B_ and dividing it in four equal parts, as on previous occasions, and from _A_ and _B_ as centers draw the pitch circles _c d_. By methods previously described, we draw the lines _A a_ and _A a'_, also _B b_ and _B b'_ to represent the angular motion of the two mobiles, viz., fork and roller action. As already shown, the roller occupies twelve degrees of angular extent. To get at this conveniently, we lay off on the arc by which we located the lines _A a_ and _A a'_ six degrees above the line _A a_ and draw the line _A h_. Now the angular extent on the arc _c_ between the lines _A a_ and _A h_ represents the radius of the circle defining the jewel pin. From the intersection of the line _A a_ with the arc _c_ as a center, and with the radius just named, we sweep the small circle _D_, Fig. 58, which represents our jewel pin; we afterward cut away two-fifths and draw the full line _D_, as shown. We show at Fig. 59 a portion of Fig. 58, enlarged four times, to show certain portions of our delineations more distinctly. If we give the subject a moment's consideration we will see that the length of the prong _E_ of the lever fork is limited to such a length as will allow the jewel pin _D_ to pass it. HOW TO DELINEATE THE PRONGS OF A LEVER FORK. [Illustration: Fig. 58] [Illustration: Fig. 59] To delineate this length, from _B_ as a center we sweep the short arc _f_ so it passes through the outer angle _n_, Fig. 59, of the jewel pin. This arc, carried across the jewel pin _D_, limits the length of the opposite prong of the fork. The outer face of the prong of the fork can be drawn as a line tangent to a circle drawn from _A_ as a center through the angle _n_ of the jewel pin. Such a circle or arc is shown at _o_, Figs. 58 and 59. There has been a good deal said as to whether the outer edge of the prong of a fork should be straight or curved. To the writer's mind, a straight-faced prong, like from _s_ to _m_, is what is required for a fork with a single roller, while a fork with a curved prong will be best adapted for a double roller. This subject will be taken up again when we consider double-roller action. The extent or length of the outer face of the prong is also an open subject, but as there is but one factor of the problem of lever escapement construction depending on it, when we name this and see this requirement satisfied we have made an end of this question. The function performed by the outer face of the prong of a fork is to prevent the engaged pallet from unlocking while the guard pin is opposite to the passing hollow. The inner angle _s_ of the horn of the fork must be so shaped and located that the jewel pin will just clear it as it passes out of the fork, or when it passes into the fork in the act of unlocking the escapement. In escapements with solid bankings a trifle is allowed, that is, the fork is made enough shorter than the absolute theoretical length to allow for safety in this respect. THE PROPER LENGTH OF A LEVER. We will now see how long a lever must be to perform its functions perfectly. Now let us determine at what point on the inner face of the prong _E'_ the jewel pin parts from the fork, or engages on its return. To do this we draw a line from the center _r_ (Fig. 59) of the jewel pin, so as to meet the line _e_ at right angles, and the point _t_ so established on the line _e_ is where contact will take place between the jewel pin and fork. It will be seen this point (_t_) of contact is some distance back of the angle _u_ which terminates the inner face of the prong _E'_; consequently, it will be seen the prongs _E E'_ of the fork can with safety be shortened enough to afford a safe ingress or egress to the jewel pin to the slot in the fork. As regards the length of the outer face of the prong of the fork, a good rule is to make it one and a half times the diameter of the jewel pin. The depth of the slot need be no more than to free the jewel in its passage across the ten degrees of fork action. A convenient rule as to the depth of the slot in a fork is to draw the line _k_, which, it will be seen, coincides with the circle which defines the jewel pin. HOW TO DELINEATE THE SAFETY ACTION. [Illustration: Fig. 60] We will next consider a safety action of the single roller type. The active or necessary parts of such safety action consist of a roller or disk of metal, usually steel, shaped as shown in plan at _A_, Fig. 60. In the edge of this disk is cut in front of the jewel pin a circular recess shown at _a_ called the passing hollow. The remaining part of the safety action is the guard pin shown at _N_ Figs. 61 and 62, which is placed in the lever. Now it is to be understood that the sole function performed by the guard pin is to strike the edge of the roller _A_ at any time when the fork starts to unlock the engaged pallet, except when the jewel pin is in the slot of the fork. To avoid extreme care in fitting up the passing hollow, the horns of the fork are arranged to strike the jewel pin and prevent unlocking in case the passing hollow is made too wide. To delineate the safety action we first draw the fork and jewel pin as previously directed and as shown at Fig. 63. The position of the guard pin should be as close to the bottom of the slot of the fork as possible and be safe. As to the size of the guard pin, it is usual to make it about one-third or half the diameter of the jewel pin. The size and position of the guard pin decided on and the small circle _N_ drawn, to define the size and position of the roller we set our dividers so that a circle drawn from the center _A_ will just touch the edge of the small circle _N_, and thus define the outer boundary of our roller, or roller table, as it is frequently called. [Illustration: Fig. 61] [Illustration: Fig. 62] For deciding the angular extent of the passing hollow we have no fixed rule, but if we make it to occupy about half more angular extent on the circle _y_ than will coincide with the angular extent of the jewel pin, it will be perfectly safe and effectual. We previously stated that the jewel pin should occupy about twelve degrees of angular extent on the circle _c_, and if we make the passing hollow occupy eighteen degrees (which is one and a half the angular extent of the jewel pin) it will do nicely. But if we should extend the width of the passing hollow to twenty-four degrees it would do no harm, as the jewel pin would be well inside the horn of the fork before the guard pin could enter the passing hollow. [Illustration: Fig. 63] We show in Fig. 61 the fork as separated from the roller, but in Fig. 62, which is a side view, we show the fork and jewel pin as engaged. When drawing a fork and roller action it is safe to show the guard pin as if in actual contact with the roller. Then in actual construction, if the parts are made to measure and agree with the drawing in the gray, that is, before polishing, the process of polishing will reduce the convex edge of the roller enough to free it. It is evident if thought is given to the matter, that if the guard pin is entirely free and does not touch the roller in any position, a condition and relation of parts exist which is all we can desire. We are aware that it is usual to give a considerable latitude in this respect even by makers, and allow a good bit of side shake to the lever, but our judgment would condemn the practice, especially in high-grade watches. RESTRICT THE FRICTIONAL SURFACES. Grossmann, in his essay on the detached lever escapement, adopts one and a half degrees lock. Now, we think that one degree is ample; and we are sure that every workman experienced in the construction of the finer watches will agree with us in the assertion that we should in all instances seek to reduce the extent of all frictional surfaces, no matter how well jeweled. Acting under such advice, if we can reduce the surface friction on the lock from one and a half degrees to one degree or, better, to three-fourths of a degree, it is surely wise policy to do so. And as regards the extent of angular motion of the lever, if we reduce this to six degrees, exclusive of the lock, we would undoubtedly obtain better results in timing. We shall next consider the effects of opening the bankings too wide, and follow with various conditions which are sure to come in the experience of the practical watch repairer. It is to be supposed in this problem that the fork and roller action is all right. The reader may say to this, why not close the banking? In reply we would offer the supposition that some workman had bent the guard pin forward or set a pallet stone too far out. We have now instructed our readers how to draw and construct a lever escapement complete, of the correct proportions, and will next take up defective construction and consider faults existing to a lesser or greater degree in almost every watch. Faults may also be those arising from repairs by some workman not fully posted in the correct form and relation of the several parts which go to make up a lever escapement. It makes no difference to the artisan called upon to put a watch in perfect order as to whom he is to attribute the imperfection, maker or former repairer; all the workman having the job in hand has to do is to know positively that such a fault actually exists, and that it devolves upon him to correct it properly. BE FEARLESS IN REPAIRS, IF SURE YOU ARE RIGHT. Hence the importance of the workman being perfectly posted on such matters and, knowing that he is right, can go ahead and make the watch as it should be. The writer had an experience of this kind years ago in Chicago. A Jules Jurgensen watch had been in the hands of several good workmen in that city, but it would stop. It was then brought to him with a statement of facts given above. He knew there must be a fault somewhere and searched for it, and found it in the exit pallet--a certain tooth of the escape wheel under the right conditions would sometimes not escape. It might go through a great many thousand times and yet it might, and did sometimes, hold enough to stop the watch. Now probably most of my fellow-workmen in this instance would have been afraid to alter a "Jurgensen," or even hint to the owner that such a thing could exist as a fault in construction in a watch of this justly-celebrated maker. The writer removed the stone, ground a little from the base of the offending pallet stone, replaced it, and all trouble ended--no stops from that on. STUDY OF AN ESCAPEMENT ERROR. [Illustration: Fig. 64] Now let us suppose a case, and imagine a full-plate American movement in which the ingress or entrance pallet extends out too far, and in order to have it escape, the banking on that side is opened too wide. We show at Fig. 64 a drawing of the parts in their proper relations under the conditions named. It will be seen by careful inspection that the jewel pin _D_ will not enter the fork, which is absolutely necessary. This condition very frequently exists in watches where a new pallet stone has been put in by an inexperienced workman. Now this is one of the instances in which workmen complain of hearing a "scraping" sound when the watch is placed to the ear. The remedy, of course, lies in warming up the pallet arms and pushing the stone in a trifle, "But how much?" say some of our readers. There is no definite rule, but we will tell such querists how they can test the matter. Remove the hairspring, and after putting the train in place and securing the plates together, give the winding arbor a turn or two to put power on the train; close the bankings well in so the watch cannot escape on either pallet. Put the balance in place and screw down the cock. Carefully turn back the banking on one side so the jewel pin will just pass out of the slot in the fork. Repeat this process with the opposite banking; the jewel pin will now pass out on each side. Be sure the guard pin does not interfere with the fork action in any way. The fork is now in position to conform to the conditions required. HOW TO ADJUST THE PALLETS TO MATCH THE FORK. If the escapement is all right, the teeth will have one and a half degrees lock and escape correctly; but in the instance we are considering, the stone will not permit the teeth to pass, and must be pushed in until they will. It is not a very difficult matter after we have placed the parts together so we can see exactly how much the pallet protrudes beyond what is necessary, to judge how far to push it back when we have it out and heated. There is still an "if" in the problem we are considering, which lies in the fact that the fork we are experimenting with may be too short for the jewel pin to engage it for ten degrees of angular motion. This condition a man of large experience will be able to judge of very closely, but the better plan for the workman is to make for himself a test gage for the angular movement of the fork. Of course it will be understood that with a fork which engages the roller for eight degrees of fork action, such fork will not give good results with pallets ground for ten degrees of pallet action; still, in many instances, a compromise can be effected which will give results that will satisfy the owner of a watch of moderate cost, and from a financial point of view it stands the repairer in hand to do no more work than is absolutely necessary to keep him well pleased. We have just made mention of a device for testing the angular motion of the lever. Before we take up this matter, however, we will devote a little time and attention to the subject of jewel pins and how to set them. We have heretofore only considered jewel pins of one form, that is, a round jewel pin with two-fifths cut away. We assumed this form from the fact that experience has demonstrated that it is the most practicable and efficient form so far devised or applied. Subsequently we shall take up the subject of jewel pins of different shapes. HOW TO SET A JEWEL PIN AS IT SHOULD BE. Many workmen have a mortal terror of setting a jewel pin and seem to fancy that they must have a specially-devised instrument for accomplishing this end. Most American watches have the hole for the jewel pin "a world too wide" for it, and we have heard repeated complaints from this cause. Probably the original object of this accommodating sort of hole was to favor or obviate faults of pallet action. Let us suppose, for illustration, that we have a roller with the usual style of hole for a jewel pin which will take almost anything from the size of a No. 12 sewing needle up to a round French clock pallet. [Illustration: Fig. 65] We are restricted as regards the proper size of jewel pin by the width of the slot in the fork. Selecting a jewel which just fits the fork, we can set it as regards its relation to the staff so it will cause the pitch circle of the jewel pin to coincide with either of dotted circles _a_ or _a'_, Fig. 65. This will perhaps be better understood by referring to Fig. 66, which is a view of Fig. 65 seen in the direction of the arrow _c_. Here we see the roller jewel at _D_, and if we bring it forward as far as the hole in the roller will permit, it will occupy the position indicated at the dotted lines; and if we set it in (toward the staff) as far as the hole will allow, it will occupy the position indicated by the full outline. [Illustration: Fig. 66] Now such other condition might very easily exist, that bringing the jewel pin forward to the position indicated by the dotted lines at _D_, Fig. 66, would remedy the defect described and illustrated at Fig. 64 without any other change being necessary. We do not assert, understand, that a hole too large for the jewel pin is either necessary or desirable--what we wish to convey to the reader is the necessary knowledge so that he can profit by such a state if necessary. A hole which just fits the jewel pin so the merest film of cement will hold it in place is the way it should be; but we think it will be some time before such rollers are made, inasmuch as economy appears to be a chief consideration. ABOUT JEWEL-PIN SETTERS. To make a jewel-pin setter which will set a jewel pin straight is easy enough, but to devise any such instrument which will set a jewel so as to perfectly accord with the fork action is probably not practicable. What the workman needs is to know from examination when the jewel pin is in the proper position to perform its functions correctly, and he can only arrive at this knowledge by careful study and thought on the matter. If we make up our minds on examining a watch that a jewel pin is "set too wide," that is, so it carries the fork over too far and increases the lock to an undue degree, take out the balance, remove the hairspring, warm the roller with a small alcohol lamp, and then with the tweezers move the jewel pin in toward the staff. [Illustration: Fig. 67] [Illustration: Fig. 68] [Illustration: Fig. 69] [Illustration: Fig. 70] No attempt should be made to move a jewel pin unless the cement which holds the jewel is soft, so that when the parts cool off the jewel is as rigid as ever. A very little practice will enable any workman who has the necessary delicacy of touch requisite to ever become a good watchmaker, to manipulate a jewel pin to his entire satisfaction with no other setter than a pair of tweezers and his eye, with a proper knowledge of what he wants to accomplish. To properly heat a roller for truing up the jewel pin, leave it on the staff, and after removing the hairspring hold the balance by the rim in a pair of tweezers, "flashing it" back and forth through the flame of a rather small alcohol lamp until the rim of the balance is so hot it can just be held between the thumb and finger, and while at this temperature the jewel pin can be pressed forward or backward, as illustrated in Fig. 66, and then a touch or two will set the pin straight or parallel with the staff. Figs. 68 and 69 are self-explanatory. For cementing in a jewel pin a very convenient tool is shown at Figs. 67 and 70. It is made of a piece of copper wire about 1/16" in diameter, bent to the form shown at Fig. 67. The ends _b b_ of the copper wire are flattened a little and recessed on their inner faces, as shown in Fig. 70, to grasp the edges of the roller _A_. The heat of an alcohol lamp is applied to the loop of the wire at _g_ until the small bit of shellac placed in the hole _h_ melts. The necessary small pieces of shellac are made by warming a bit of the gum to near the melting point and then drawing the softened gum into a filament the size of horse hair. A bit of this broken off and placed in the hole _h_ supplies the cement necessary to fasten the jewel pin. Figs. 68 and 69 will, no doubt, assist in a clear understanding of the matter. HOW TO MAKE AN ANGLE-MEASURING DEVICE. We will now resume the consideration of the device for measuring the extent of the angular motion of the fork and pallets. Now, before we take this matter up in detail we wish to say, or rather repeat what we have said before, which is to the effect that ten degrees of fork and lever action is not imperative, as we can get just as sound an action and precisely as good results with nine and a half or even nine degrees as with ten, if other acting parts are in unison with such an arc of angular motion. The chief use of such an angle-measuring device is to aid in comparing the relative action of the several parts with a known standard. [Illustration: Fig. 71] For use with full-plate movements about the best plan is a spring clip or clasp to embrace the pallet staff below the pallets. We show at Fig. 71 such a device. To make it, take a rather large size of sewing needle--the kind known as a milliner's needle is about the best. The diameter of the needle should be about No. 2, so that at _b_ we can drill and put in a small screw. It is important that the whole affair should be very light. The length of the needle should be about 1-5/8", in order that from the notch _a_ to the end of the needle _A'_ should be 1½". The needle should be annealed and flattened a little, to give a pretty good grasp to the notch _a_ on the pallet staff. Good judgment is important in making this clamp, as it is nearly impossible to give exact measurements. About 1/40" in width when seen in the direction of the arrow _j_ will be found to be about the right width. The spring _B_ can be made of a bit of mainspring, annealed and filed down to agree in width with the part _A_. In connection with the device shown at Fig. 71 we need a movement-holder to hold the movement as nearly a constant height as possible above the bench. The idea is, when the clamp _A B_ is slipped on the pallet staff the index hand _A'_ will extend outward, as shown in Fig. 72, where the circle _C_ is supposed to represent the top plate of a watch, and _A'_ the index hand. HOW THE ANGULAR MOTION IS MEASURED. [Illustration: Fig. 72] Fig. 72 is supposed to be seen from above. It is evident that if we remove the balance from the movement shown at _C_, leaving power on the train, and with an oiling tool or hair broach move the lever back and forth, the index hand _A'_ will show in a magnified manner the angular motion of the lever. Now if we provide an index arc, as shown at _D_, we can measure the extent of such motion from bank to bank. [Illustration: Fig. 73] [Illustration: Fig. 74] To get up such an index arc we first make a stand as shown at _E F_, Fig. 73. The arc _D_ is made to 1½" radius, to agree with the index hand _A'_, and is divided into twelve degree spaces, six each side of a zero, as shown at Fig. 74, which is an enlarged view of the index _D_ in Fig. 72. The index arc is attached to a short bit of wire extending down into the support _E_, and made adjustable as to height by the set-screw _l_. Let us suppose the index arc is adjusted to the index hand _A'_, and we move the fork as suggested; you see the hand would show exactly the arc passed through from bank to bank, and by moving the stand _E F_ we can arrange so the zero mark on the scale stands in the center of such arc. This, of course, gives the angular motion from bank to bank. As an experiment, let us close the bankings so they arrest the fork at the instant the tooth drops from each pallet. If this arc is ten degrees, the pallet action is as it should be with the majority of modern watches. TESTING LOCK AND DROP WITH OUR NEW DEVICE. Let us try another experiment: We carefully move the fork away from the bank, and if after the index hand has passed through one and a half degrees the fork flies over, we know the lock is right. We repeat the experiment from the opposite bank, and in the same manner determine if the lock is right on the other pallets. You see we have now the means of measuring not only the angular motion of the lever, but the angular extent of the lock. At first glance one would say that if now we bring the roller and fork action to coincide and act in unison with the pallet action, we would be all right; and so we would, but frequently this bringing of the roller and fork to agree is not so easily accomplished. It is chiefly toward this end the Waltham fork is made adjustable, so it can be moved to or from the roller, and also that we can allow the pallet arms to be moved, as we will try and explain. As we set the bankings the pallets are all right; but to test matters, let us remove the hairspring and put the balance in place. Now, if the jewel pin passes in and out of the fork, it is to be supposed the fork and roller action is all right. To test the fork and roller action we close the banking a little on one side. If the fork and jewel pin are related to each other as they should be, the jewel pin will not pass out of the fork, nor will the engaged tooth drop from that pallet. This condition should obtain on both pallets, that is, if the jewel pin will not pass out of the fork on a given bank the tooth engaged on its pallet should not drop. We have now come to the most intricate and important problems which relate to the lever escapement. However, we promise our readers that if they will take the pains to follow closely our elucidations, to make these puzzles plain. But we warn them that they are no easy problems to solve, but require good, hard thinking. The readiest way to master this matter is by means of such a model escapement as we have described. With such a model, and the pallets made to clamp with small set-screws, and roller constructed so the jewel pin could be set to or from the staff, this matter can be reduced to object lessons. But study of the due relation of the parts in good drawings will also master the situation. A FEW EXPERIMENTS WITH OUR ANGLE-MEASURING DEVICE. In using the little instrument for determining angular motion that we have just described, care must be taken that the spring clamp which embraces the pallet staff does not slip. In order to thoroughly understand the methods of using this angle-measuring device, let us take a further lesson or two. We considered measuring the amount of lock on each pallet, and advised the removal of the balance, because if we left the balance in we could not readily tell exactly when the tooth passed on to the impulse plane; but if we touch the fork lightly with an oiling tool or a hair broach, moving it (the fork) carefully away from the bank and watching the arc indicated by the hand _A_, Fig. 72, we can determine with great exactness the angular extent of lock. The diagram at Fig. 75 illustrates how this experiment is conducted. We apply the hair broach to the end of the fork _M_, as shown at _L_, and gently move the fork in the direction of the arrow _i_, watching the hand _A_ and note the number of degrees, or parts of degrees, indicated by the hand as passed over before the tooth is unlocked and passes on to the impulse plane and the fork flies forward to the opposite bank. Now, the quick movement of the pallet and fork may make the hand mark more or less of an arc on the index than one of ten degrees, as the grasp may slip on the pallet staff; but the arc indicated by the slow movement in unlocking will be correct. [Illustration: Fig. 75] By taking a piece of sharpened pegwood and placing the point in the slot of the fork, we can test the fork to see if the drop takes place much before the lever rests against the opposite bank. As we have previously stated, the drop from the pallet should not take place until the lever _almost_ rests on the banking pin. What the reader should impress on his mind is that the lever should pass through about one and a half degrees arc to unlock, and the remainder (eight and a half degrees) of the ten degrees are to be devoted to impulse. But, understand, if the impulse angle is only seven and a half degrees, and the jewel pin acts in accordance with the rules previously given, do not alter the pallet until you know for certain you will gain by it. An observant workman will, after a little practice, be able to determine this matter. We will next take up the double roller and fork action, and also consider in many ways the effect of less angles of action than ten degrees. This matter now seems of more importance, from the fact that we are desirous to impress on our readers that _there is no valid reason for adopting ten degrees of fork and roller action with the table roller, except that about this number of degrees of action are required to secure a reliable safety action_. With the double roller, as low as six degrees fork and pallet action can be safely employed. In fork and pallet actions below six degrees of angular motion, side-shake in pivot holes becomes a dangerous factor, as will be explained further on. It is perfectly comprehending the action of the lever escapement and then being able to remedy defects, that constitute the master workman. HOW TO MEASURE THE ANGULAR MOTION OF AN ESCAPE WHEEL. [Illustration: Fig. 76] We can also make use of our angle-testing device for measuring our escape-wheel action, by letting the clasp embrace the arbor of the escape wheel, instead of the pallet staff. We set the index arc as in our former experiments, except we place the movable index _D_, Fig. 76, so that when the engaged tooth rests on the locking face of a pallet, the index hand stands at the extreme end of our arc of twelve degrees. We next, with our pointed pegwood, start to move the fork away from the bank, as before, we look sharp and see the index hand move backward a little, indicating the "draw" on the locking face. As soon as the pallet reaches the impulse face, the hand _A_ moves rapidly forward, and if the escapement is of the club-tooth order and closely matched, the hand _A_ will pass over ten and a half degrees of angular motion before the drop takes place. [Illustration: Fig. 77] We will warn our readers in advance, that if they make such a testing device they will be astonished at the inaccuracy which they will find in the escapements of so-called fine watches. The lock, in many instances, instead of being one and a half degrees, will oftener be found to be from two to four degrees, and the impulse derived from the escape wheel, as illustrated at Fig. 76, will often fall below eight degrees. Such watches will have a poor motion and tick loud enough to keep a policeman awake. Trials with actual watches, with such a device as we have just described, in conjunction with a careful study of the acting parts, especially if aided by a large model, such as we have described, will soon bring the student to a degree of skill unknown to the old-style workman, who, if a poor escapement bothered him, would bend back the banking pins or widen the slot in the fork. We hold that educating our repair workmen up to a high knowledge of what is required to constitute a high-grade escapement, will have a beneficial effect on manufacturers. When we wish to apply our device to the measurement of the escapement of three-quarter-plate watches, we will require another index hand, with the grasping end bent downward, as shown at Fig. 77. The idea with this form of index hand is, the bent-down jaws _B'_, Fig. 77, grasp the fork as close to the pallet staff as possible, making an allowance for the acting center by so placing the index arc that the hand _A_ will read correctly on the index _D_. Suppose, for instance, we place the jaws _B'_ inside the pallet staff, we then place the index arc so the hand reads to the arc indicated by the dotted arc _m_, Fig. 78, and if set outside of the pallet staff, read by the arc _o_. [Illustration: Fig. 78] HOW A BALANCE CONTROLS THE TIMEKEEPING OF A WATCH. We think a majority of the fine lever escapements made abroad in this day have what is termed double-roller safety action. The chief gains to be derived from this form of safety action are: (1) Reducing the arc of fork and roller action; (2) reducing the friction of the guard point to a minimum. While it is entirely practicable to use a table roller for holding the jewel pin with a double-roller action, still a departure from that form is desirable, both for looks and because as much of the aggregate weight of a balance should be kept as far from the axis of rotation as possible. We might as well consider here as elsewhere, the relation the balance bears to the train as a controlling power. Strictly speaking, _the balance and hairspring are the time measurers_, the train serving only two purposes: (_a_) To keep the balance in motion; (_b_) to classify and record the number of vibrations of the balance. Hence, it is of paramount importance that the vibrations of the balance should be as untrammeled as possible; this is why we urge reducing the arc of connection between the balance and fork to one as brief as is consistent with sound results. With a double-roller safety action we can easily reduce the fork action to eight degrees and the roller action to twenty-four degrees. Inasmuch as satisfactory results in adjustment depend very much on the perfection of construction, we shall now dwell to some extent on the necessity of the several parts being made on correct principles. For instance, by reducing the arc of engagement between the fork and roller, we lessen the duration of any disturbing influence of escapement action. To resume the explanation of why it is desirable to make the staff and all parts near the axis of the balance as light as possible, we would say it is the moving portion of the balance which controls the regularity of the intervals of vibration. To illustrate, suppose we have a balance only 3/8" in diameter, but of the same weight as one in an ordinary eighteen-size movement. We can readily see that such a balance would require but a very light hairspring to cause it to give the usual 18,000 vibrations to the hour. We can also understand, after a little thought, that such a balance would exert as much breaking force on its pivots as a balance of the same weight, but ¾" in diameter acting against a very much stronger hairspring. There is another factor in the balance problem which deserves our attention, which factor is atmospheric resistance. This increases rapidly in proportion to the velocity. HOW BAROMETRIC PRESSURE AFFECTS A WATCH. The most careful investigators in horological mechanics have decided that a balance much above 75/100" in diameter, making 18,000 vibrations per hour, is not desirable, because of the varying atmospheric disturbances as indicated by barometric pressure. A balance with all of its weight as near the periphery as is consistent with strength, is what is to be desired for best results. It is the moving matter composing the balance, pitted against the elastic force of the hairspring, which we have to depend upon for the regularity of the timekeeping of a watch, and if we can take two grains' weight of matter from our roller table and place them in the rim or screws of the balance, so as to act to better advantage against the hairspring, we have disposed of these two grains so as to increase the efficiency of the controlling power and not increase the stress on the pivots. [Illustration: Fig. 79] We have deduced from the facts set forth, two axioms: (_a_) That we should keep the weight of our balance as much in the periphery as possible, consistent with due strength; (_b_) avoid excessive size from the disturbing effect of the air. We show at _A_, Fig. 79, the shape of the piece which carries the jewel pin. As shown, it consists of three parts: (1) The socket _A_, which receives the jewel pin _a_; (2) the part _A''_ and hole _b_, which goes on the balance staff; (3) the counterpoise _A'''_, which makes up for the weight of the jewel socket _A_, neck _A'_ and jewel pin. This counterpoise also makes up for the passing hollow _C_ in the guard roller _B_, Fig. 80. As the piece _A_ is always in the same relation to the roller _B_, the poise of the balance must always remain the same, no matter how the roller action is placed on the staff. We once saw a double roller of nearly the shape shown at Fig. 79, which had a small gold screw placed at _d_, evidently for the purpose of poising the double rollers; but, to our thinking, it was a sort of hairsplitting hardly worth the extra trouble. Rollers for very fine watches should be poised on the staff before the balance is placed upon it. [Illustration: Fig. 80] We shall next give detailed instructions for drawing such a double roller as will be adapted for the large model previously described, which, as the reader will remember, was for ten degrees of roller action. We will also point out the necessary changes required to make it adapted for eight degrees of fork action. We would beg to urge again the advantages to be derived from constructing such a model, even for workmen who have had a long experience in escapements, our word for it they will discover a great many new wrinkles they never dreamed of previously. It is important that every practical watchmaker should thoroughly master the theory of the lever escapement and be able to comprehend and understand at sight the faults and errors in such escapements, which, in the every-day practice of his profession, come to his notice. In no place is such knowledge more required than in fork and roller action. We are led to say the above chiefly for the benefit of a class of workmen who think there is a certain set of rules which, if they could be obtained, would enable them to set to rights any and all escapements. It is well to understand that no such system exists and that, practically, we must make one error balance another; and it is the "know how" to make such faults and errors counteract each other that enables one workman to earn more for himself or his employer in two days than another workman, who can file and drill as well as he can, will earn in a week. PROPORTIONS OF THE DOUBLE-ROLLER ESCAPEMENT. The proportion in size between the two rollers in a double-roller escapement is an open question, or, at least, makers seldom agree on it. Grossmann shows, in his work on the lever escapement, two sizes: (1) Half the diameter of the acting roller; (2) two-thirds of the size of the acting roller. The chief fault urged against a smaller safety roller is, that it necessitates longer horns to the fork to carry out the safety action. Longer horns mean more metal in the lever, and it is the conceded policy of all recent makers to have the fork and pallets as light as possible. Another fault pertaining to long horns is, when the horn does have to act as safety action, a greater friction ensues. In all soundly-constructed lever escapements the safety action is only called into use in exceptional cases, and if the watch was lying still would theoretically never be required. Where fork and pallets are poised on their arbor, pocket motion (except torsional) should but very little affect the fork and pallet action of a watch, and torsional motion is something seldom brought to act on a watch to an extent to make it worthy of much consideration. In the double-roller action which we shall consider, we shall adopt three-fifths of the pitch diameter of the jewel-pin action as the proper size. Not but what the proportions given by Grossmann will do good service; but we adopt the proportions named because it enables us to use a light fork, and still the friction of the guard point on the roller is but little more than where a guard roller of half the diameter of the acting roller is employed. The fork action we shall consider at present is ten degrees, but subsequently we shall consider a double-roller action in which the fork and pallet action is reduced to eight degrees. We shall conceive the play between the guard point and the safety roller as one degree, which will leave half a degree of lock remaining in action on the engaged pallet. THEORETICAL ACTION OF DOUBLE ROLLER CONSIDERED. In the drawing at Fig. 81 we show a diagram of the action of the double-roller escapement. The small circle at _A_ represents the center of the pallet staff, and the one at _B_ the center of the balance staff. The radial lines _A d_ and _A d'_ represent the arc of angular motion of fork action. The circle _b b_ represents the pitch circle of the jewel pin, and the circle at _c c_ the periphery of the guard or safety roller. The points established on the circle _c c_ by intersection of the radial lines _A d_ and _A d'_ we will denominate the points _h_ and _h'_. It is at these points the end of the guard point of the fork will terminate. In construction, or in delineating for construction, we show the guard enough short of the points _h h'_ to allow the fork an angular motion of one degree, from _A_ as a center, before said point would come in contact with the safety roller. [Illustration: Fig. 81] We draw through the points _h h'_, from _B_ as a center, the radial lines _B g_ and _B g'_. We measure this angle by sweeping the short arc _i_ with any of the radii we have used for arc measurement in former delineations, and find it to be a trifle over sixty degrees. To give ourselves a practical object lesson, let us imagine that a real guard point rests on the circle _c_ at _h_. Suppose we make a notch in the guard roller represented by the circle _c_, to admit such imaginary guard point, and then commence to revolve the circle _c_ in the direction of the arrow _j_, letting the guard point rest constantly in such notch. When the notch _n_ in _c_ has been carried through thirty degrees of arc, counting from _B_ as a center, the guard point, as relates to _A_ as a center, would only have passed through an arc of five degrees. We show such a guard point and notch at _o n_. In fact, if a jewel pin was set to engage the fork on the pitch circle _b a_, the escapement would lock. To obviate such lock we widen the notch _n_ to the extent indicated by the dotted lines _n'_, allowing the guard point to fall back, so to speak, into the notch _n_, which really represents the passing hollow. It is not to be understood that the extended notch at _n_ is correctly drawn as regards position, because when the guard point was on the line _A f_ the point _o_ would be in the center of the extended notch, or passing hollow. We shall next give the details of drawing the double roller, but before doing so we deemed it important to explain the action of such guard points more fully than has been done heretofore. HOW TO DESIGN A DOUBLE-ROLLER ESCAPEMENT. We have already given very desirable forms for the parts of a double-roller escapement, consequently we shall now deal chiefly with acting principles as regards the rollers, but will give, at Fig. 82, a very well proportioned and practical form of fork. The pitch circle of the jewel pin is indicated by the dotted circle _a_, and the jewel pin of the usual cylindrical form, with two-fifths cut away. The safety roller is three-fifths of the diameter of the pitch diameter of the jewel-pin action, as indicated by the dotted circle _a_. The safety roller is shown in full outline at _B'_, and the passing hollow at _E_. It will be seen that the arc of intersection embraced between the radial lines _B c_ and _B d_ is about sixty-one and a half degrees for the roller, but the angular extent of the passing hollow is only a little over thirty-two degrees. The passing hollow _E_ is located and defined by drawing the radial line _B c_ from the center _B_ through the intersection of radial line _A i_ with the dotted arc _b_, which represents the pitch circle of the safety roller. We will name this intersection the point _l_. Now the end of the guard point _C_ terminates at the point _l_, and the passing hollow _E_ extends on _b_ sixteen degrees on each side of the radial line _B c_. [Illustration: Fig. 82] The roller action is supposed to continue through thirty degrees of angular motion of the balance staff, and is embraced on the circle _a_ between the radial line _B k_ and _B o_. To delineate the inner face of the horn _p_ of the fork _F_ we draw the short arc _g_, from _A_ as a center, and on said arc locate at two degrees from the center at _B_ the point _f_. We will designate the upper angle of the outer face of the jewel pin _D_ as the point _s_ and, from _A_ as a center, sweep through this point _s_ the short arc _n n_. Parallel with the line _A i_ and at the distance of half the diameter of the jewel pin _D_, we draw the short lines _t t'_, which define the inner faces of the fork. The intersection of the short line _t_ with the arc _n_ we will designate the point _r_. With our dividers set to embrace the space between the point _r_ and the point _f_, we sweep the arc which defines the inner face of the prong of the fork. The space we just made use of is practically the same as the radius of the circle _a_, and consequently of the same curvature. Practically, the length of the guard point _C'_ is made as long as will, with certainty, clear the safety roller _B_ in all positions. While we set the point _f_ at two degrees from the center _B_, still, in a well-constructed escapement, one and a half degrees should be sufficient, but the extra half degree will do no harm. If the roller _B'_ is accurately made and the guard point _C'_ properly fitted, the fork will not have half a degree of play. The reader will remember that in the escapement model we described we cut down the drop to one degree, being less by half a degree than advised by Grossmann and Saunier. We also advised only one degree of lock. In the perfected lever escapement, which we shall describe and give working drawings for the construction of, we shall describe a detached lever escapement with only eight degrees fork and pallet action, with only three-fourths of a degree drop and three-fourths of a degree lock, which we can assure our readers is easily within the limits of practical construction by modern machinery. HOW THE GUARD POINT IS MADE. [Illustration: Fig. 83] The guard point _C'_, as shown at Fig. 82, is of extremely simple construction. Back of the slot of the fork, which is three-fifths of the diameter of the jewel pin in depth, is made a square hole, as shown at _u_, and the back end of the guard point _C_ is fitted to this hole so that it is rigid in position. This manner of fastening the guard point is equally efficient as that of attaching it with a screw, and much lighter--a matter of the highest importance in escapement construction, as we have already urged. About the best material for such guard points is either aluminum or phosphor bronze, as such material is lighter than gold and very rigid and strong. At Fig. 83 we show a side view of the essential parts depicted in Fig. 82, as if seen in the direction of the arrow _v_, but we have added the piece which holds the jewel pin _D_. A careful study of the cut shown at Fig. 82 will soon give the horological student an excellent idea of the double-roller action. We will now take up and consider at length why Saunier draws his entrance pallet with fifteen degrees draw and his exit pallet with only twelve degrees draw. To make ourselves more conversant with Saunier's method of delineating the lever escapement, we reproduce the essential features of his drawing, Fig. 1, plate VIII, of his "Modern Horology," in which he makes the draw of the locking face of the entrance pallet fifteen degrees and his exit pallet twelve degrees. In the cut shown at Fig. 84 we use the same letters of reference as he employs. We do not quote his description or directions for delineation because he refers to so much matter which he has previously given in the book just referred to. Besides we cannot entirely endorse his methods of delineations for many reasons, one of which appears in the drawing at Fig. 84. [Illustration: Fig. 84] MORE ABOUT TANGENTIAL LOCKINGS. Most writers endorse the idea of tangential lockings, and Saunier speaks of the escapement as shown at Fig. 84 as having such tangential lockings, which is not the case. He defines the position of the pallet staff from the circle _t_, which represents the extreme length of the teeth; drawing the radial lines _A D_ and _A E_ to embrace an arc of sixty degrees, and establishing the center of his pallet staff _C_ at the intersection of the lines _D C_ and _E C_, which are drawn at right angles to the radial lines _A D_ and _A E_, and tangential to the circle _t_. Here is an error; the lines defining the center of the pallet staff should have been drawn tangent to the circle _s_, which represents the locking angle of the teeth. This would have placed the center of the pallet staff farther in, or closer to the wheel. Any person can see at a glance that the pallets as delineated are not tangential in a true sense. [Illustration: Fig. 85] We have previously considered engaging friction and also repeatedly have spoken of tangential lockings, but will repeat the idea of tangential lockings at Fig. 85. A tangential locking is neutral, or nearly so, as regards engaging friction. For illustration we refer to Fig. 85, where _A_ represents the center of an escape wheel. We draw the radial lines _A y_ and _A z_ so that they embrace sixty degrees of the arcs _s_ or _t_, which correspond to similar circles in Fig. 84, and represent the extreme extent of the teeth and likewise the locking angle of such teeth. In fact, with the club-tooth escapement all that part of a tooth which extends beyond the line _s_ should be considered the same as the addendum in gear wheels. Consequently, a tangential locking made to coincide with the center of the impulse plane, as recommended by Saunier, would require the pallet staff to be located at _C'_ instead of _C_, as he draws it. If the angle _k'_ of the tooth _k_ in Fig. 84 was extended outward from the center _A_ so it would engage or rest on the locking face of the entrance pallet as shown at Fig. 84, then the draw of the locking angle would not be quite fifteen degrees; but it is evident no lock can take place until the angle _a_ of the entrance pallet has passed inside the circle _s_. We would say here that we have added the letters _s_ and _t_ to the original drawings, as we have frequently to refer to these circles, and without letters had no means of designation. Before the locking angle _k'_ of the tooth can engage the pallet, as shown in Fig. 84, the pallet must turn on the center _C_ through an angular movement of at least four degrees. We show the situation in the diagram at Fig. 86, using the same letters of reference for similar parts as in Fig. 84. [Illustration: Fig. 86] As drawn in Fig. 84 the angle of draft _G a I_ is equal to fifteen degrees, but when brought in a position to act as shown at _G a' I'_, Fig. 86, the draw is less even than twelve degrees. The angle _C a I_ remains constant, as shown at _C a' I'_, but the relation to the radial _A G_ changes when the pallet moves through the angle _w C w'_, as it must when locked. A tangential locking in the true sense of the meaning of the phrase is a locking set so that a pallet with its face coinciding with a radial line like _A G_ would be neutral, and the thrust of the tooth would be tangent to the circle described by the locking angle of the tooth. Thus the center _C_, Fig. 86, is placed on the line _w'_ which is tangent to the circle _s_; said line _w'_ also being at right angles to the radial line _A G_. The facts are, the problems relating to the club-tooth lever escapement are very intricate and require very careful analysis, and without such care the horological student can very readily be misled. Faulty drawings, when studying such problems, lead to no end of errors, and practical men who make imperfect drawings lead to the popular phrase, "Oh, such a matter may be all right in theory, but will not work in practice." We should always bear in mind that _theory, if right, must lead practice_. CORRECT DRAWING REQUIRED. If we delineate our entrance pallet to have a draw of twelve degrees when in actual contact with the tooth, and then construct in exact conformity with such drawings, we will find our lever to "hug the banks" in every instance. It is inattention to such details which produces the errors of makers complained of by Saunier in section 696 of his "Modern Horology," and which he attempts to correct by drawing the locking face at fifteen degrees draw. We shall show that neither _C_ nor _C'_, Fig. 85, is the theoretically correct position for the pallet center for a tangential locking. We will now take up the consideration of a club-tooth lever escapement with circular pallets and tangential lockings; but previous to making the drawings we must decide several points, among which are the thickness of the pallet arms, which establishes the angular motion of the escape wheel utilized by such pallet arms, and also the angular motion imparted to the pallets by the impulse faces of the teeth. We will, for the present, accept the thickness of the arms as being equivalent to five degrees of angular extent of the pitch circle of the escape wheel. [Illustration: Fig. 87] [Illustration: Fig. 88] In making our drawings we commence, as on former occasions, by establishing the center of our escape wheel at _A_, Fig. 87, and sweeping the arc _a a_ to represent the pitch circle of such wheel. Through the center _A_ we draw the vertical line _A B_, which is supposed to also pass through the center of the pallet staff. The intersection of the line _A B_ with the arc _a_ we term the point _d_, and from this point we lay off on said arc _a_ thirty degrees each side of said intersection, and thus establish the points _c b_. From _A_, through the point _c_, we draw the line _A c c'_. On the arc _a a_ and two and a half degrees to the left of the point _c_ we establish the point _f_, which space represents half of the thickness of the entrance pallet. From _A_ we draw through the point _f_ the line _A f f'_. From _f_, and at right angles to said line _A f_, we draw the line _f e_ until it crosses the line _A B_. Now this line _f e_ is tangent to the arc _a_ from the point _f_, and consequently a locking placed at the point _f_ is a true tangential locking; and if the resting or locking face of a pallet was made to coincide with the line _A f'_, such locking face would be strictly "dead" or neutral. The intersection of the line _f e_ with the line _A B_ we call the point _C_, and locate at this point the center of our pallet staff. According to the method of delineating the lever escapement by Moritz Grossmann the tangent line for locating the center of the pallet staff is drawn from the point _c_, which would locate the center of the pallet staff at the point _h_ on the line _A B_. Grossmann, in delineating his locking face for the draw, shows such face at an angle of twelve degrees to the radial line _A f'_, when he should have drawn it twelve degrees to an imaginary line shown at _f i_, which is at right angles to the line _f h_. To the writer's mind this is not just as it should be, and may lead to misunderstanding and bad construction. We should always bear in mind the fact that the basis of a locking face is a neutral plane placed at right angles to the line of thrust, and the "draw" comes from a locking face placed at an angle to such neutral plane. A careful study of the diagram at Fig. 88 will give the reader correct ideas. If a tooth locks at the point _c_, the tangential thrust would be on the line _c h'_, and a neutral locking face would be on the line _A c_. NEUTRAL LOCKINGS. To aid in explanation, let us remove the pallet center to _D_; then the line of thrust would be _c D_ and a neutral locking face would coincide with the line _m m_, which is at right angles to the line _c D_. If we should now make a locking face with a "draw" and at an angle to the line _c D_, say, for illustration, to correspond to the line _c c'_ (leaving the pallet center at _D_), we would have a strong draw and also a cruel engaging friction. If, however, we removed the engaging tooth, which we have just conceived to be at _c_, to the point _k_ on the arc _a' a'_, Fig. 88, the pallet center _D_ would then represent a tangential locking, and a neutral pallet face would coincide with the radial line _A k'_; and a locking face with twelve degrees draw would coincide nearly with the line _l_. Let us next analyze what the effect would be if we changed the pallet center to _h'_, Fig. 88, leaving the engaging tooth still at _k_. In this instance the line _l l_ would then coincide with a neutral locking face, and to obtain the proper draw we should delineate the locking face to correspond to the line _k n_, which we assume to be twelve degrees from _k l_. It is not to be understood that we insist on precisely twelve degrees draw from a neutral plane for locking faces for lever pallets. What we do insist upon, however, is a "safe and sure draw" for a lever pallet which will hold a fork to the banks and will also return it to such banks if by accident the fork is moved away. We are well aware that it takes lots of patient, hard study to master the complications of the club-tooth lever escapement, but it is every watchmaker's duty to conquer the problem. The definition of "lock," in the detached lever escapement, is the stoppage or arrest of the escape wheel of a watch while the balance is left free or detached to perform the greater portion of its arc of vibration. "Draw" is a function of the locking parts to preserve the fork in the proper position to receive and act on the jewel pin of the balance. It should be borne in mind in connection with "lock" and "draw," that the line of thrust as projected from the locked tooth of the escape wheel should be as near tangential as practicable. This maxim applies particularly to the entrance pallet. We would beg to add that practically it will make but little odds whether we plant the center of our pallet staff at _C_ or _h_, Fig. 87, provided we modify the locking and impulse angles of our pallets to conform to such pallet center. But it will not do to arrange the parts for one center and then change to another. PRACTICAL HINTS FOR LEVER ESCAPEMENTS. Apparently there seems to be a belief with very many watchmakers that there is a set of shorthand rules for setting an escapement, especially in American watches, which, if once acquired, conquers all imperfections. Now we wish to disabuse the minds of our readers of any such notions. Although the lever escapement, as adopted by our American factories, is constructed on certain "lines," still these lines are subject to modifications, such as may be demanded for certain defects of construction. If we could duplicate every part of a watch movement perfectly, then we could have certain rules to go by, and fixed templets could be used for setting pallet stones and correcting other escapement faults. Let us now make an analysis of the action of a lever escapement. We show at Fig. 89 an ordinary eighteen-size full-plate lever with fork and pallets. The dotted lines _a b_ are supposed to represent an angular movement of ten degrees. Now, it is the function of the fork to carry the power of the train to the balance. How well the fork performs its office we will consider subsequently; for the present we are dealing with the power as conveyed to the fork by the pallets as shown at Fig. 89. [Illustration: Fig. 89] The angular motion between the lines _a c_ (which represents the lock) is not only absolutely lost--wasted--but during this movement the train has to retrograde; that is, the dynamic force stored in the momentum of the balance has to actually turn the train backward and against the force of the mainspring. True, it is only through a very short arc, but the necessary force to effect this has to be discounted from the power stored in the balance from a former impulse. For this reason we should make the angular motion of unlocking as brief as possible. Grossmann, in his essay, endorses one and a half degrees as the proper lock. In the description which we employed in describing the large model for illustrating the action of the detached lever escapement, we cut the lock to one degree, and in the description of the up-to-date lever escapement, which we shall hereafter give, we shall cut the lock down to three-quarters of a degree, a perfection easily to be attained by modern tools and appliances. We shall also cut the drop down to three-quarters of a degree. By these two economies we more than make up for the power lost in unlocking. With highly polished ruby or sapphire pallets ten degrees of draw is ample. But such draw must positively be ten degrees from a neutral locking face, not an escapement drawn on paper and called ten degrees, but when actually measured would only show eight and a half or nine degrees. THE PERFECTED LEVER ESCAPEMENT. With ten degrees angular motion of the lever and one and a half degrees lock, we should have eight and a half degrees impulse. The pith of the problem, as regards pallet action, for the practical workman can be embodied in the following question: What proportion of the power derived from the twelve degrees of angular motion of the escape wheel is really conveyed to the fork? The great leak of power as transmitted by the lever escapement to the balance is to be found in the pallet action, and we shall devote special attention to finding and stopping such leaks. WHEN POWER IS LOST IN THE LEVER ESCAPEMENT. If we use a ratchet-tooth escape wheel we must allow at least one and a half degrees drop to free the back of the tooth; but with a club-tooth escape wheel made as can be constructed by proper skill and care, the drop can be cut down to three-quarters of a degree, or one-half of the loss with the ratchet tooth. We do not wish our readers to imagine that such a condition exists in most of the so-called fine watches, because if we take the trouble to measure the actual drop with one of the little instruments we have described, it will be found that the drop is seldom less than two, or even three degrees. If we measure the angular movement of the fork while locked, it will seldom be found less than two or three degrees. Now, we can all understand that the friction of the locking surface has to be counted as well as the recoil of the draw. Locking friction is seldom looked after as carefully as the situation demands. Our factories make the impulse face of the pallets rounded, but leave the locking face flat. We are aware this condition is, in a degree, necessary from the use of exposed pallets. In many of the English lever watches with ratchet teeth, the locking faces are made cylindrical, but with such watches the pallet stones, as far as the writer has seen, are set "close"; that is, with steel pallet arms extending above and below the stone. There is another feature of the club-tooth lever escapement that next demands our attention which we have never seen discussed. We refer to arranging and disposing of the impulse of the escape wheel to meet the resistance of the hairspring. Let us imagine the dotted line _A d_, Fig. 89, to represent the center of action of the fork. We can readily see that the fork in a state of rest would stand half way between the two banks from the action of the hairspring, and in the pallet action the force of the escape wheel, one tooth of which rests on the impulse face of a pallet, would be exerted against the elastic force of the hairspring. If the force of the mainspring, as represented by the escape-wheel tooth, is superior to the power of the hairspring, the watch starts itself. The phases of this important part of the detached lever escapement will be fully discussed. ABOUT THE CLUB-TOOTH ESCAPEMENT. We will now take up a study of the detached lever escapement as relates to pallet action, with the point specially in view of constructing an escapement which cannot "set" in the pocket, or, in other words, an escapement which will start after winding (if run down) without shaking or any force other than that supplied by the train as impelled by the mainspring. In the drawing at Fig. 90 we propose to utilize eleven degrees of escape-wheel action, against ten and a half, as laid down by Grossmann. Of this eleven degrees we propose to divide the impulse arc of the escape wheel in six and five degrees, six to be derived from the impulse face of the club tooth and five from the impulse plane of the pallet. The pallet action we divide into five and four, with one degree of lock. Five degrees of pallet action is derived from the impulse face of the tooth and four from the impulse face of the pallet. The reader will please bear in mind that we do not give these proportions as imperative, because we propose to give the fullest evidence into the reader's hands and enable him to judge for himself, as we do not believe in laying down imperious laws that the reader must accept on our assertion as being correct. Our idea is rather to furnish the proper facts and put him in a situation to know for himself. The reader is urged to make the drawings for himself on a large scale, say, an escape wheel 10" pitch diameter. Such drawings will enable him to realize small errors which have been tolerated too much in drawings of this kind. The drawings, as they appear in the cut, are one-fourth the size recommended, and many of the lines fail to show points we desire to call attention to. As for instance, the pallet center at _B_ is tangential to the pitch circle _a_ from the point of tooth contact at _f_. To establish this point we draw the radial lines _A c_ and _A d_ from the escape-wheel center _A_, as shown, by laying off thirty degrees on each side of the intersection of the vertical line _i_ (passing through the centers _A B_) with the arc _a_, and then laying off two and a half degrees on _a_ and establishing the point _f_, and through _f_ from the center _A_ draw the radial line _A f'_. Through the point _f_ we draw the tangent line _b' b b''_, and at the intersection of the line _b_ with _i_ we establish the center of our pallet staff at _B_. At two and a half degrees from the point _c_ we lay off two and a half degrees to the right of said point and establish the point _n_, and draw the radial line _A n n'_, which establishes the extent of the arc of angular motion of the escape wheel utilized by the pallet arm. [Illustration: Fig. 90] We have now come to the point where we must exercise our reasoning powers a little. We know the locking angle of the escape-wheel tooth passes on the arc _a_, and if we utilize the impulse face of the tooth for five degrees of pallet or lever motion we must shape it to this end. We draw the short arc _k_ through the point _n_, knowing that the inner angle of the pallet stone must rest on this arc wherever it is situated. As, for instance, when the locking face of the pallet is engaged, the inner angle of the pallet stone must rest somewhere on this arc (_k_) inside of _a_, and the extreme outer angle of the impulse face of the tooth must part with the pallet on this arc _k_. HOW TO LOCATE THE PALLET ACTION. With the parts related to each other as shown in the cut, to establish where the inner angle of the pallet stone is located in the drawing, we measure down on the arc _k_ five degrees from its intersection with _a_, and establish the point _s_. The line _B b_, Fig. 90, as the reader will see, does not coincide with the intersection of the arcs _a_ and _k_, and to conveniently get at the proper location for the inner angle of our pallet stone, we draw the line _B b'_, which passes through the point _n_ located at the intersection of the arc _a_ with the arc _k_. From _B_ as a center we sweep the short arc _j_ with any convenient radius of which we have a sixty-degree scale, and from the intersection of _B b'_ with _j_ we lay off five degrees and draw the line _B s'_, which establishes the point _s_ on the arc _k_. As stated above, we allow one degree for lock, which we establish on the arc _o_ by laying off one degree on the arc _j_ below its intersection with the line _B b_. We do not show this line in the drawing, from the fact that it comes so near to _B b'_ that it would confuse the reader. Above the arc _a_ on the arc _k_ at five degrees from the point _n_ we establish the point _l_, by laying off five degrees on the arc _j_ above the intersection of the line _B b_ with _j_. The point _l_, Fig. 90, establishes where the outer angle of the tooth will pass the arc _k_ to give five degrees of angular motion to the lever. From _A_ as a center we sweep the arc _m_, passing through the point _l_. The intersection of the arc _m_ with the line _A h_ we call the point _r_, and by drawing the right line _r f_ we delineate the impulse face of the tooth. On the arc _o_ and one degree below its intersection with the line _B b_ we establish the point _t_, and by drawing a right line from _t_ to _s_ we delineate the impulse face of our entrance pallet. "ACTION" DRAWINGS. One great fault with most of our text books on horology lies in the fact that when dealing with the detached lever escapement the drawings show only the position of the pallets when locked, and many of the conditions assumed are arrived at by mental processes, without making the proper drawings to show the actual relation of the parts at the time such conditions exist. For illustration, it is often urged that there is a time in the action of the club-tooth lever escapement action when the incline on the tooth and the incline on the pallet present parallel surfaces, and consequently endure excessive friction, especially if the oil is a little thickened. We propose to make drawings to show the exact position and relation of the entrance pallet and tooth at three intervals viz: (1) Locked; (2) the position of the parts when the lever has performed one-half of its angular motion; (3) when half of the impulse face of the tooth has passed the pallet. The position of the entrance pallet when locked is sufficiently well shown in Fig. 90 to give a correct idea of the relations with the entrance pallet; and to conform to statement (2), as above. We will now delineate the entrance pallet, not in actual contact, however, with the pallet, because if we did so the lines we employed would become confused. The methods we use are such that _we can delineate with absolute correctness either a pallet or tooth at any point in its angular motion_. We have previously given instructions for drawing the pallet locked; and to delineate the pallet after five degrees of angular motion, we have only to conceive that we substitute the line _s'_ for the line _b'_. All angular motions and measurements for pallet actions are from the center of the pallet staff at _B_. As we desire to now delineate the entrance pallet, it has passed through five degrees of angular motion and the inner angle _s_ now lies on the pitch circle of the escape wheel, the angular space between the lines _b' s'_ being five degrees, the line _b''_ reducing the impulse face to four degrees. DRAWING AN ESCAPEMENT TO SHOW ANGULAR MOTION. To delineate our locking face we draw a line at right angles to the line _B b''_ from the point _t_, said point being located at the intersection of the arc _o_ with the line _B b''_. To draw a line perpendicular to _B b''_ from the point _t_, we take a convenient space in our dividers and establish on the line _B b''_ the points _x x'_ at equal distances from the point _t_. We open the dividers a little (no special distance) and sweep the short arcs _x'' x'''_, as shown at Fig. 91. Through the intersection of the short arcs _x'' x'''_ and to the point _t_ we draw the line _t y_. The reader will see from our former explanations that the line _t y_ represents the neutral plane of the locking face, and that to have the proper draw we must delineate the locking face of our pallet at twelve degrees. To do this we draw the line _t x'_ at twelve degrees to the line _t y_, and proceed to outline our pallet faces as shown. We can now understand, after a moment's thought, that we can delineate the impulse face of a tooth at any point or place we choose by laying off six degrees on the arc _m_, and drawing radial lines from _A_ to embrace such arc. To illustrate, suppose we draw the radial lines _w' w''_ to embrace six degrees on the arc _a_. We make these lines contiguous to the entrance pallet _C_ for convenience only. To delineate the impulse face of the tooth, we draw a line extending from the intersection of the radial line _A' w'_ with the arc _m_ to the intersection of the arc _a_ with the radial line _A w''_. [Illustration: Fig. 91] We next desire to know where contact will take place between the wheel-tooth _D_ and pallet _C_. To determine this we sweep, with our dividers set so one leg rests at the escape-wheel center _A_ and the other at the outer angle _t_ of the entrance pallet, the short arc _t' w_. Where this arc intersects the line _w_ (which represents the impulse face of the tooth) is where the outer angle _t_ of the entrance pallet _C_ will touch the impulse face of the tooth. To prove this we draw the radial line _A v_ through the point where the short arc _t t'_ passes through the impulse face _w_ of the tooth _D_. Then we continue the line _w_ to _n_, to represent the impulse face of the tooth, and then measure the angle _A w n_ between the lines _w n_ and _v A_, and find it to be approximately sixty-four degrees. We then, by a similar process, measure the angle _A t s'_ and find it to be approximately sixty-six degrees. When contact ensues between the tooth _D_ and pallet _C_ the tooth _D_ will attack the pallet at the point where the radial line _A v_ crosses the tooth face. We have now explained how we can delineate a tooth or pallet at any point of its angular motion, and will next explain how to apply this knowledge in actual practice. PRACTICAL PROBLEMS IN THE LEVER ESCAPEMENT. To delineate our entrance pallet after one-half of the engaged tooth has passed the inner angle of the entrance pallet, we proceed, as in former illustrations, to establish the escape-wheel center at _A_, and from it sweep the arc _b_, to represent the pitch circle. We next sweep the short arcs _p s_, to represent the arcs through which the inner and outer angles of the entrance pallet move. Now, to comply with our statement as above, we must draw the tooth as if half of it has passed the arc _s_. To do this we draw from _A_ as a center the radial line _A j_, passing through the point _s_, said point _s_ being located at the intersection of the arcs _s_ and _b_. The tooth _D_ is to be shown as if one half of it has passed the point _s_; and, consequently, if we lay off three degrees on each side of the point _s_ and establish the points _d m_, we have located on the arc _b_ the angular extent of the tooth to be drawn. To aid in our delineations we draw from the center _A_ the radial lines _A d'_ and _A m'_, passing through the points _d m_. The arc _a_ is next drawn as in former instructions and establishes the length of the addendum of the escape-wheel teeth, the outer angle of our escape-wheel tooth being located at the intersection of the arc _a_ with the radial line _A d'_. As shown in Fig. 92, the impulse planes of the tooth _D_ and pallet _C_ are in contact and, consequently, in parallel planes, as mentioned on page 91. It is not an easy matter to determine at exactly what degree of angular motion of the escape wheel such condition takes place; because to determine such relation mathematically requires a knowledge of higher mathematics, which would require more study than most practical men would care to bestow, especially as they would have but very little use for such knowledge except for this problem and a few others in dealing with epicycloidal curves for the teeth of wheels. For all practical purposes it will make no difference whether such parallelism takes place after eight or nine degrees of angular motion of the escape wheel subsequent to the locking action. The great point, as far as practical results go, is to determine if it takes place at or near the time the escape wheel meets the greatest resistance from the hairspring. We find by analysis of our drawing that parallelism takes place about the time when the tooth has three degrees of angular motion to make, and the pallet lacks about two degrees of angular movement for the tooth to escape. It is thus evident that the relations, as shown in our drawing, are in favor of the train or mainspring power over hairspring resistance as three is to two, while the average is only as eleven to ten; that is, the escape wheel in its entire effort passes through eleven degrees of angular motion, while the pallets and fork move through ten degrees. The student will thus see we have arranged to give the train-power an advantage where it is most needed to overcome the opposing influence of the hairspring. [Illustration: Fig. 92] As regards the exalted adhesion of the parallel surfaces, we fancy there is more harm feared than really exists, because, to take the worst view of the situation, such parallelism only exists for the briefest duration, in a practical sense, because theoretically these surfaces never slide on each other as parallel planes. Mathematically considered, the theoretical plane represented by the impulse face of the tooth approaches parallelism with the plane represented by the impulse face of the pallet, arrives at parallelism and instantly passes away from such parallelism. TO DRAW A PALLET IN ANY POSITION. As delineated in Fig. 92, the impulse planes of the tooth and pallet are in contact; but we have it in our power to delineate the pallet at any point we choose between the arcs _p s_. To describe and illustrate the above remark, we say the lines _B e_ and _B f_ embrace five degrees of angular motion of the pallet. Now, the impulse plane of the pallet occupies four of these five degrees. We do not draw a radial line from _B_ inside of the line _B e_ to show where the outer angle of the impulse plane commences, but the reader will see that the impulse plane is drawn one degree on the arc _p_ below the line _B e_. We continue the line _h h_ to represent the impulse face of the tooth, and measure the angle _B n h_ and find it to be twenty-seven degrees. Now suppose we wish to delineate the entrance pallet as if not in contact with the escape-wheel tooth--for illustration, say, we wish the inner angle of the pallet to be at the point _v_ on the arc _s_. We draw the radial line _B l_ through _v_; and if we draw another line so it passes through the point _v_ at an angle of twenty-seven degrees to _B l_, and continue said line so it crosses the arc _p_, we delineate the impulse face of our pallet. We measure the angle _i n B_, Fig. 92, and find it to be seventy-four degrees; we draw the line _v t_ to the same angle with _v B_, and we define the inner face of our pallet in the new position. We draw a line parallel with _v t_ from the intersection of the line _v y_ with the arc _p_, and we define our locking face. If now we revolve the lines we have just drawn on the center _B_ until the line _l B_ coincides with the line _f B_, we will find the line _y y_ to coincide with _h h_, and the line _v v'_ with _n i_. HIGHER MATHEMATICS APPLIED TO THE LEVER ESCAPEMENT. We have now instructed the reader how to delineate either tooth or pallet in any conceivable position in which they can be related to each other. Probably nothing has afforded more efficient aid to practical mechanics than has been afforded by the graphic solution of abstruce mathematical problems; and if we add to this the means of correction by mathematical calculations which do not involve the highest mathematical acquirements, we have approached pretty close to the actual requirements of the practical watchmaker. [Illustration: Fig. 93] To better explain what we mean, we refer the reader to Fig. 93, where we show preliminary drawings for delineating a lever escapement. We wish to ascertain by the graphic method the distance between the centers of action of the escape wheel and the pallet staff. We make our drawing very carefully to a given scale, as, for instance, the radius of the arc _a_ is 5". After the drawing is in the condition shown at Fig. 93 we measure the distance on the line _b_ between the points (centers) _A B_, and we thus by graphic means obtain a measure of the distance between _A B_. Now, by the use of trigonometry, we have the length of the line _A f_ (radius of the arc _a_) and all the angles given, to find the length of _f B_, or _A B_, or both _f B_ and _A B_. By adopting this policy we can verify the measurements taken from our drawings. Suppose we find by the graphic method that the distance between the points _A B_ is 5.78", and by trigonometrical computation find the distance to be 5.7762". We know from this that there is .0038" to be accounted for somewhere; but for all practical purposes either measurement should be satisfactory, because our drawing is about thirty-eight times the actual size of the escape wheel of an eighteen-size movement. HOW THE BASIS FOR CLOSE MEASUREMENTS IS OBTAINED. Let us further suppose the diameter of our actual escape wheel to be .26", and we were constructing a watch after the lines of our drawing. By "lines," in this case, we mean in the same general form and ratio of parts; as, for illustration, if the distance from the intersection of the arc _a_ with the line _b_ to the point _B_ was one-fifteenth of the diameter of the escape wheel, this ratio would hold good in the actual watch, that is, it would be the one-fifteenth part of .26". Again, suppose the diameter of the escape wheel in the large drawing is 10" and the distance between the centers _A B_ is 5.78"; to obtain the actual distance for the watch with the escape wheel .26" diameter, we make a statement in proportion, thus: 10 : 5.78 :: .26 to the actual distance between the pivot holes of the watch. By computation we find the distance to be .15". These proportions will hold good in every part of actual construction. All parts--thickness of the pallet stones, length of pallet arms, etc.--bear the same ratio of proportion. We measure the thickness of the entrance pallet stone on the large drawing and find it to be .47"; we make a similar statement to the one above, thus: 10 : .47 :: .26 to the actual thickness of the real pallet stone. By computation we find it to be .0122". All angular relations are alike, whether in the large drawing or the small pallets to match the actual escape wheel .26" in diameter. Thus, in the pallet _D_, Fig. 93, the impulse face, as reckoned from _B_ as a center, would occupy four degrees. MAKE A LARGE ESCAPEMENT MODEL. Reason would suggest the idea of having the theoretical keep pace and touch with the practical. It has been a grave fault with many writers on horological matters that they did not make and measure the abstractions which they delineated on paper. We do not mean by this to endorse the cavil we so often hear--"Oh, that is all right in theory, but it will not work in practice." If theory is right, practice must conform to it. The trouble with many theories is, they do not contain all the elements or factors of the problem. [Illustration: Fig. 94] Near the beginning of this treatise we advised our readers to make a large model, and described in detail the complete parts for such a model. What we propose now is to make adjustable the pallets and fork to such a model, in order that we can set them both right and wrong, and thus practically demonstrate a perfect action and also the various faults to which the lever escapement is subject. The pallet arms are shaped as shown at _A_, Fig. 94. The pallets _B B'_ can be made of steel or stone, and for all practical purposes those made of steel answer quite as well, and have the advantage of being cheaper. A plate of sheet brass should be obtained, shaped as shown at _C_, Fig. 95. This plate is of thin brass, about No. 18, and on it are outlined the pallet arms shown at Fig. 94. [Illustration: Fig. 95] [Illustration: Fig. 96] [Illustration: Fig. 97] [Illustration: Fig. 98] To make the pallets adjustable, they are set in thick disks of sheet brass, as shown at _D_, Figs. 95, 96 and 97. At the center of the plate _C_ is placed a brass disk _E_, Fig. 98, which serves to support the lever shown at Fig. 99. This disk _E_ is permanently attached to the plate _C_. The lever shown at Fig. 99 is attached to the disk _E_ by two screws, which pass through the holes _h h_. If we now place the brass pieces _D D'_ on the plate _C_ in such a way that the pallets set in them correspond exactly to the pallets as outlined on the plate _C_, we will find the action of the pallets to be precisely the same as if the pallet arms _A A'_, Fig. 94, were employed. [Illustration: Fig. 99] To enable us to practically experiment with and to fully demonstrate all the problems of lock, draw, drop, etc., we make quite a large hole in _C_ where the screws _b_ come. To explain, if the screws _b b_ were tapped directly into _C_, as they are shown at Fig. 95, we could only turn the disk _D_ on the screw _b_; but if we enlarge the screw hole in _C_ to three or four times the natural diameter, and then place the nut _e_ under _C_ to receive the screw _b_, we can then set the disks _D D'_ and pallets _B B'_ in almost any relation we choose to the escape wheel, and clamp the pallets fast and try the action. We show at Fig. 97 a view of the pallet _B'_, disk _D'_ and plate _C_ (seen in the direction of the arrow _c_) as shown in Fig. 95. PRACTICAL LESSONS WITH FORK AND PALLET ACTION. It will be noticed in Fig. 99 that the hole _g_ for the pallet staff in the lever is oblong; this is to allow the lever to be shifted back and forth as relates to roller and fork action. We will not bother about this now, and only call attention to the capabilities of such adjustments when required. At the outset we will conceive the fork _F_ attached to the piece _E_ by two screws passing through the holes _h h_, Fig. 99. Such an arrangement will insure the fork and roller action keeping right if they are put right at first. Fig. 100 will do much to aid in conveying a clear impression to the reader. The idea of the adjustable features of our escapement model is to show the effects of setting the pallets wrong or having them of bad form. For illustration, we make use of a pallet with the angle too acute, as shown at _B'''_, Fig. 101. The problem in hand is to find out by mechanical experiments and tests the consequences of such a change. It is evident that the angular motion of the pallet staff will be increased, and that we shall have to open one of the banking pins to allow the engaging tooth to escape. To trace out _all_ the consequences of this one little change would require a considerable amount of study, and many drawings would have to be made to illustrate the effects which would naturally follow only one such slight change. [Illustration: Fig. 100] [Illustration: Fig. 101] Suppose, for illustration, we should make such a change in the pallet stone of the entrance pallet; we have increased the angle between the lines _k l_ by (say) one and a half degrees; by so doing we would increase the lock on the exit pallet to three degrees, provided we were working on a basis of one and a half degrees lock; and if we pushed back the exit pallet so as to have the proper degree of lock (one and a half) on it, the tooth which would next engage the entrance pallet would not lock at all, but would strike the pallet on the impulse instead of on the locking face. Again, such a change might cause the jewel pin to strike the horn of the fork, as indicated at the dotted line _m_, Fig. 99. Dealing with such and similar abstractions by mental process requires the closest kind of reasoning; and if we attempt to delineate all the complications which follow even such a small change, we will find the job a lengthy one. But with a large model having adjustable parts we provide ourselves with the means for the very best practical solution, and the workman who makes and manipulates such a model will soon master the lever escapement. QUIZ PROBLEMS IN THE DETACHED LEVER ESCAPEMENT. Some years ago a young watchmaker friend of the writer made, at his suggestion, a model of the lever escapement similar to the one described, which he used to "play with," as he termed it--that is, he would set the fork and pallets (which were adjustable) in all sorts of ways, right ways and wrong ways, so he could watch the results. A favorite pastime was to set every part for the best results, which was determined by the arc of vibration of the balance. By this sort of training he soon reached that degree of proficiency where one could no more puzzle him with a bad lever escapement than you could spoil a meal for him by disarranging his knife, fork and spoon. Let us, as a practical example, take up the consideration of a short fork. To represent this in our model we take a lever as shown at Fig. 99, with the elongated slot for the pallet staff at _g_. To facilitate the description we reproduce at Fig. 102 the figure just mentioned, and also employ the same letters of reference. We fancy everybody who has any knowledge of the lever escapement has an idea of exactly what a "short fork" is, and at the same time it would perhaps puzzle them a good deal to explain the difference between a short fork and a roller too small. [Illustration: Fig. 102] [Illustration: Fig. 103] In our practical problems, as solved on a large escapement model, say we first fit our fork of the proper length, and then by the slot _g_ move the lever back a little, leaving the bankings precisely as they were. What are the consequences of this slight change? One of the first results which would display itself would be discovered by the guard pin failing to perform its proper functions. For instance, the guard pin pushed inward against the roller would cause the engaged tooth to pass off the locking face of the pallet, and the fork, instead of returning against the banking, would cause the guard pin to "ride the roller" during the entire excursion of the jewel pin. This fault produces a scraping sound in a watch. Suppose we attempt to remedy the fault by bending forward the guard pin _b_, as indicated by the dotted outline _b'_ in Fig. 103, said figure being a side view of Fig. 102 seen in the direction of the arrow _a_. This policy would prevent the engaged pallet from passing off of the locking face of the pallet, but would be followed by the jewel pin not passing fully into the fork, but striking the inside face of the prong of the fork at about the point indicated by the dotted line _m_. We can see that if the prong of the fork was extended to about the length indicated by the outline at _c_, the action would be as it should be. To practically investigate this matter to the best advantage, we need some arrangement by which we can determine the angular motion of the lever and also of the roller and escape wheel. To do this, we provide ourselves with a device which has already been described, but of smaller size, for measuring fork and pallet action. The device to which we allude is shown at Figs. 104, 105 and 106. Fig. 104 shows only the index hand, which is made of steel about 1/20" thick and shaped as shown. The jaws _B''_ are intended to grasp the pallet staff by the notches _e_, and hold by friction. The prongs _l l_ are only to guard the staff so it will readily enter the notch _e_. The circle _d_ is only to enable us to better hold the hand _B_ flat. [Illustration: Fig. 104] HOW TO MEASURE ESCAPEMENT ANGLES. From the center of the notches _e_ to the tip of the index hand _B'_ the length is 2". This distance is also the radius of the index arc _C_. This index arc is divided into thirty degrees, with three or four supplementary degrees on each side, as shown. For measuring pallet action we only require ten degrees, and for roller action thirty degrees. The arc _C_, Fig. 105, can be made of brass and is about 1½" long by ¼" wide; said arc is mounted on a brass wire about 1/8" diameter, as shown at _k_, Fig. 106, which is a view of Fig. 105 seen in the direction of the arrow _i_. This wire _k_ enters a base shown at _D E_, Fig. 106, which is provided with a set-screw at _j_ for holding the index arc at the proper height to coincide with the hand _B_. [Illustration: Fig. 105] [Illustration: Fig. 106] A good way to get up the parts shown in Fig. 106 is to take a disk of thick sheet brass about 1" in diameter and insert in it a piece of brass wire about ¼" diameter and 3/8" long, through which drill axially a hole to receive the wire _k_. After the jaws _B''_ are clamped on the pallet staff, we set the index arc _C_ so the hand _B'_ will indicate the angular motion of the pallet staff. By placing the index hand _B_ on the balance staff we can get at the exact angular duration of the engagement of the jewel pin in the fork. Of course, it is understood that this instrument will also measure the angles of impulse and lock. Thus, suppose the entire angular motion of the lever from bank to bank is ten degrees; to determine how much of this is lock and how much impulse, we set the index arc _C_ so that the hand _B'_ marks ten degrees for the entire motion of the fork, and when the escapement is locked we move the fork from its bank and notice by the arc _C_ how many degrees the hand indicated before it passed of its own accord to the opposite bank. If we have more than one and a half degrees of lock we have too much and should seek to remedy it. How? It is just the answers to such questions we propose to give by the aid of our big model. DETERMINATION OF "RIGHT" METHODS. "Be sure you are right, then go ahead," was the advice of the celebrated Davie Crockett. The only trouble in applying this motto to watchmaking is to know when you are right. We have also often heard the remark that there was only one right way, but any number of wrong ways. Now we are inclined to think that most of the people who hold to but one right way are chiefly those who believe all ways but their own ways are wrong. Iron-bound rules are seldom sound even in ethics, and are utterly impracticable in mechanics. We have seen many workmen who had learned to draw a lever escapement of a given type, and lived firm in the belief that all lever escapements were wrong which were not made so as to conform to this certain method. One workman believes in equidistant lockings, another in circular pallets; each strong in the idea that their particular and peculiar method of designing a lever escapement was the only one to be tolerated. The writer is free to confess that he has seen lever escapements of both types, that is, circular pallets and equidistant lockings, which gave excellent results. Another mooted point in the lever escapement is, to decide between the merits of the ratchet and the club-tooth escape wheel. English makers, as a rule, hold to the ratchet tooth, while Continental and American manufacturers favor the club tooth. The chief arguments in favor of the ratchet tooth are: (_a_) It will run without oiling the pallets; (_b_) in case the escape wheel is lost or broken it is more readily replaced, as all ratchet-tooth escape wheels are alike, either for circular pallets or equidistant lockings. The objections urged against it are: (_a_) Excessive drop; (_b_) the escape wheel, being frail, is liable to be injured by incompetent persons handling it; (_c_) this escapement in many instances does require to have the pallets oiled. ESCAPEMENTS COMPARED. (_a_) That a ratchet-tooth escape wheel requires more drop than a club tooth must be admitted without argument, as this form of tooth requires from one-half to three-fourths of a degree more drop than a club tooth; (_b_) as regards the frailty of the teeth we hold this as of small import, as any workman who is competent to repair watches would never injure the delicate teeth of an escape wheel; (_c_) ratchet-tooth lever escapements will occasionally need to have the pallets oiled. The writer is inclined to think that this defect could be remedied by proper care in selecting the stone (ruby or sapphire) and grinding the pallets in such a way that the escape-wheel teeth will not act against the foliations with which all crystalline stones are built up. All workmen who have had an extended experience in repair work are well aware that there are some lever escapements in which the pallets absolutely require oil; others will seem to get along very nicely without. This applies also to American brass club-tooth escapements; hence, we have so much contention about oiling pallets. The writer does not claim to know positively that the pallet stones are at fault because some escapements need oiling, but the fact must admit of explanation some way, and is this not at least a rational solution? All persons who have paid attention to crystallography are aware that crystals are built up, and have lines of cleavage. In the manufacture of hole jewels, care must be taken to work with the axis of crystallization, or a smooth hole cannot be obtained. The advantages claimed for the club-tooth escapement are many; among them may be cited (_a_) the fact that it utilizes a greater arc of impulse of the escape wheel; (_b_) the impulse being divided between the tooth and the pallet, permits greater power to be utilized at the close of the impulse. This feature we have already explained. It is no doubt true that it is more difficult to match a set of pallets with an escape wheel of the club-tooth order than with a ratchet tooth; still the writer thinks that this objection is of but little consequence where a workman knows exactly what to do and how to do it; in other words, is sure he is right, and can then go ahead intelligently. It is claimed by some that all American escape wheels of a given grade are exact duplicates; but, as we have previously stated, this is not exactly the case, as they vary a trifle. So do the pallet jewels vary a little in thickness and in the angles. Suppose we put in a new escape wheel and find we have on the entrance pallet too much drop, that is, the tooth which engaged this pallet made a decided movement forward before the tooth which engaged the exit pallet encountered the locking face of said pallet. If we thoroughly understand the lever escapement we can see in an instant if putting in a thicker pallet stone for entrance pallet will remedy the defect. Here again we can study the effects of a change in our large model better than in an escapement no larger than is in an ordinary watch. HOW TO SET PALLET STONES. There have been many devices brought forward to aid the workman in adjusting the pallet stones to lever watches. Before going into the details of any such device we should thoroughly understand exactly what we desire to accomplish. In setting pallet stones we must take into consideration the relation of the roller and fork action. As has already been explained, the first thing to do is to set the roller and fork action as it should be, without regard in a great degree to pallet action. [Illustration: Fig. 107] To explain, suppose we have a pallet stone to set in a full-plate movement. The first thing to do is to close the bankings so that the jewel pin will not pass out of the slot in the fork on either side; then gradually open the bankings until the jewel pin will pass out. This will be understood by inspecting Fig. 107, where _A A'_ shows a lever fork as if in contact with both banks, and the jewel pin, represented at _B B''_, just passes the angle _a c'_ of the fork. The circle described by the jewel pin _B_ is indicated by the arc _e_. It is well to put a slight friction under the balance rim, in order that we can try the freedom of the guard pin. As a rule, all the guard pin needs is to be free and not touch the roller. The entire point, as far as setting the fork and bankings is concerned, is to have the fork and roller action sound. For all ordinary lever escapements the angular motion of the lever banked in as just described should be _about_ ten degrees. As explained in former examples, if the fork action is entirely sound and the lever only vibrates through an arc of nine degrees, it is quite as well to make the pallets conform to this arc as to make the jewel pin carry the fork through full ten degrees. Again, if the lever vibrates through eleven degrees, it is as well to make the pallets conform to this arc. The writer is well aware that many readers will cavil at this idea and insist that the workman should bring all the parts right on the basis of ten degrees fork and lever action. In reply we would say that no escapement is perfect, and it is the duty of the workman to get the best results he can for the money he gets for the job. In the instance given above, of the escapement with nine degrees of lever action, when the fork worked all right, if we undertook to give the fork the ten degrees demanded by the stickler for accuracy we would have to set out the jewel pin or lengthen the fork, and to do either would require more time than it would to bring the pallets to conform to the fork and roller action. It is just this knowing how and the decision to act that makes the difference in the workman who is worth to his employer twelve or twenty-five dollars per week. We have described instruments for measuring the angle of fork and pallet action, but after one has had experience he can judge pretty nearly and then it is seldom necessary to measure the angle of fork action as long as it is near the proper thing, and then bring the pallets to match the escape wheel after the fork and roller action is as it should be--that is, the jewel pin and fork work free, the guard pin has proper freedom, and the fork vibrates through an arc of about ten degrees. Usually the workman can manipulate the pallets to match the escape wheel so that the teeth will have the proper lock and drop at the right instant, and again have the correct lock on the next succeeding pallet. The tooth should fall but a slight distance before the tooth next in action locks it, because all the angular motion the escape wheel makes except when in contact with the pallets is just so much lost power, which should go toward giving motion to the balance. There seems to be a little confusion in the use of the word "drop" in horological phrase, as it is used to express the act of parting of the tooth with the pallet. The idea will be seen by inspecting Fig. 108, where we show the tooth _D_ and pallet _C_ as about parting or dropping. When we speak of "banking up to the drop" we mean we set the banking screws so that the teeth will just escape from each pallet. By the term "fall" we mean the arc the tooth passes through before the next pallet is engaged. This action is also illustrated at Fig. 108, where the tooth _D_, after dropping from the pallet _C_, is arrested at the position shown by the dotted outline. We designate this arc by the term "fall," and we measure this motion by its angular extent, as shown by the dotted radial lines _i f_ and _i g_. As we have explained, this fall should only extend through an arc of one and a half degrees, but by close escapement matching this arc can be reduced to one degree, or even a trifle less. [Illustration: Fig. 108] We shall next describe an instrument for holding the escape wheel and pallets while adjusting them. As shown at Fig. 107, the fork _A'_ is banked a little close and the jewel pin as shown would, in some portions, rub on _C'_, making a scraping sound. HOW TO MAKE AN ESCAPEMENT MATCHING TOOL. [Illustration: Fig. 109] A point has now been reached where we can use an escapement matcher to advantage. There are several good ones on the market, but we can make one very cheaply and also add our own improvements. In making one, the first thing to be provided is a movement holder. Any of the three-jaw types of such holders will answer, provided the jaws hold a movement plate perfectly parallel with the bed of the holder. This will be better understood by inspecting Fig. 109, which is a side view of a device of this kind seen edgewise in elevation. In this _B_ represents the bed plate, which supports three swing jaws, shown at _C_, Figs. 109 and 110. The watch plate is indicated by the parallel dotted lines _A_, Fig. 109. The seat _a_ of the swing jaws _C_ must hold the watch plate _A_ exactly parallel with the bed plate _B_. In the cheap movement holders these seats (_a_) are apt to be of irregular heights, and must be corrected for our purpose. We will take it for granted that all the seats _a_ are of precisely the same height, measured from _B_, and that a watch plate placed in the jaws _C_ will be held exactly parallel with the said bed _B_. We must next provide two pillars, shown at _D E_, Figs. 109 and 111. These pillars furnish support for sliding centers which hold the top pivots of the escape wheel and pallet staff while we are testing the depths and adjusting the pallet stones. It will be understood that these pillars _D E_ are at right angles to the plane of the bed _B_, in order that the slides like _G N_ on the pillars _D E_ move exactly vertical. In fact, all the parts moving up and down should be accurately made, so as not to destroy the depths taken from the watch plate _A_. Suppose, to illustrate, that we place the plate _A_ in position as shown, and insert the cone point _n_, Figs. 109 and 112, in the pivot hole for the pallet staff, adjusting the slide _G N_ so that the cone point rests accurately in said pivot hole. It is further demanded that the parts _I H F G N D_ be so constructed and adjusted that the sliding center _I_ moves truly vertical, and that we can change ends with said center _I_ and place the hollow cone end _m_, Fig. 112, so it will receive the top pivot of the pallet staff and hold it exactly upright. [Illustration: Fig. 110] [Illustration: Fig. 111] [Illustration: Fig. 112] The idea of the sliding center _I_ is to perfectly supply the place of the opposite plate of the watch and give us exactly the same practical depths as if the parts were in their place between the plates of the movement. The foot of the pillar _D_ has a flange attached, as shown at _f_, which aids in holding it perfectly upright. It is well to cut a screw on _D_ at _D'_, and screw the flange _f_ on such screw and then turn the lower face of _f_ flat to aid in having the pillar _D_ perfectly upright. DETAILS OF FITTING UP ESCAPEMENT MATCHER. It is well to fit the screw _D'_ loosely, so that the flange _f_ will come perfectly flat with the upper surface of the base plate _B_. The slide _G N_ on the pillar _D_ can be made of two pieces of small brass tube, one fitting the pillar _D_ and the other the bar _F_. The slide _G N_ is held in position by the set screw _g_, and the rod _F_ by the set screw _h_. [Illustration: Fig. 113] [Illustration: Fig. 114] The piece _H_ can be permanently attached to the rod _F_. We show separate at Figs. 113 and 114 the slide _G N_ on an enlarged scale from Fig. 109. Fig. 114 is a view of Fig. 113 seen in the direction of the arrow _e_. All joints and movable parts should work free, in order that the center _I_ may be readily and accurately set. The parts _H F_ are shown separate and enlarged at Figs. 115 and 116. The piece _H_ can be made of thick sheet brass securely attached to _F_ in such a way as to bring the V-shaped groove at right angles to the axis of the rod _F_. It is well to make the rod _F_ about 1/8" in diameter, while the sliding center _I_ need not be more than 1/16" in diameter. The cone point _n_ should be hardened to a spring temper and turned to a true cone in an accurately running wire chuck. [Illustration: Fig. 115] [Illustration: Fig. 116] The hollow cone end _m_ of _I_ should also be hardened, but this is best done after the hollow cone is turned in. The hardening of both ends should only be at the tips. The sliding center _I_ can be held in the V-shaped groove by two light friction springs, as indicated at the dotted lines _s s_, Fig. 115, or a flat plate of No. 24 or 25 sheet brass of the size of _H_ can be employed, as shown at Figs. 116 and 117, where _o_ represents the plate of No. 24 brass, _p p_ the small screws attaching the plate _o_ to _H_, and _k_ a clamping screw to fasten _I_ in position. It will be found that the two light springs _s s_, Fig. 115 will be the most satisfactory. The wire legs, shown at _L_, will aid in making the device set steady. The pillar _E_ is provided with the same slides and other parts as described and illustrated as attached to _D_. The position of the pillars _D_ and _E_ are indicated at Fig. 110. [Illustration: Fig. 117] [Illustration: Fig. 118] We will next tell how to flatten _F_ to keep _H_ exactly vertical. To aid in explanation, we will show (enlarged) at Fig. 118 the bar _F_ shown in Fig. 109. In flattening such pieces to prevent turning, we should cut away about two-fifths, as shown at Fig. 119, which is an end view of Fig. 118 seen in the direction of the arrow _c_. In such flattening we should not only cut away two-fifths at one end, but we must preserve this proportion from end to end. To aid in this operation we make a fixed gage of sheet metal, shaped as shown at _I_, Fig. 120. [Illustration: Fig. 119] ESCAPEMENT MATCHING DEVICE DESCRIBED. [Illustration: Fig. 120] In practical construction we first file away about two-fifths of _F_ and then grind the flat side on a glass slab to a flat, even surface and, of course, equal thickness from end to end. We reproduce the sleeve _G_ as shown at Fig. 113 as if seen from the left and in the direction of the axis of the bar _F_. To prevent the bar _F_ turning on its axis, we insert in the sleeve _G_ a piece of wire of the same size as _F_ but with three-fifths cut away, as shown at _y_, Fig. 121. This piece _y_ is soldered in the sleeve _G_ so its flat face stands vertical. To give service and efficiency to the screw _h_, we thicken the side of the sleeve _F_ by adding the stud _w_, through which the screw _h_ works. A soft metal plug goes between the screw _h_ and the bar _F_, to prevent _F_ being cut up and marred. It will be seen that we can place the top plate of a full-plate movement in the device shown at Fig. 109 and set the vertical centers _I_ so the cone points _n_ will rest in the pivot holes of the escape wheel and pallets. It is to be understood that the lower side of the top plate is placed uppermost in the movement holder. [Illustration: Fig. 121] If we now reverse the ends of the centers _I_ and let the pivots of the escape wheel and pallet staff rest in the hollow cones of these centers _I_, we have the escape wheel and pallets in precisely the same position and relation to each other as if the lower plate was in position. It is further to be supposed that the balance is in place and the cock screwed down, although the presence of the balance is not absolutely necessary if the banking screws are set as directed, that is, so the jewel pin will just freely pass in and out of the fork. HOW TO SET PALLET STONES. We have now come to setting or manipulating the pallet stones so they will act in exact conjunction with the fork and roller. To do this we need to have the shellac which holds the pallet stones heated enough to make it plastic. The usual way is to heat a piece of metal and place it in close proximity to the pallets, or to heat a pair of pliers and clamp the pallet arms to soften the cement. Of course, it is understood that the movement holder cannot be moved about while the stones are being manipulated. The better way is to set the movement holder on a rather heavy plate of glass or metal, so that the holder will not jostle about; then set the lamp so it will do its duty, and after a little practice the setting of a pair of pallet stones to perfectly perform their functions will take but a few minutes. In fact, if the stones will answer at all, three to five minutes is as much time as one could well devote to the adjustment. The reader will see that if the lever is properly banked all he has to do is to set the stones so the lock, draw and drop are right, when the entire escapement is as it should be, and will need no further trial or manipulating. CHAPTER II. THE CYLINDER ESCAPEMENT. There is always in mechanical matters an underlying combination of principles and relations of parts known as "theory." We often hear the remark made that such a thing may be all right in theory, but will not work in practice. This statement has no foundation in fact. If a given mechanical device accords strictly with theory, it will come out all right practically. _Mental conceptions_ of a machine are what we may term their theoretical existence. When we make drawings of a machine mentally conceived, we commence its mechanical construction, and if we make such drawings to scale, and add a specification stating the materials to be employed, we leave only the merest mechanical details to be carried out; the brain work is done and only finger work remains to be executed. With these preliminary remarks we will take up the consideration of the cylinder escapement invented by Robert Graham about the year 1720. It is one of the two so-called frictional rest dead-beat escapements which have come into popular use, the other being the duplex. Usage, or, to put it in other words, experience derived from the actual manufacture of the cylinder escapement, settled the best forms and proportions of the several parts years ago. Still, makers vary slightly on certain lines, which are important for a man who repairs such watches to know and be able to carry out, in order to put them in a condition to perform as intended by the manufacturers. It is not knowing these lines which leaves the average watchmaker so much at sea. He cuts and moves and shifts parts about to see if dumb luck will not supply the correction he does not know how to make. This requisite knowledge does not consist so much in knowing how to file or grind as it does in discriminating where such application of manual dexterity is to be applied. And right here let us make a remark to which we will call attention again later on. The point of this remark lies in the question--How many of the so-called practical watchmakers could tell you what proportion of a cylinder should be cut away from the half shell? How many could explain the difference between the "real" and "apparent" lift? Comparatively few, and yet a knowledge of these things is as important for a watchmaker as it is for a surgeon to understand the action of a man's heart or the relations of the muscles to the bones. ESSENTIAL PARTS OF THE CYLINDER ESCAPEMENT. The cylinder escapement is made up of two essential parts, viz.: the escape wheel and the cylinder. The cylinder escape wheel in all modern watches has fifteen teeth, although Saunier, in his "Modern Horology," delineates a twelve-tooth wheel for apparently no better reason than because it was more easily drawn. We, in this treatise, will consider both the theoretical action and the practical construction, but more particularly the repair of this escapement in a thorough and complete manner. At starting out, we will first agree on the names of the several parts of this escapement, and to aid us in this we will refer to the accompanying drawings, in which Fig. 122 is a side elevation of a cylinder complete and ready to have a balance staked on to it. Fig. 123 shows the cylinder removed from the balance collet. Figs. 124 and 125 show the upper and lower plugs removed from the cylinder. Fig. 126 is a horizontal section of Fig. 122 on the line _i_. Fig. 127 is a side view of one tooth of a cylinder escape wheel as if seen in the direction of the arrow _f_ in Fig. 126. Fig. 128 is a top view of two teeth of a cylinder escape wheel. The names of the several parts usually employed are as follows: _A._--Upper or Main Shell. _A'._--Half Shell. _A''._--Column. _A'''._--Small Shell. _B B' B''._--Balance Collet. _G._--Upper Plug. _H._--Lower Plug. _g._--Entrance Lip of Cylinder. _h._--Exit Lip of Cylinder. _c._--Banking Slot. _C._--Tooth. _D._--U arm. _E._--Stalk of Pillar. _I._--U space. _l._--Point of Tooth. _k._--Heel of Tooth. The cylinder escapement has two engagements or actions, during the passage of each tooth; that is, one on the outside of the cylinder and one on the inside of the shell. As we shall show later on, the cylinder escapement is the only positively dead-beat escapement in use, all others, even the duplex, having a slight recoil during the process of escaping. When the tooth of a cylinder escape wheel while performing its functions, strikes the cylinder shell, it rests dead on the outer or inner surface of the half shell until the action of the balance spring has brought the lip of the cylinder so that the impulse face of the tooth commences to impart motion or power to the balance. [Illustration: Fig. 122] [Illustration: Fig. 123] [Illustration: Fig. 124] [Illustration: Fig. 125] [Illustration: Fig. 126] [Illustration: Fig. 127] [Illustration: Fig. 128] Most writers on horological matters term this act the "lift," which name was no doubt acquired when escapements were chiefly confined to pendulum clocks. Very little thought on the matter will show any person who inspects Fig. 126 that if the tooth _C_ is released or escapes from the inside of the half shell of the cylinder _A_, said cylinder must turn or revolve a little in the direction of the arrow _j_, and also that the next succeeding tooth of the escape wheel will engage the cylinder on the outside of the half shell, falling on the dead or neutral portion of said cylinder, to rest until the hairspring causes the cylinder to turn in the opposite direction and permitting the tooth now resting on the outside of the cylinder to assume the position shown on the drawing. The first problem in our consideration of the theoretical action of the cylinder escapement, is to arrange the parts we have described so as to have these two movements of the escape wheel of like angular values. To explain what we mean by this, we must premise by saying, that as our escape wheel has fifteen teeth and we make each tooth give two impulses in alternate directions we must arrange to have these half-tooth movements exactly alike, or, as stated above, of equal angular values; and also each impulse must convey the same power or force to the balance. All escape wheels of fifteen teeth acting by half impulses must impel the balance during twelve degrees (minus the drop) of escape-wheel action; or, in other words, when a tooth passes out of the cylinder from the position shown at Fig. 126, the form of the impulse face of the tooth and the shape of the exit lip of the cylinder must be such during twelve degrees (less the drop) of the angular motion of the escape wheel. The entire power of such an escape wheel is devoted to giving impulse to the balance. The extent of angular motion of the balance during such impulse is, as previously stated, termed the "lifting angle." This "lifting angle" is by horological writers again divided into real and apparent lifts. This last division is only an imaginary one, as the real lift is the one to be studied and expresses the arc through which the impulse face of the tooth impels the balance during the act of escaping, and so, as we shall subsequently show, should no more be counted than in the detached lever escapement, where a precisely similar condition exists, but is never considered or discussed. We shall for the present take no note of this lifting angle, but confine ourselves to the problem just named, of so arranging and designing our escape-wheel teeth and cylinder that each half of the tooth space shall give equal impulses to the balance with the minimum of drop. To do this we will make a careful drawing of an escape-wheel tooth and cylinder on an enlarged scale; our method of making such drawings will be on a new and original system, which is very simple yet complete. DRAWING THE CYLINDER ESCAPEMENT. All horological--and for that matter all mechanical--drawings are based on two systems of measurements: (1) Linear extent; (2) angular movement. For the first measurement we adopt the inch and its decimals; for the second we adopt degrees, minutes and seconds. For measuring the latter the usual plan is to employ a protractor, which serves the double purpose of enabling us to lay off and delineate any angle and also to measure any angle obtained by the graphic method, and it is thus by this graphic method we propose to solve very simply some of the most abstruce problems in horological delineations. As an instance, we propose to draw our cylinder escapement with no other instruments than a steel straight-edge, showing one-hundredths of an inch, and a pair of dividers; the degree measurement being obtained from arcs of sixty degrees of radii, as will be explained further on. In describing the method for drawing the cylinder escapement we shall make a radical departure from the systems usually laid down in text-books, and seek to simplify the formulas which have heretofore been given for such delineations. In considering the cylinder escapement we shall pursue an analytical course and strive to build up from the underlying principles. In the drawings for this purpose we shall commence with one having an escape wheel of 10" radius, and our first effort will be the primary drawing shown at Fig. 129. Here we establish the point _A_ for the center of our escape wheel, and from this center sweep the short arc _a a_ with a 10" radius, to represent the circumference of our escape wheel. From _A_ we draw the vertical line _A B_, and from the intersection of said line with the arc _a a_ we lay off twelve degree spaces on each side of the line _A B_ on said arc _a_ and establish the points _b c_. From _A_ as a center we draw through the points _b c_ the radial lines _b' c'_. To define the face of the incline to the teeth we set our dividers to the radius of any of the convenient arcs of sixty degrees which we have provided, and sweep the arc _t t_. From the intersection of said arc with the line _A b'_ we lay off on said arc sixty-four degrees and establish the point _g_ and draw the line _b g_. Why we take sixty-four degrees for the angle _A b g_ will be explained later on, when we are discussing the angular motion of the cylinder. By dividing the eleventh degree from the point _b_ on the arc _a a_ into thirds and taking two of them, we establish the point _y_ and draw the radial line _A y'_. Where this line _A y'_ intersects the line _b g_ we name the point _n_, and in it is located the point of the escape-wheel tooth. That portion of the line _b g_ which lies between the points _b_ and _n_ represents the measure of the inner diameter of the cylinder, and also the length of the chord of the arc which rounds the impulse face of the tooth. We divide the space _b n_ into two equal portions and establish the point _e_, which locates the position of the center of the cylinder. From _A_ as a center and through the point _e_ we sweep the arc _e' e'_, and it is on this line that the points establishing the center of the cylinder will in every instance be located. From _A_ as a center, through the point _n_ we sweep the arc _k_, and on this line we locate the points of the escape-wheel teeth. For delineating the curved impulse faces of the escape-wheel teeth we draw from the point _e_ and at right angles to the line _b g_ the line _e o_. We next take in our dividers the radius of the arc _k_, and setting one leg at either of the points _b_ or _n_, establish with the other leg the point _p'_ on the line _e o_, and from the point _p'_ as a center we sweep the arc _b v n_, which defines the curve of the impulse faces of the teeth. From _A_ as a center through the point _p'_ we sweep the arc _p_, and in all instances where we desire to delineate the curved face of a tooth we locate either the position of the point or the heel of such tooth, and setting one leg of our dividers at such point, the other leg resting on the arc _p_, we establish the center from which to sweep the arc defining the face of said tooth. ADVANTAGES GAINED IN SHAPING. The reason for giving a curved form to the impulse face of the teeth of cylinder escape wheels are somewhat intricate, and the problem involves several factors. That there are advantages in so shaping the incline or impulse face is conceded, we believe, by all recent manufacturers. The chief benefit derived from such curved impulse faces will be evident after a little thought and study of the situation and relation of parts as shown in Fig. 129. It will be seen on inspection that the angular motion imparted to the cylinder by the impulse face of the tooth when curved as shown, is greater during the first half of the twelve degrees of escape-wheel action than during the last half, thus giving the escape wheel the advantage at the time the balance spring increases its resistance to the passage of the escape-wheel tooth across the lip of the cylinder. Or, in other words, as the ratio of resistance of the balance spring increases, in a like ratio the curved form of the impulse face of the tooth gives greater power to the escape-wheel action in proportion to the angular motion of the escape wheel. Hence, in actual service it is found that cylinder watches with curved impulse planes to the escape-wheel teeth are less liable to set in the pocket than the teeth having straight impulse faces. THE OUTER DIAMETER OF THE CYLINDER. [Illustration: Fig. 129] To define the remainder of the form of our escape-wheel tooth we will next delineate the heel. To do this we first define the outer diameter of our cylinder, which is the extent from the point _n_ to _c_, and after drawing the line _n c_ we halve the space and establish the point _x_, from which point as a center we sweep the circle _w w_, which defines the outer circumference of our cylinder. With our dividers set to embrace the extent from the point _n_ to the point _c_ we set one leg at the point _b_, and with the other leg establish on the arc _k_ the point _h_. We next draw the line _b h_, and from the point _b_ draw the line _b f_ at right angle to the line _b h_. Our object for drawing these lines is to define the heel of our escape-wheel tooth by a right angle line tangent to the circle _w_, from the point _b_; which circle _w_ represents the curve of the outer circumference of the cylinder. We shape the point of the tooth as shown to give it the proper stability, and draw the full line _j_ to a curve from the center _A_. We have now defined the form of the upper face of the tooth. How to delineate the U arms will be taken up later on, as, in the present case, the necessary lines would confuse our drawing. We would here take the opportunity to say that there is a great latitude taken by makers as regards the extent of angular impulse given to the cylinder, or, as it is termed, the "actual lift." This latitude governs to a great extent the angle _A b g_, which we gave as sixty-four degrees in our drawing. It is well to understand that the use of sixty-four degrees is based on no hard-and-fast rules, but varies back and forth, according as a greater or lesser angle of impulse or lift is employed. In practical workshop usage the impulse angle is probably more easily estimated by the ratio between the diameter of the cylinder and the measured (by lineal measure) height of the impulse plane. Or, to be more explicit, we measure the radial extent from the center _A_ between the arcs _a k_ on the line _A b_, and use this for comparison with the outer diameter of the cylinder. We can readily see that as we increase the height of the heel of the impulse face of our tooth we must also increase the angle of impulse imparted to the cylinder. With the advantages of accurate micrometer calipers now possessed by the horological student it is an easy matter to get at the angular extent of the real lift of any cylinder. The advantage of such measuring instruments is also made manifest in determining when the proper proportion of the cylinder is cut away for the half shell. [Illustration: Fig. 130] In the older methods of watchmaking it was a very common rule to say, let the height of the incline of the tooth be one-seventh of the outer diameter of the cylinder, and at the same time the trade was furnished with no tools except a clumsy douzieme gage; but with micrometer calipers which read to one-thousandths of an inch such rules can be definitely carried into effect and not left to guess work. Let us compare the old method with the new: Suppose we have a new cylinder to put in; we have the old escape wheel, but the former cylinder is gone. The old-style workman would take a round broach and calculate the size of the cylinder by finding a place where the broach would just go between the teeth, and the size of the broach at this point was supposed to be the outer diameter of the cylinder. By our method we measure the diameter of the escape wheel in thousandths of an inch, and from this size calculate exactly what the diameter of the new cylinder should be in thousandths of an inch. Suppose, to further carry out our comparison, the escape wheel which is in the watch has teeth which have been stoned off to permit the use of a cylinder which was too small inside, or, in fact, of a cylinder too small for the watch: in this case the broach system would only add to the trouble and give us a cylinder which would permit too much inside drop. DRAWING A CYLINDER. We have already instructed the pupil how to delineate a cylinder escape wheel tooth and we will next describe how to draw a cylinder. As already stated, the center of the cylinder is placed to coincide with the center of the chord of the arc which defines the impulse face of the tooth. Consequently, if we design a cylinder escape wheel tooth as previously described, and setting one leg of our compasses at the point _e_ which is situated at the center of the chord of the arc which defines the impulse face of the tooth and through the points _d_ and _b_ we define the inside of our cylinder. We next divide the chord _d b_ into eight parts and set our dividers to five of these parts, and from _e_ as a center sweep the circle _h_ and define the outside of our cylinder. From _A_ as a center we draw the radial line _A e'_. At right angles to the line _A e'_ and through the point _e_ we draw the line from _e_ as a center, and with our dividers set to the radius of any of the convenient arcs which we have divided into sixty degrees, we sweep the arc _i_. Where this arc intersects the line _f_ we term the point _k_, and from this point we lay off on the arc _i_ 220 degrees, and draw the line _l e l'_, which we see coincides with the chord of the impulse face of the tooth. We set our dividers to the same radius by which we sweep the arc _i_ and set one leg at the point _b_ for a center and sweep the arc _j'_. If we measure this arc from the point _j'_ to intersection of said arc _j'_ with the line _l_ we will find it to be sixty-four degrees, which accounts for our taking this number of degrees when we defined the face of our escape-wheel tooth, Fig. 129. There is no reason why we should take twenty-degrees for the angle _k e l_ except that the practical construction of the larger sizes of cylinder watches has established the fact that this is about the right angle to employ, while in smaller watches it frequently runs up as high as twenty-five. Although the cylinder is seemingly a very simple escapement, it is really a very abstruce one to follow out so as to become familiar with all of its actions. THE CYLINDER PROPER CONSIDERED. [Illustration: Fig. 131] We will now proceed and consider the cylinder proper, and to aid us in understanding the position and relation of the parts we refer to Fig. 131, where we repeat the circles _d_ and _h_, shown in Fig. 130, which represents the inside and outside of the cylinder. We have here also repeated the line _f_ of Fig. 130 as it cuts the cylinder in half, that is, divides it into two segments of 180 degrees each. If we conceive of a cylinder in which just one-half is cut away, that is, the lips are bounded by straight radial lines, we can also conceive of the relation and position of the parts shown in Fig. 130. The first position of which we should take cognizance is, the tooth _D_ is moved back to the left so as to rest on the outside of our cylinder. The cylinder is also supposed to stand so that the lips correspond to the line _f_. On pressing the tooth _D_ forward the incline of the tooth would attack the entrance lip of the cylinder at just about the center of the curved impulse face, imparting to the cylinder twenty degrees of angular motion, but the point of the tooth at _d_ would exactly encounter the inner angle of the exit lip, and of course the cylinder would afford no rest for the tooth; hence, we see the importance of not cutting away too much of the half shell of the cylinder. But before we further consider the action of the tooth _D_ in its action as it passes the exit lip of the cylinder we must finish with the action of the tooth on the entrance lip. A very little thought and study of Fig. 130 will convince us that the incline of the tooth as it enters the cylinder will commence at _t_, Fig. 130, but at the close of the action the tooth parts from the lip on the inner angle. Now it is evident that it would require greater force to propel the cylinder by its inner angle than by the outer one. To compensate for this we round the edge of the entrance lip so that the action of the tooth instead of commencing on the outer angle commences on the center of the edge of the entrance lip and also ends its action on the center of the entrance lip. To give angular extent enough to the shell of the cylinder to allow for rounding and also to afford a secure rest for the tooth inside the cylinder, we add six degrees to the angular extent of the entrance lip of the cylinder shell, as indicated on the arc _o'_, Fig. 131, three of these degrees being absorbed for rounding and three to insure a dead rest for the tooth when it enters the cylinder. WHY THE ANGULAR EXTENT IS INCREASED. Without rounding the exit lip the action of the tooth on its exit would be entirely on the inner angle of the shell. To obviate this it is the usual practice to increase the angular extent of the cylinder ten degrees, as shown on the arc _o'_ between the lines _f_ and _p_, Fig. 131. Why we should allow ten degrees on the exit lip and but six degrees on the entrance lip will be understood by observing Fig. 130, where the radial lines _s_ and _r_ show the extent of angular motion of the cylinder, which would be lost if the tooth commenced to act on the inner angle and ended on the outer angle of the exit lip. This arc is a little over six degrees, and if we add a trifle over three degrees for rounding we would account for the ten degrees between the lines _f_ and _p_, Fig. 131. It will now be seen that the angular extent is 196 degrees. If we draw the line _w_ we can see in what proportion the measurement should be made between the outer diameter of the cylinder and the measure of the half shell. It will be seen on measurement that the distance between the center _e_ and the line _w_ is about one-fifteenth part of the outer diameter of the cylinder and consequently with a cylinder which measures 45/1000 of an inch in diameter, now the half shell should measure half of the entire diameter of the cylinder plus one-fifteenth part of such diameter, or 25½ thousandths of an inch. After these proportions are understood and the drawing made, the eye will get accustomed to judging pretty near what is required; but much the safer plan is to measure, where we have the proper tools for doing so. Most workmen have an idea that the depth or distance at which the cylinder is set from the escape wheel is a matter of adjustment; while this is true to a certain extent, still there is really only one position for the center of the cylinder, and that is so that the center of the pivot hole coincides exactly with the center of the chord to the curve of the impulse face of the tooth or the point _e_, Fig. 130. Any adjustment or moving back and forth of the chariot to change the depth could only be demanded where there was some fault existing in the cylinder or where it had been moved out of its proper place by some genius as an experiment in cylinder depths. It will be evident on observing the drawing at Fig. 131 that when the cylinder is performing an arc of vibration, as soon as the entrance lip has passed the point indicated by the radial line _e x_ the point of the escape-wheel tooth will commence to act on the cylinder lip and continue to do so through an arc of forty degrees, or from the lines _x_ to _l_. MAKING A WORKING MODEL. To practically study the action of the cylinder escapement it is well to make a working model. It is not necessary that such a model should contain an entire escape wheel; all that is really required is two teeth cut out of brass of the proper forms and proportions and attached to the end of an arm 4-7/8" long with studs riveted to the U arms to support the teeth. This U arm is attached to the long arm we have just mentioned. A flat ring of heavy sheet brass is shaped to represent a short transverse section of a cylinder. This segment is mounted on a yoke which turns on pivots. In making such a model we can employ all the proportions and exact forms of the larger drawings made on a ten-inch radius. Such a model becomes of great service in learning the importance of properly shaping the lips of the cylinder. And right here we beg to call attention to the fact that in the ordinary repair shop the proper shape of cylinder lips is entirely neglected. PROPER SHAPE OF CYLINDER LIPS. The workman buys a cylinder and whether the proper amount is cut away from the half shell, or the lips, the correct form is entirely ignored, and still careful attention to the form of the cylinder lips adds full ten per cent. to the efficiency of the motive force as applied to the cylinder. In making study drawings of the cylinder escapement it is not necessary to employ paper so large that we can establish upon it the center of the arc which represents the periphery of our escape wheel, as we have at our disposal two plans by which this can be obviated. First, placing a bit of bristol board on our drawing-board in which we can set one leg of our dividers or compasses when we sweep the peripheral arc which we use in our delineations; second, making three arcs in brass or other sheet metal, viz.: the periphery of the escape wheel, the arc passing through the center of the chord of the arc of the impulse face of the tooth, and the arc passing through the point of the escape-wheel tooth. Of these plans we favor the one of sticking a bit of cardboard on the drawing board outside of the paper on which we are making our drawing. [Illustration: Fig. 132] At Fig. 132 we show the position and relation of the several parts just as the tooth passes into the shell of the cylinder, leaving the lip of the cylinder just as the tooth parted with it. The half shell of the cylinder as shown occupies 196 degrees or the larger arc embraced between the radial lines _k_ and _l_. In drawing the entrance lip the acting face is made almost identical with a radial line except to round the corners for about one-third the thickness of the cylinder shell. No portion, however, of the lip can be considered as a straight line, but might be described as a flattened curve. [Illustration: Fig. 133] A little study of what would be required to get the best results after making such a drawing will aid the pupil in arriving at the proper shape, especially when he remembers that the thickness of the cylinder shell of a twelve-line watch is only about five one-thousandths of an inch. But because the parts are small we should not shirk the problem of getting the most we possibly can out of a cylinder watch. The extent of arc between the radial lines _k f_, as shown in Fig. 132, is four degrees. Although in former drawings we showed the angular extent added as six degrees, as we show the lip _m_ in Fig. 132, two degrees are lost in rounding. The space _k f_ on the egress or exit side is intended to be about four degrees, which shows the extent of lock. We show at Fig. 133 the tooth _D_ just having passed out of the cylinder, having parted with the exit lip _p_. In making this drawing we proceed as with Fig. 132 by establishing a center for our radius of 10" outside of our drawing paper and drawing the line _A A_ to such center and sweeping the arcs _a b c_. We establish the point _e_, which represents the center of our cylinder, as before. We take the space to represent the radial extent of the outside of our cylinder in our dividers and from _e_ as a center sweep a fine pencil line, represented by the dotted line _t_ in our drawing; and where this circle intersects the arc _a_ we name it the point _s_; and it is at this point the heel of our escape-wheel tooth must part with the exit lip of the cylinder. From _e_ as a center and through the point _s_ we draw the line _e l''_. With our dividers set to the radius of any convenient arc which we have divided into degrees, we sweep the short arc _d'_. The intersection of this arc with the line _e l''_ we name the point _u_; and from _e_ as a center we draw the radial line _e u f'_. We place the letter _f''_ in connection with this line because it (the line) bears the same relations to the half shell of the cylinder shown in Fig. 133 that the line _f_ does to the half shell (_D_) shown in Fig. 132. We draw the line _f'' f'''_, Fig. 133, which divides the cylinder into two segments of 180 degrees each. We take the same space in our dividers with which we swept the interior of the cylinder in Fig. 132 and sweep the circle _v_, Fig. 133. From _e_ as a center we sweep the short arc _d''_, Fig. 133, and from its intersection of the line _f''_ we lay off six degrees on said arc _d''_ and draw the line _e' k''_, which defines the angular extent of our entrance lip to the half shell of the cylinder in Fig. 133. We draw the full lines of the cylinder as shown. We next delineate the heel of the tooth which has just passed out of the cylinder, as shown at _D'_, Fig. 133. We now have a drawing showing the position of the half shell of the cylinder just as the tooth has passed the exit lip. This drawing also represents the position of the half shell of the cylinder when the tooth rests against it on the outside. If we should make a drawing of an escape-wheel tooth shaped exactly as the one shown at Fig. 132 and the point of the tooth resting at _x_, we would show the position of a tooth encountering the cylinder after a tooth which has been engaged in the inside of the shell has passed out. By following the instructions now given, we can delineate a tooth in any of its relations with the cylinder shell. DELINEATING AN ESCAPE-WHEEL TOOTH WHILE IN ACTION. We will now go through the operation of delineating an escape-wheel tooth while in action. The position we shall assume is the one in which the cylinder and escape-wheel tooth are in the relation of the passage of half the impulse face of the tooth into the cylinder. To do this is simple enough: We first produce the arcs _a b c_, Fig. 133, as directed, and then proceed to delineate a tooth as in previous instances. To delineate our cylinder in the position we have assumed above, we take the space between the points _e d_ in our dividers and setting one leg at _d_ establish the point _g_, to represent the center of our cylinder. If we then sweep the circle _h_ from the center of _g_ we define the inner surface of the shell of our cylinder. Strictly speaking, we have not assumed the position we stated, that is, the impulse face of the tooth as passing half way into the cylinder. To comply strictly with our statement, we divide the chord of the impulse face of the tooth _A_ into eight equal spaces, as shown. Now as each of these spaces represent the thickness of the cylinder, if we take in our dividers four of these spaces and half of another, we have the radius of a circle passing the center of the cylinder shell. Consequently, if with this space in our dividers we set the leg at _d_, we establish on the arc _b_ the point _i_. We locate the center of our cylinder when one-half of an entering tooth has passed into the cylinder. If now from the new center with our dividers set at four of the spaces into which we have divided the line _e f_ we can sweep a circle representing the inner surface of the cylinder shell, and by setting our dividers to five of these spaces we can, from _i_ as a center, sweep an arc representing the outside of the cylinder shell. For all purposes of practical study the delineation we show at Fig. 133 is to be preferred, because, if we carry out all the details we have described, the lines would become confused. We set our dividers at five of the spaces on the line _e f_ and from _g_ as a center sweep the circle _j_, which delineates the outer surface of our cylinder shell. Let us now, as we directed in our former instructions, draw a flattened curve to represent the acting surface of the entrance lip of our cylinder as if it were in direct contact with the impulse face of the tooth. To delineate the exit lip we draw from the center _g_, Fig. 134, to the radial line _g k_, said line passing through the point of contact between the tooth and entrance lip of the cylinder. Let us next continue this line on the opposite side of the point _g_, as shown at _g k'_, and we thus bisect the cylinder shell into two equal parts of 180 degrees each. As we previously explained, the entire extent of the cylinder half shell is 196 degrees. We now set our dividers to the radius of any convenient arc which we have divided into degrees, and from _g_ as a center sweep the short arc _l l_, and from the intersection of this arc with the line _g k'_ we lay off sixteen degrees on the said arc _l_ and establish the point _n_, from _g_ as a center draw the radial line _g n'_. Take ten degrees from the same parent arc and establish the point _m_, then draw the line _g m'_. Now the arc on the circles _h j_ between the lines _g n'_ and _g m_ limits the extent of the exit lip of the cylinder and the arc between the lines _g k'_ and _g m'_ represents the locking surface of the cylinder shell. [Illustration: Fig. 134] To delineate the U arms we refer to Fig. 135. Here, again, we draw the arc _a b c_ and delineate a tooth as before. From the point _e_ located at the heel of the tooth we draw the radial line _e e'_. From the point _e_ we lay off on the arc _a_ five degrees and establish the point _p_; we halve this space and draw the short radial line _p' s'_ and _p s_. From the point _e_ on the arc _A_ we lay off twenty-four degrees and establish the point _t_, which locates the heel of the next tooth in advance of _A_. At two and a half degrees to the right of the point _t_ we locate the point _r_ and draw the short radial line _r s_. On the arc _b_ and half way between the lines _p s_ and _r s_, we establish the point _u_, and from it as a center we sweep the arc _v_ defining the curve of the U arms. We have now given minute instructions for drawing a cylinder escapement in all its details except the extent of the banking slot of the cylinder, which is usually made to embrace an angular extent of 270 degrees; consequently, the pillar of the cylinder will not measure more than ninety degrees of angular extent. There is no escapement constructed where carefully-made drawings tend more to perfect knowledge of the action than the cylinder. But it is necessary with the pupil to institute a careful analysis of the actions involved. In writing on a subject of this kind it is extremely perplexing to know when to stop; not that there is so much danger of saying too much as there is not having the words read with attention. As an illustration, let us consider the subject of depth between the cylinder and the escape wheel. As previously stated, 196 degrees of cylinder shell should be employed; but suppose we find a watch in which the half shell has had too much cut away, so the tooth on entering the half shell after parting with the entrance lip does not strike dead on the inside of the shell, but encounters the edge of the exit lip. In this case the impulse of the balance would cause the tooth to slightly retrograde and the watch would go but would lack a good motion. In such an instance a very slight advance of the chariot would remedy the fault--not perfectly remedy it, but patch up, so to speak--and the watch would run. [Illustration: Fig. 135] In this day, fine cylinder watches are not made, and only the common kind are met with, and for this reason the student should familiarize himself with all the imaginary faults which could occur from bad construction. The best way to do this is to delineate what he (the student) knows to be a faulty escapement, as, for instance, a cylinder in which too much of the half shell is cut away; but in every instance let the tooth be of the correct form. Then delineate an escapement in which the cylinder is correct but the teeth faulty; also change the thickness of the cylinder shell, so as to make the teeth too short. This sort of practice makes the pupil think and study and he will acquire a knowledge which will never be forgotten, but always be present to aid him in the puzzles to which the practical watchmaker is every day subject. The ability to solve these perplexing problems determines in a great degree the worth of a man to his employer, in addition to establishing his reputation as a skilled workman. The question is frequently asked, "How can I profitably employ myself in spare time?" It would seem that a watchmaker could do no better than to carefully study matters horological, striving constantly to attain a greater degree of perfection, for by so doing his earning capacity will undoubtedly be increased. CHAPTER III. THE CHRONOMETER ESCAPEMENT. Undoubtedly "the detent," or, as it is usually termed, "the chronometer escapement," is the most perfect of any of our portable time measurers. Although the marine chronometer is in a sense a portable timepiece, still it is not, like a pocket watch, capable of being adjusted to positions. As we are all aware, the detent escapement is used in fine pocket watches, still the general feeling of manufacturers is not favorable to it. Much of this feeling no doubt is owing to the mechanical difficulties presented in repairing the chronometer escapements when the detent is broken, and the fact that the spring detent could not be adjusted to position. We shall have occasion to speak of position adjustments as relate to the chronometer escapement later on. ADVANTAGES OF THE CHRONOMETER. We will proceed now to consider briefly the advantages the detent escapement has over all others. It was soon discovered in constructing portable timepieces, that to obtain the best results the vibrations of the balance should be as free as possible from any control or influence except at such times as it received the necessary impulse to maintain the vibrations at a constant arc. This want undoubtedly led to the invention of the detent escapement. The early escapements were all frictional escapements, i.e., the balance staff was never free from the influence of the train. The verge escapement, which was undoubtedly the first employed, was constantly in contact with the escape wheel, and was what is known as a "recoiling beat," that is, the contact of the pallets actually caused the escape wheel to recoil or turn back. Such escapements were too much influenced by the train, and any increase in power caused the timepiece to gain. The first attempt to correct this imperfection led to the invention and introduction of the fusee, which enabled the watchmaker to obtain from a coiled spring nearly equal power during the entire period of action. The next step in advance was the "dead-beat escapement," which included the cylinder and duplex. In these frictional escapements the balance staff locked the train while the balance performed its arc of vibration. FRICTIONAL ESCAPEMENTS IN HIGH FAVOR. These frictional escapements held favor with many eminent watchmakers even after the introduction of the detached escapements. It is no more than natural we should inquire, why? The idea with the advocates of the frictional rest escapements was, the friction of the tooth acted as a _corrective_, and led no doubt to the introduction of going-barrel watches. To illustrate, suppose in a cylinder watch we increase the motive power, such increase of power would not, as in the verge escapement, increase the rapidity of the vibrations; it might, in fact, cause the timepiece to run slower from the increased friction of the escape-wheel tooth on the cylinder; also, in the duplex escapement the friction of the locking tooth on the staff retards the vibrations. Dr. Hooke, the inventor of the balance spring, soon discovered it could be manipulated to isochronism, i.e., so arcs of different extent would be formed in equal time. Of course, the friction-rest escapement requiring a spring to possess different properties from one which would be isochronal with a perfectly detached escapement, these two frictional escapements also differing, the duplex requiring other properties from what would isochronize a spring for a cylinder escapement. Although pocket watches with duplex and cylinder escapements having balances compensated for heat and cold and balance springs adjusted to isochronism gave very good results, careful makers were satisfied that an escapement in which the balance was detached and free to act during the greater proportion of the arc of vibration and uncontrolled by any cause, would do still better, and this led to the detent escapement. FAULTS IN THE DETENT ESCAPEMENT. As stated previously, the detent escapement having pronounced faults in positions which held it back, it is probable it would never have been employed in pocket watches to any extent if it had not acquired such a high reputation in marine chronometers. Let us now analyze the influences which surround the detent escapement in a marine chronometer and take account of the causes which are combined to make it an accurate time measurer, and also take cognizance of other interfering causes which have a tendency to prevent desired results. First, we will imagine a balance with its spring such as we find in fine marine chronometers. It has small pivots running in highly-polished jewels; such pivots are perfectly cylindrical, and no larger than are absolutely necessary to endure the task imposed upon them--of carrying the weight of the balance and endure careful handling. To afford the necessary vibrations a spring is fitted, usually of a helical form, so disposed as to cause the balance to vibrate in arcs back and forth in equal time, _provided these arcs are of equal extent_. It is now to be taken note of that we have it at our disposal and option to make these arcs equal in time duration, i.e., to make the long or short arcs the quickest or to synchronize them. We can readily comprehend we have now established a very perfect measure of short intervals of time. We can also see if we provide the means of maintaining these vibrations and counting them we should possess the means of counting the flights of time with great accuracy. The conditions which surround our balance are very constant, the small pivots turning in fine hard jewels lubricated with an oil on which exposure to the action of the air has little effect, leaves but few influences which can interfere with the regular action of our balance. We add to the influences an adjustable correction for the disturbances of heat and cold, and we are convinced that but little could be added. ANTAGONISTIC INFLUENCES. In this combination we have pitted two antagonistic forces against each other, viz., the elasticity of the spring and the weight and inertia of the balance; both forces are theoretically constant and should produce constant results. The mechanical part of the problem is simply to afford these two forces perfect facilities to act on each other and compel each to realize its full effect. We must also devise mechanical means to record the duration of each conflict, that is, the time length of each vibration. Many years have been spent in experimenting to arrive at the best propositions to employ for the several parts to obtain the best practical results. Consequently, in designing a chronometer escapement we must not only draw the parts to a certain form, but consider the quality and weight of material to employ. To illustrate what we have just said, suppose, in drawing an escape wheel, we must not only delineate the proper angle for the acting face of the tooth, but must also take cognizance of the thickness of the tooth. By thickness we mean the measurement of extent of the tooth in the direction of the axis of the escape wheel. An escape-wheel tooth might be of the best form to act in conveying power to the balance and yet by being too thin soon wear or produce excessive friction. How thick an escape wheel should be to produce best results, is one of the many matters settled only by actual workshop experience. FACTORS THAT MUST BE CONSIDERED. Even this experience is in every instance modified by other influences. To illustrate: Let us suppose in the ordinary to-day marine chronometer the escape-wheel teeth exerted a given average force, which we set down as so many grains. Now, if we should employ other material than hammer-hardened brass for an escape wheel it would modify the thickness; also, if we should decrease the motive power and increase the arc of impulse. Or, if we should diminish the extent of the impulse arc and add to the motive force, every change would have a controlling influence. In the designs we shall employ, it is our purpose to follow such proportions as have been adopted by our best makers, in all respects, including form, size and material. We would say, however, there has been but little deviation with our principal manufacturers of marine chronometers for the last twenty years as regards the general principle on which they were constructed, the chief aim being to excel in the perfection of the several parts and the care taken in the several adjustments. Before we proceed to take up the details of constructing a chronometer escapement we had better master the names for the several parts. We show at Fig. 136 a complete plan of a chronometer escapement as if seen from the back, which is in reality the front or dial side of the "top plate." The chronometer escapement consists of four chief or principal parts, viz.: The escape wheel, a portion of which is shown at _A_; the impulse roller _B_; unlocking or discharging roller _C_, and the detent _D_. These principal parts are made up of sub-parts: thus, the escape wheel is composed of arms, teeth, recess and collet, the recess being the portion of the escape wheel sunk, to enable us to get wide teeth actions on the impulse pallet. The collet is a brass bush on which the wheel is set to afford better support to the escape wheel than could be obtained by the thinned wheel if driven directly on the pinion arbor. The impulse roller is composed of a cylindrical steel collet _B_, the impulse pallet _d_ (some call it the impulse stone), the safety recess _b b_. The diameter of the impulse collet is usually one-half that of the escape wheel. This impulse roller is staked directly on the balance staff, and its perfection of position assured by resting against the foot of the shoulder to which the balance is secured. This will be understood by inspecting Fig. 137, which is a vertical longitudinal section of a chronometer balance staff, the lower side of the impulse roller being cupped out at _c_ with a ball grinder and finished a ball polish. [Illustration: Fig. 136] [Illustration: Fig. 137] It will be seen the impulse roller is staked flat against the hub _E_ of the balance staff. The unlocking roller, or, as it is also called, the discharging roller, _C_, is usually thinner than the impulse roller and has a jewel similar to the impulse jewel _a_ shown at _f_. This roller is fitted by friction to the lower part of the balance staff and for additional security has a pipe or short socket _e_ which embraces the balance staff at _g_. The pipe _e_ is usually flattened on opposite sides to admit of employing a special wrench for turning the discharging roller in adjusting the jewel for opening the escapement at the proper instant to permit the escape wheel to act on the impulse jewel _a_. The parts which go to make up the detent _D_ consist of the "detent foot" _F_, the detent spring _h_, the detent blade _i_, the jewel pipe _j_, the locking jewel (or stone) _s_, the "horn" of the detent _k_, the "gold spring" (also called the auxiliary and lifting spring) _m_. This lifting or gold spring _m_ should be made as light and thin as possible and stand careful handling. We cannot impress on our readers too much the importance of making a chronometer detent light. Very few detents, even from the hands of our best makers, are as light as they might be. We should in such construction have very little care for clumsy workmen who may have to repair such mechanism. This feature should not enter into consideration. We should only be influenced by the feeling that we are working for best results, and it is acting under this influence that we devote so much time to establishing a correct idea of the underlying principles involved in a marine chronometer, instead of proceeding directly to the drawing of such an escapement and give empirical rules for the length of this or the diameter of that. As, for instance, in finishing the detent spring _h_, suppose we read in text books the spring should be reduced in thickness, so that a weight of one pennyweight suspended from the pipe _j_ will deflect the detent ¼". This is a rule well enough for people employed in a chronometer factory, but for the horological student such fixed rules (even if remembered) would be of small use. What the student requires is sound knowledge of the "whys," in order that he may be able to thoroughly master this escapement. FUNCTIONS OF THE DETENT. We can see, after a brief analysis of the principles involved, that the functions required of the detent _D_ are to lock the escape wheel _A_ and hold it while the balance performs its excursion, and that the detent or recovering spring _h_ must have sufficient strength and power to perform two functions: (1) Return the locking stone _s_ back to the proper position to arrest and hold the escape wheel; (2) the spring _h_ must also be able to resist, without buckling or cockling, the thrust of the escape wheel, represented by the arrows _p o_. Now we can readily understand that the lighter we make the parts _i j k m_, the weaker the spring _h_ can be. You say, perhaps, if we make it too weak it will be liable to buckle under the pressure of the escape wheel; this, in turn, will depend in a great measure on the condition of the spring _h_. Suppose we have it straight when we put it in position, it will then have no stress to keep it pressed to the holding, stop or banking screw, which regulates the lock of the tooth. To obtain this stress we set the foot _F_ of the detent around to the position indicated by the dotted lines _r_ and _n_, and we get the proper tension on the detent spring to effect the lock, or rather of the detent in time to lock the escape wheel; but the spring _h_, instead of being perfectly straight, is bent and consequently not in a condition to stand the thrust of the escape wheel, indicated by the arrows _o p_. OBTAINING THE BEST CONDITIONS. Now the true way to obtain the best conditions is to give the spring _h_ a set curvature before we put it in place, and then when the detent is in the proper position the spring _h_ will have tension enough on it to bring the jewel _s_ against the stop screw, which regulates the lock, and still be perfectly straight. This matter is of so much importance that we will give further explanation. Suppose we bend the detent spring _h_ so it is curved to the dotted line _t_, Fig. 136, and then the foot _F_ would assume the position indicated at the dotted line _r_. We next imagine the foot _F_ to be put in the position shown by the full lines, the spring _h_ will become straight again and in perfect shape to resist the thrust of the escape wheel. Little "ways and methods" like the above have long been known to the trade, but for some reason are never mentioned in our text books. A detent spring 2/1000" thick and 80/1000" wide will stand the thrust for any well-constructed marine chronometer in existence, and yet it will not require half a pennyweight to deflect it one-fourth of an inch. It is a good rule to make the length of the detent from the foot _F_ to the center of the locking jewel pipe _j_ equal to the diameter of the escape wheel, and the length of the detent spring _h_ two-sevenths of this distance. The length of the horn _k_ is determined by the graphic plan and can be taken from the plotted plan. The end, however, should approach as near to the discharging jewel as possible and not absolutely touch. The discharging (gold) spring _m_ is attached to the blade _i_ of the detent with a small screw _l_ cut in a No. 18 hole of a Swiss plate. While there should be a slight increase in thickness in the detent blade at _w_, where the gold spring is attached, still it should be no more than to separate the gold spring _m_ from the detent blade _i_. IMPORTANT CONSIDERATIONS. It is important the spring should be absolutely free and not touch the detent except at its point of attachment at _w_ and to rest against the end of the horn _k_, and the extreme end of _k_, where the gold spring rests, should only be what we may term a dull or thick edge. The end of the horn _k_ (shown at _y_) is best made, for convenience of elegant construction, square--that is, the part _y_ turns at right angles to _k_ and is made thicker than _k_ and at the same time deeper; or, to make a comparison to a clumsy article, _y_ is like the head of a nail, which is all on one side. Some makers bend the horn _k_ to a curve and allow the end of the horn to arrest or stop the gold spring; but as it is important the entire detent should be as light as possible, the square end best answers this purpose. The banking placed at _j_ should arrest the detent as thrown back by the spring _h_ at the "point of percussion." This point of percussion is a certain point in a moving mass where the greatest effort is produced and would be somewhere near the point _x_, in a bar _G_ turning on a pivot at _z_, Fig. 138. It will be evident, on inspection of this figure, if the bar _G_ was turning on the center _z_ it would not give the hardest impact at the end _v_, as parts of its force would be expended at the center _z_. [Illustration: Fig. 138] DECISIONS ARRIVED AT BY EXPERIENCE. Experience has decided that the impulse roller should be about half the diameter of the escape wheel, and experience has also decided that an escape wheel of fifteen teeth has the greatest number of advantages; also, that the balance should make 14,400 vibrations in one hour. We will accept these proportions and conditions as best, from the fact that they are now almost universally adopted by our best chronometer makers. Although it would seem as if these proportions should have established themselves earlier among practical men, we shall in these drawings confine ourselves to the graphic plan, considering it preferable. In the practical detail drawing we advise the employment of the scale given, i.e., delineating an escape wheel 10" in diameter. The drawings which accompany the description are one-fourth of this size, for the sake of convenience in copying. With an escape wheel of fifteen teeth the impulse arc is exactly twenty-four degrees, and of course the periphery of the impulse roller must intersect the periphery of the escape wheel for this arc (24°). The circles _A B_, Fig. 139, represent the peripheries of these two mobiles, and the problem in hand is to locate and define the position of the two centers _a c_. These, of course, are not separated, the sum of the two radii, i.e., 5" + 2½" (in the large drawing), as these circles intersect, as shown at _d_. Arithmetically considered, the problem is quite difficult, but graphically, simple enough. After we have swept the circle _A_ with a radius of 5", we draw the radial line _a f_, said line extending beyond the circle _A_. LOCATING THE CENTER OF THE BALANCE STAFF. Somewhere on this line is located the center of the balance staff, and it is the problem in hand to locate or establish this center. Now, it is known the circles which define the peripheries of the escape wheel and the impulse roller intersect at _e e^2_. We can establish on our circle _A_ where these intersections take place by laying off twelve degrees, one-half of the impulse arc on each side of the line of centers _a f_ on this circle and establishing the points _e e^2_. These points _e e^2_ being located at the intersection of the circles _A_ and _B_, must be at the respective distances of 5" and 2½" distance from the center of the circles _A B_; consequently, if we set our dividers at 2½" and place one leg at _e_ and sweep the short arc _g^2_, and repeat this process when one leg of the dividers is set at _e^2_, the intersection of the short arcs _g_ and _g^2_ will locate the center of our balance staff. We have now our two centers established, whose peripheries are in the relation of 2 to 1. To know, in the chronometer which we are supposed to be constructing, the exact distance apart at which to plant the hole jewels for our two mobiles, i.e., escape wheel and balance staff, we measure carefully on our drawing the distance from _a_ to _c_ (the latter we having just established) and make our statement in the rule of three, as follows: As (10) the diameter of drawn escape wheel is to our real escape wheel so is the measured distance on our drawing to the real distance in the chronometer we are constructing. It is well to use great care in the large drawing to obtain great accuracy, and make said large drawing on a sheet of metal. This course is justified by the degree of perfection to which measuring tools have arrived in this day. It will be found on measurement of the arc of the circle _B_, embraced between the intersections _e e^2_, that it is about forty-eight degrees. How much of this we can utilize in our escapement will depend very much on the perfection and accuracy of construction. [Illustration: Fig. 139] We show at Fig. 140 three teeth of an escape wheel, together with the locking jewel _E_ and impulse jewel _D_. Now, while theoretically we could commence the impulse as soon as the impulse jewel _D_ was inside of the circle representing the periphery of the escape wheel, still, in practical construction, we must allow for contingencies. Before it is safe for the escape wheel to attack the impulse jewel, said jewel must be safely inside of said escape wheel periphery, in order that the attacking tooth shall act with certainty and its full effect. A good deal of thought and study can be bestowed to great advantage on the "action" of a chronometer escapement. Let us examine the conditions involved. We show in Fig. 140 the impulse jewel _D_ just passing inside the circle of the periphery of the escape wheel. Now the attendant conditions are these: The escape wheel is locked fast and perfectly dead, and in the effort of unlocking it has to first turn backward against the effort of the mainspring; the power of force required for this effort is derived from the balance in which is stored up, so to speak, power from impulses imparted to the balance by former efforts of the escape wheel. In actual fact, the balance at the time the unlocking takes place is moving with nearly its greatest peripheral velocity and, as stated above, the escape wheel is at rest. Here comes a very delicate problem as regards setting the unlocking or discharging jewel. Let us first suppose we set the discharging jewel so the locking jewel frees its tooth at the exact instant the impulse jewel is inside the periphery of the escape wheel. As just stated, the escape wheel is not only dead but actually moving back at the time the release takes place. Now, it is evident that the escape wheel requires an appreciable time to move forward and attack the impulse jewel, and during this appreciable time the impulse jewel has been moving forward inside of the arc _A A_, which represents the periphery of the escape wheel. The proper consideration of this problem is of more importance in chronometer making than we might at first thought have imagined, consequently, we shall dwell upon it at some length. HOW TO SET THE DISCHARGING JEWEL. [Illustration: Fig. 140] Theoretically, the escape-wheel tooth should encounter the impulse jewel at the time--instant--both are moving with the same velocity. It is evident then that there can be no special rule given for this, i.e., how to set the discharging jewel so it will free the tooth at exactly the proper instant, from the fact that one chronometer train may be much slower in getting to move forward from said train being heavy and clumsy in construction. Let us make an experiment with a real chronometer in illustration of our problem. To do so we remove our balance spring and place the balance in position. If we start the balance revolving in the direction of the arrow _y_, Fig. 140, it will cause the escapement to be unlocked and the balance to turn rapidly in one direction and with increasing velocity until, in fact, the escape wheel has but very little effect on the impulse jewel; in fact, we could, by applying some outside source of power--like blowing with a blow pipe on the balance--cause the impulse jewel to pass in advance of the escape wheel; that is, the escape-wheel tooth would not be able to catch the impulse jewel during the entire impulse arc. Let us suppose, now, we set our unlocking or discharging jewel in advance, that is, so the escapement is really unlocked a little before the setting parts are in the positions and relations shown in Fig. 141. Under the new conditions the escape wheel would commence to move and get sufficient velocity on it to act on the impulse jewel as soon as it was inside of the periphery of the escape wheel. If the balance was turned slowly now the tooth of the escape wheel would not encounter the impulse jewel at all, but fall into the passing hollow _n_; but if we give the balance a high velocity, the tooth would again encounter and act upon the jewel in the proper manner. Experienced adjusters of chronometers can tell by listening if the escape-wheel tooth attacks the impulse jewel properly, i.e., when both are moving with similar velocities. The true sound indicating correct action is only given when the balance has its maximum arc of vibration, which should be about 1¼ revolutions, or perform an arc of 225 degrees on each excursion. Fig. 142 is a side view of Fig. 141 seen in the direction of the arrow _y_. We have mentioned a chariot to which the detent is attached, but we shall make no attempt to show it in the accompanying drawings, as it really has no relation to the problem in hand; i.e., explaining the action of the chronometer escapement, as the chariot relates entirely to the convenience of setting and adjusting the relation of the second parts. The size, or better, say, the inside diameter of the pipe at _C_, Fig. 143, which holds the locking jewel, should be about one-third of a tooth space, and the jewel made to fit perfectly. Usually, jewelmakers have a tendency to make this jewel too frail, cutting away the jewel back of the releasing angle (_n_, Fig. 143) too much. A GOOD FORM OF LOCKING STONE. A very practical form for a locking stone is shown in transverse section at Fig. 143. In construction it is a piece of ruby, or, better, sapphire cut to coincide to its axis of crystallization, into first a solid cylinder nicely fitting the pipe _C_ and finished with an after-grinding, cutting away four-tenths of the cylinder, as shown at _I_, Fig. 143. Here the line _m_ represents the locking face of the jewel and the line _o_ the clearance to free the escaping tooth, the angle at _n_ being about fifty-four degrees. This angle (_n_) should leave the rounding of the stone intact, that is, the rounding of the angle should be left and not made after the flat faces _m o_ are ground and polished. The circular space at _I_ is filled with an aluminum pin. The sizes shown are of about the right relative proportions; but we feel it well to repeat the statement made previously, to the effect that the detent to a chronometer cannot well be made too light. [Illustration: Fig. 141] [Illustration: Fig. 142] [Illustration: Fig. 143] The so-called gold spring shown at _H_, Figs. 141 and 142, should also be as light as is consistent with due strength and can be made of the composite metal used for gold filled goods, as the only real benefit to be derived from employing gold is to avoid the necessity of applying oil to any part of the escapement. If such gold metal is employed, after hammering to obtain the greatest possible elasticity to the spring, the gold is filed away, except where the spring is acted upon by the discharging jewel _h_. We have previously mentioned the importance of avoiding wide, flat contacts between all acting surfaces, like where the gold spring rests on the horn of the detent at _p_; also where the detent banks on the banking screw, shown at _G_, Fig. 142. Under this principle the impact of the face of the discharging jewel with the end of the gold spring should be confined to as small a surface as is consistent with what will not produce abrasive action. The gold spring is shaped as shown at Fig. 142 and loses, in a measure, under the pipe of the locking jewel, a little more than one-half of the pipe below the blade of the detent being cut away, as shown in Fig. 143, where the lines _r r_ show the extent of the part of the pipe which banks against the banking screw _G_. In this place even, only the curved surface of the outside of the pipe touches the screw _G_, again avoiding contact of broad surfaces. We show the gold spring separate at Fig. 144. A slight torsion or twist is given to the gold spring to cause it to bend with a true curvature in the act of allowing the discharging pallet to pass back after unlocking. If the gold spring is filed and stoned to the right flexure, that is, the thinnest point properly placed or, say, located, the gold spring will not continue in contact with the discharging pallet any longer time or through a greater arc than during the process of unlocking. To make this statement better understood, let us suppose the weakest part of the gold spring _H_ is opposite the arrow _y_, Fig. 141, it will readily be understood the contact of the discharging stone _h_ would continue longer than if the point of greatest (or easiest) flexure was nearer to the pipe _C_. If the end _D^2_ of the horn of the detent is as near as it should be to the discharging stone there need be no fear but the escapement will be unlocked. The horn _D^2_ of the detent should be bent until five degrees of angular motion of the balance will unlock the escape, and the contact of discharging jewel _h_ should be made without engaging friction. This condition can be determined by observing if the jewel seems to slide up (toward the pipe _C_) on the gold spring after contact. Some adjusters set the jewel _J_, Figs. 143 and 141, in such a way that the tooth rests close to the base; such adjusters claiming this course has a tendency to avoid cockling or buckling of the detent spring _E_. Such adjusters also set the impulse jewel slightly oblique, so as to lean on the opposite angle of the tooth. Our advice is to set both stones in places corresponding to the axis of the balance staff, and the escape-wheel mobiles. THE DETENT SPRING. [Illustration: Fig. 144] It will be noticed we have made the detent spring _E_ pretty wide and extended it well above the blade of the detent. By shaping the detent in this way nearly all the tendency of the spring _E_ to cockle is annulled. We would beg to add to what we said in regard to setting jewels obliquely. We are unable to understand the advantage of wide-faced stones and deep teeth when we do not take advantage of the wide surfaces which we assert are important. We guarantee that with a detent and spring made as we show, there will be no tendency to cockle, or if there is, it will be too feeble to even display itself. Those who have had extended experience with chronometers cannot fail to have noticed a gummy secretion which accumulates on the impulse and discharging stones of a chronometer, although no oil is ever applied to them. We imagine this coating is derived from the oil applied to the pivots, which certainly evaporates, passes into vapor, or the remaining oil could not become gummy. We would advise, when setting jewels (we mean the locking, impulse and discharging jewels), to employ no more shellac than is absolutely necessary, depending chiefly on metallic contact for security. DETAILS OF CONSTRUCTION. We will now say a few words about the number of beats to the hour for a box or marine chronometer to make to give the best results. Experience shows that slow but most perfect construction has settled that 14,400, or four vibrations of the balance to a second, as the proper number, the weight of balance, including balance proper and movable weights, to be about 5½ pennyweights, and the compensating curb about 1-2/10" in diameter. The escape wheel, 55/100" in diameter and recessed so as to be as light as possible, should have sufficient strength to perform its functions properly. The thickness or, more properly, the face extent of the tooth, measured in the direction of the axis of the escape wheel, should be about 1/20". The recessing should extend half way up the radial back of the tooth at _t_. The curvature of the back of the teeth is produced with the same radii as the impulse roller. To locate the center from which the arc which defines the back of the teeth is swept, we halve the space between the teeth _A^2_ and _a^4_ and establish the point _n_, Fig. 141, and with our dividers set to sweep the circle representing the impulse roller, we sweep an arc passing the point of the tooth _A^3_ and _u_, thus locating the center _w_. From the center _k_ of the escape wheel we sweep a complete circle, a portion of which is represented by the arc _w v_. For delineating other teeth we set one leg of our dividers to agree with the point of the tooth and the other leg on the circle _w v_ and produce an arc like _z u_. ORIGINAL DESIGNING OF THE ESCAPEMENT. On delineating our chronometer escapement shown at Fig. 141 we have followed no text-book authority, but have drawn it according to such requirements as are essential to obtain the best results. An escapement of any kind is only a machine, and merely requires in its construction a combination of sound mechanical principles. Neither Saunier nor Britten, in their works, give instructions for drawing this escapement which will bear close analysis. It is not our intention, however, to criticise these authors, except we can present better methods and give correct systems. TANGENTIAL LOCKINGS. It has been a matter of great contention with makers of chronometer and also lever escapements as to the advantages of "tangential lockings." By this term is meant a locking the same as is shown at _C_, Fig. 141, and means a detent planted at right angles to a line radial to the escape-wheel axis, said radial line passing through the point of the escape-wheel tooth resting on the locking jewel. In escapements not set tangential, the detent is pushed forward in the direction of the arrow _x_ about half a tooth space. Britten, in his "Hand-Book," gives a drawing of such an escapement. We claim the chief advantage of tangential locking to lie in the action of the escape-wheel teeth, both on the impulse stone and also on the locking stone of the detent. Saunier, in his "Modern Horology," gives the inclination of the front fan of the escape-wheel teeth as being at an angle of twenty-seven degrees to a radial line. Britten says twenty degrees, and also employs a non-tangential locking. Our drawing is on an angle of twenty-eight degrees, which is as low as is safe, as we shall proceed to demonstrate. For establishing the angle of an escape-wheel tooth we draw the line _C d_, from the point of the escape-wheel tooth resting on the locking stone shown at _C_ at an angle of twenty-eight degrees to radial line _C k_. We have already discussed how to locate and plant the center of the balance staff. We shall not show in this drawing the angular motion of the escape wheel, but delineate at the radial lines _c e_ and _c f_ of the arc of the balance during the extent of its implication with the periphery of the escape wheel, which arc is one of about forty-eight degrees. Of this angle but forty-three degrees is attempted to be utilized for the purpose of impulse, five degrees being allowed for the impulse jewel to pass inside of the arc of periphery of the escape wheel before the locking jewel releases the tooth of the escape wheel resting upon it. At this point it is supposed the escape wheel attacks the impulse jewel, because, as we just explained, the locking jewel has released the tooth engaging it. Now, if the train had no weight, no inertia to overcome, the escape wheel tooth _A^2_ would move forward and attack the impulse pallet instantly; but, in fact, as we have already explained, there will be an appreciable time elapse before the tooth overtakes the rapidly-moving impulse jewel. It will, of course, be understood that the reference letters used herein refer to the illustrations that have appeared on preceding pages. If we reason carefully on the matter, we will readily comprehend that we can move the locking jewel, i.e., set it so the unlocking will take place in reality before the impulse jewel has passed through the entire five degrees of arc embraced between the radial lines _c e_ and _c g_, Fig. 141, and yet have the tooth attack the jewel after the five degrees of arc. In practice it is safe to set the discharging jewel _h_ so the release of the held tooth _A^1_ will take place as soon as the tooth _A^2_ is inside the principal line of the escape wheel. As we previously explained, the contact between _A^2_ and the impulse jewel _i_ would not in reality occur until the said jewel _i_ had fully passed through the arc (five degrees) embraced between the radial lines _c e_ and _c g_. At this point we will explain why we drew the front fan of the escape-wheel teeth at the angle of twenty-eight degrees. If the fan of impulse jewel _i_ is set radial to the axis of the balance, the engagement of the tooth _A^2_ would be at a disadvantage if it took place prior to this jewel passing through an arc of five degrees inside the periphery of the escape wheel. It will be evident on thought that if an escape-wheel tooth engaged the impulse stone before the five-degrees angle had passed, the contact would not be on its flat face, but the tooth would strike the impulse jewel on its outer angle. A continued inspection will also reveal the fact that in order to have the point of the tooth engage the flat surface of the impulse pallet the impulse jewel must coincide with the radial line _c g_. If we seek to remedy this condition by setting the impulse jewel so the face is not radial, but inclined backward, we encounter a bad engaging friction, because, during the first part of the impulse action, the tooth has to slide up the face of the impulse jewel. All things considered, the best action is obtained with the impulse jewel set so the acting face is radial to the balance staff and the engagement takes place between the tooth and the impulse jewel when both are moving with equal velocities, i.e., when the balance is performing with an arc (or motion) of 1¼ revolutions or 225 degrees each way from a point of rest. Under such conditions the actual contact will not take place before some little time after the impulse jewel has passed the five-degree arc between the lines _c e_ and _c g_. THE DROP AND DRAW CONSIDERED. Exactly how much drop must be allowed from the time the tooth leaves the impulse jewel before the locking tooth engages the locking jewel will depend in a great measure on the perfection of workmanship, but should in no instance be more than what is absolutely required to make the escapement safe. The amount of draw given to the locking stone _c_ is usually about twelve degrees to the radial line _k a_. Much of the perfection of the chronometer escapement will always depend on the skill of the escapement adjuster and not on the mechanical perfection of the parts. The jewels all have to be set by hand after they are made, and the distance to which the impulse jewel protrudes beyond the periphery of the impulse roller is entirely a matter for hand and eye, but should never exceed 2/1000". After the locking jewel _c_ is set, we can set the foot _F_ of the detent _D_ forward or back, to perfect and correct the engagement of the escape-wheel teeth with the impulse roller _B_. If we set this too far forward, the tooth _A^3_ will encounter the roller while the tooth _A^2_ will be free. We would beg to say here there is no escape wheel made which requires the same extreme accuracy as the chronometer, as the tooth spaces and the equal radial extent of each tooth should be only limited by our powers toward perfection. It is usual to give the detent a locking of about two degrees; that is, it requires about two degrees to open it, counting the center of fluxion of the detent spring _E_ and five degrees of balance arc. FITTING UP OF THE FOOT. Several attempts have been made by chronometer makers to have the foot _F_ adjustable; that is, so it could be moved back and forth with a screw, but we have never known of anything satisfactory being accomplished in this direction. About the best way of fitting up the foot _F_ seems to be to provide it with two soft iron steady pins (shown at _j_) with corresponding holes in the chariot, said holes being conically enlarged so they (the pins) can be bent and manipulated so the detent not only stands in the proper position as regards the escape wheel, but also to give the detent spring _E_ the proper elastic force to return in time to afford a secure locking to the arresting tooth of the escape wheel after an impulse has been given. If these pins _j_ are bent properly by the adjuster, whoever afterwards cleans the chronometer needs only to gently push the foot _F_ forward so as to cause the pins _j_ to take the correct positions as determined by the adjuster and set the screw _l_ up to hold the foot _F_ when all the other relations are as they should be, except such as we can control by the screw _G_, which prevents the locking jewel from entering too deeply into the escape wheel. In addition to being a complete master of the technical part of his business, it is also desirable that the up-to-date workman should be familiar with the subject from a historical point of view. To aid in such an understanding of the matter we have translated from "L'Almanach de l'Horologerie et de la Bijouterie" the matter contained in the following chapter. CHAPTER IV. HISTORY OF ESCAPEMENTS. It could not have been long after man first became cognizant of his reasoning faculties that he began to take more or less notice of the flight of time. The motion of the sun by day and of the moon and stars by night served to warn him of the recurring periods of light and darkness. By noting the position of these stellar bodies during his lonely vigils, he soon became proficient in roughly dividing up the cycle into sections, which he denominated the hours of the day and of the night. Primitive at first, his methods were simple, his needs few and his time abundant. Increase in numbers, multiplicity of duties, and division of occupation began to make it imperative that a more systematic following of these occupations should be instituted, and with this end in view he contrived, by means of burning lights or by restricting the flowing of water or the falling of weights, to subdivide into convenient intervals and in a tolerably satisfactory manner the periods of light. These modest means then were the first steps toward the exact subdivisions of time which we now enjoy. Unrest, progress, discontent with things that be, we must acknowledge, have, from the appearance of the first clock to the present hour, been the powers which have driven on the inventive genius of watch and clockmakers to designate some new and more acceptable system for regulating the course of the movement. In consequence of this restless search after the best, a very considerable number of escapements have been invented and made up, both for clocks and watches; only a few, however, of the almost numberless systems have survived the test of time and been adopted in the manufacture of the timepiece as we know it now. Indeed, many such inventions never passed the experimental stage, and yet it would be very interesting to the professional horologist, the apprentice and even the layman to become more intimately acquainted with the vast variety of inventions made upon this domain since the inception of horological science. Undoubtedly, a complete collection of all the escapements invented would constitute a most instructive work for the progressive watchmaker, and while we are waiting for a competent author to take such an exhaustive work upon his hands, we shall endeavor to open the way and trust that a number of voluntary collaborators will come forward and assist us to the extent of their ability in filling up the chinks. PROBLEMS TO BE SOLVED. The problem to be solved by means of the escapement has always been to govern, within limits precise and perfectly regular, if it be possible, the flow of the motive force; that means the procession of the wheel-work and, as a consequence, of the hands thereto attached. At first blush it seems as if a continually-moving governor, such as is in use on steam engines, for example, ought to fulfil the conditions, and attempts have accordingly been made upon this line with results which have proven entirely unsatisfactory. Having thoroughly sifted the many varieties at hand, it has been finally determined that the only means known to provide the most regular flow of power consists in intermittently interrupting the procession of the wheel-work, and thereby gaining a periodically uniform movement. Whatever may be the system or kind of escapement employed, the functioning of the mechanism is characterized by the suspension, at regular intervals, of the rotation of the last wheel of the train and in transmitting to a regulator, be it a balance or a pendulum, the power sent into that wheel. ESCAPEMENT THE MOST ESSENTIAL PART. Of all the parts of the timepiece the escapement is then the most essential; it is the part which assures regularity in the running of the watch or clock, and that part of parts that endows the piece with real value. The most perfect escapement would be that one which should perform its duty with the least influence upon the time of oscillation or vibration of the regulating organ. The stoppage of the train by the escapement is brought about in different ways, which may be gathered under three heads or categories. In the two which we shall mention first, the stop is effected directly upon the axis of the regulator, or against a piece which forms a part of that axis; the tooth of the escape wheel at the moment of its disengagement remains supported upon or against that stop. In the first escapement invented and, indeed, in some actually employed to-day for certain kinds of timekeepers, we notice during the locking a retrograde movement of the escape wheel; to this kind of movement has been given the name of _recoil escapement_. It was recognized by the fraternity that this recoil was prejudicial to the regularity of the running of the mechanism and, after the invention of the pendulum and the spiral, inventive makers succeeded in replacing this sort of escapement with one which we now call the _dead-beat escapement_. In this latter the wheel, stopped by the axis of the regulator, remains immovable up to the instant of its disengagement or unlocking. In the third category have been collected all those forms of escapement wherein the escape wheel is locked by an intermediate piece, independent of the regulating organ. This latter performs its vibrations of oscillation quite without interference, and it is only in contact with the train during the very brief moment of impulse which is needful to keep the regulating organ in motion. This category constitutes what is known as the _detached escapement_ class. Of the _recoil escapement_ the principal types are: the _verge escapement_ or _crown-wheel escapement_ for both watches and clocks, and the _recoil anchor escapement_ for clocks. The _cylinder_ and _duplex escapements_ for watches and the _Graham anchor escapement_ for clocks are styles of the _dead-beat escapement_ most often employed. Among the _detached escapements_ we have the _lever_ and _detent_ or _chronometer escapements_ for watches; for clocks there is no fixed type of detached lever and it finds no application to-day. THE VERGE ESCAPEMENT. The _verge escapement_, called also the _crown-wheel escapement_, is by far the simplest and presents the least difficulty in construction. We regret that the world does not know either the name of its originator nor the date at which the invention made its first appearance, but it seems to have followed very closely upon the birth of mechanical horology. Up to 1750 it was employed to the exclusion of almost all the others. In 1850 a very large part of the ordinary commercial watches were still fitted with the verge escapement, and it is still used under the form of _recoil anchor_ in clocks, eighty years after the invention of the cylinder escapement, or in 1802. Ferdinand Berthoud, in his "History of the Measurement of Time," says of the balance-wheel escapement: "Since the epoch of its invention an infinite variety of escapements have been constructed, but the one which is employed in ordinary watches for every-day use is still the best." In referring to our illustrations, we beg first to call attention to the plates marked Figs. 145 and 146. This plate gives us two views of a verge escapement; that is, a balance wheel and a verge formed by its two opposite pallets. The views are intentionally presented in this manner to show that the verge _V_ may be disposed either horizontally, as in Fig. 146, or vertically, as in Fig. 145. [Illustration: Figs. 145 and 146] [Illustration: Fig. 147] Let us imagine that our drawing is in motion, then will the tooth _d_, of the crown wheel _R_, be pushing against the pallet _P_, and just upon the point of slipping by or escaping, while the opposite tooth _e_ is just about to impinge upon the advancing pallet _P'_. This it does, and will at first, through the impulse received from the tooth _d_ be forced back by the momentum of the pallet, that is, suffer a recoil; but on the return journey of the pallet _P'_, the tooth _e_ will then add its impulse to the receding pallet. The tooth _e_ having thus accomplished its mission, will now slip by and the tooth _c_ will come in lock with the pallet _P_ and, after the manner just described for _e_, continue the escapement. Usually these escape wheels are provided with teeth to the number of 11, 13 or 15, and always uneven. A great advantage possessed by this form of escapement is that it does not require any oil, and it may be made to work even under very inferior construction. OLDEST ARRANGEMENT OF A CROWN-WHEEL ESCAPEMENT. [Illustration: Fig. 148] Plate 147 shows us the oldest known arrangement of a crown-wheel escapement in a clock. _R_ is the crown wheel or balance wheel acting upon the pallets _P_ and _P'_, which form part of the verge _V_. This verge is suspended as lightly as possible upon a pliable cord _C_ and carries at its upper end two arms, _B_ and _B_, called adjusters, forming the balance. Two small weights _D D_, adapted to movement along the rules or adjusters serve to regulate the duration of a vibration. In Fig. 148 we have the arrangement adopted in small timepieces and watches: _B_ represents the regulator in the form of a circular balance, but not yet furnished with a spiral regulating spring; _c_ is the last wheel of the train and called the _fourth wheel_, it being that number distant from the great wheel. As will be seen, the verge provided with its pallets is vertically placed, as in the preceding plate. [Illustration: Fig. 149] Here it will quickly be seen that regarded from the standpoint of regularity of motion, this arrangement can be productive of but meager results. Subjected as it is to the influence of the slightest variation in the motive power and of the least jar or shaking, a balance wheel escapement improvided with a regulator containing within itself a regulating force, could not possibly give forth anything else than an unsteady movement. However, mechanical clocks fitted with this escapement offer indisputable advantages over the ancient clepsydra; in spite of their imperfections they rendered important services, especially after the striking movement had been added. For more than three centuries both this crude escapement and the cruder regulator were suffered to continue in this state without a thought of improvement; even in 1600, when Galileo discovered the law governing the oscillation of the pendulum, they did not suspect how important this discovery was for the science of time measurement. GALILEO'S EXPERIMENTS. [Illustration: Fig. 150] Galileo, himself, in spite of his genius for investigation, was so engrossed in his researches that he could not seem to disengage the simple pendulum from the compound pendulums to which he devoted his attention; besides, he attributed to the oscillation an absolute generality of isochronism, which they did not possess; nor did he know how to apply his famous discovery to the measurement of time. In fact, it was not till after more than half a century had elapsed, in 1657, to be exact, that the celebrated Dutch mathematician and astronomer, Huygens, published his memoirs in which he made known to the world the degree of perfection which would accrue to clocks if the pendulum were adopted to regulate their movement. [Illustration: Fig. 151] An attempt was indeed made to snatch from Huygens and confer upon Galileo the glory of having first applied the pendulum to a clock, but this attempt not having been made until some time after the publication of "Huygens' Memoirs," it was impossible to place any faith in the contention. If Galileo had indeed solved the beautiful problem, both in the conception and the fact, the honor of the discovery was lost to him by the laziness and negligence of his pupil, Viviani, upon whom he had placed such high hopes. One thing is certain, that the right of priority of the discovery and the recognition of the entire world has been incontestably bestowed upon Huygens. The escapement which Galileo is supposed to have conceived and to which he applied the pendulum, is shown in Fig. 149. The wheel _R_ is supplied with teeth, which lock against the piece _D_ attached to a lever pivoted at _a_, and also with pins calculated to impart impulses to the pendulum through the pallet _P_. The arm _L_ serves to disengage or unlock the wheel by lifting the lever _D_ upon the return oscillation of the pendulum. [Illustration: Fig. 152] [Illustration: Fig. 153] A careful study of Fig. 150 will discover a simple transposition which it became necessary to make in the clocks, for the effectual adaptation of the pendulum to their regulation. The verge _V_ was set up horizontally and the pendulum _B_, suspended freely from a flexible cord, received the impulses through the intermediation of the forked arm _F_, which formed a part of the verge. At first this forked arm was not thought of, for the pendulum itself formed a part of the verge. A far-reaching step had been taken, but it soon became apparent that perfection was still a long way off. The crown-wheel escapement forcibly incited the pendulum to wider oscillations; these oscillations not being as Galileo had believed, of unvaried durations, but they varied sensibly with the intensity of the motive power. THE ATTAINMENT OF ISOCHRONISM BY HUYGENS. Huygens rendered his pendulum _isochronous_; that is, compelled it to make its oscillations of equal duration, whatever might be the arc described, by suspending the pendulum between two metallic curves _c c'_, each one formed by an arc of a cycloid and against which the suspending cord must lie upon each forward or backward oscillation. We show this device in Fig. 151. In great oscillations, and by that we mean oscillations under a greater impulse, the pendulum would thus be shortened and the shortening would correct the time of the oscillation. However, the application of an exact cycloidal arc was a matter of no little difficulty, if not an impossibility in practice, and practical men began to grope about in search of an escapement which would permit the use of shorter arcs of oscillation. At London the horologist, G. Clement, solved the problem in 1675 with his rack escapement and recoil anchor. In the interval other means were invented, especially the addition of a second pendulum to correct the irregularities of the first. Such an escapement is pictured in Fig. 152. The verge is again vertical and carries near its upper end two arms _D D_, which are each connected by a cord with a pendulum. The two pendulums oscillate constantly in the inverse sense the one to the other. [Illustration: Fig. 154] [Illustration: Fig. 155] ANOTHER TWO-PENDULUM ESCAPEMENT. We show another escapement with two pendulums in Fig. 153. These are fixed directly upon two axes, each one carrying a pallet _P P'_ and a segment of a toothed wheel _D D_, which produces the effect of solidarity between them. The two pendulums oscillate inversely one to the other, and one after the other receives an impulse. This escapement was constructed by Jean Baptiste Dutertre, of Paris. Fig. 154 shows another disposition of a double pendulum. While the pendulum here is double, it has but one bob; it receives the impulse by means of a double fork _F_. _C C_ represents the cycloidal curves and are placed with a view of correcting the inequality in the duration of the oscillations. In watches the circular balances did not afford any better results than the regulating rods or rules of the clocks, and the pendulum, of course, was out of the question altogether; it therefore became imperative to invent some other regulating system. [Illustration: Fig. 156] [Illustration: Fig. 157] It occured to the Abbé d'Hautefeuille to form a sort of resilient mechanism by attaching one end of a hog's bristle to the plate and the other to the balance near the axis. Though imperfect in results, this was nevertheless a brilliant idea, and it was but a short step to replace the bristle with a straight and very flexible spring, which later was supplanted by one coiled up like a serpent; but in spite of this advancement, the watches did not keep much better time. Harrison, the celebrated English horologist, had recourse to two artifices, of which the one consisted in giving to the pallets of the escapement such a curvature that the balance could be led back with a velocity corresponding to the extension of the oscillation; the second consisted of an accessory piece, the resultant action of which was analogous to that of the cycloidal curves in connection with the pendulum. CORRECTING IRREGULARITIES IN THE VERGE ESCAPEMENT. Huygens attempted to correct these irregularities in the verge escapement in watches by amplifying the arc of oscillation of the balance itself. He constructed for that purpose a pirouette escapement shown in Fig. 155, in which a toothed wheel _A_ adjusted upon the verge _V_ serves as an intermediary between that and the balance _B_, upon the axis of which was fixed a pinion _D_. By this method he obtained extended arcs of vibration, but the vibrations were, as a consequence, very slow, and they still remained subject to all the irregularities arising from the variation in the motive power as well as from shocks. A little later, but about the same epoch, a certain Dr. Hook, of the Royal Society of London, contrived another arrangement by means of which he succeeded, so it appeared to him at least, in greatly diminishing the influence of shock upon the escapement; but many other, perhaps greater, inconveniences caused his invention to be speedily rejected. We shall give our readers an idea of what Dr. Hook's escapement was like. [Illustration: Fig. 158] [Illustration: Fig. 159] On looking at Fig. 156 we see the escape wheel _R_, which was flat and in the form of a ratchet; it was provided with two balances. _B B_ engaging each other in teeth, each one carrying a pallet _P P'_ upon its axis; the axes of the three wheels being parallel. Now, in our drawing, the tooth _a_ of the escape wheel exerts its lift upon the pallet _P'_; when this tooth escapes the tooth _b_ will fall upon the pallet _P'_ on the opposite side, a recoil will be produced upon the action of the two united balances, then the tooth _b_ will give its impulse in the contrary direction. Considerable analogy exists between this form of escapement and that shown in Fig. 153 and intended for clocks. This was the busy era in the watchmaker's line. All the great heads were pondering upon the subject and everyone was on the _qui vive_ for the newest thing in the art. In 1674 Huygens brought out the first watch having a regulating spring in the form of a spiral; the merit of this invention was disputed by the English savant, Dr. Hook, who pretended, as did Galileo, in the application of the pendulum, to have priority in the idea. Huygens, who had discovered and corrected the irregularities in the oscillations of the pendulum, did not think of those of the balance with the spiral spring. And it was not until the close of the year 1750 that Pierre Le Roy and Ferdinand Berthoud studied the conditions of isochronism pertaining to the spiral. AN INVENTION THAT CREATED MUCH ENTHUSIASM. However that may be, this magnificent invention, like the adaptation of the pendulum, was welcomed with general enthusiasm throughout the scientific world: without spiral and without pendulum, no other escapement but the recoil escapement was possible; a new highway was thus opened to the searchers. The water clocks (clepsydræ) and the hour glasses disappeared completely, and the timepieces which had till then only marked the hours, having been perfected up to the point of keeping more exact time, were graced with the addition of another hand to tell off the minutes. [Illustration: Fig. 160] [Illustration: Fig. 161] It was not until 1695 that the first _dead-beat escapement_ appeared upon the scene; during the interval of over twenty years all thought had been directed toward the one goal, viz.: the perfecting of the _verge escapement_; but practice demonstrated that no other arrangement of the parts was superior to the original idea. For the benefit of our readers we shall give a few of these attempts at betterment, and you may see for yourselves wherein the trials failed. Fig. 157 represents a _verge escapement_ with a ratchet wheel, the pallets _P P'_ being carried upon separate axes. The two axes are rigidly connected, the one to the other, by means of the arms _o o'_. One of the axes carries besides the fork _F_, which transmits the impulse to the pendulum _B_. In the front view, at the right of the plate, for the sake of clearness the fork and the pendulum are not shown, but one may easily see the jointure of the arms _o o'_ and their mode of operation. Another very peculiar arrangement of the _verge escapement_ we show at Fig. 158. In this there are two wheels, one, _R'_, a small one in the form of a ratchet; the other, _R_, somewhat larger, called the balance wheel, but being supplied with straight and slender teeth. The verge _V_ carrying the two pallets is pivoted in the vertical diameter of the larger wheel. The front view shows the _modus operandi_ of this combination, which is practically the same as the others. The tooth _a_ of the large wheel exerts its force upon the pallet _P_, and the tooth _b_ of the ratchet will encounter the pallet _P'_. This pallet, after suffering its recoil, will receive the impulse communicated by the tooth _b_. This escapement surely could not have given much satisfaction, for it offers no advantage over the others, besides it is of very difficult construction. [Illustration: Fig. 162] [Illustration: Fig. 163] INGENIOUS ATTEMPTS AT SOLUTION OF A DIFFICULT PROBLEM. Much ingenuity to a worthy end, but of little practical value, is displayed in these various attempts at the solution of a very difficult problem. In Fig. 159 we have a mechanism combining two escape wheels engaging each other in gear; of the two wheels, _R R'_, one alone is driven directly by the train, the other being turned in the opposite direction by its comrade. Both are furnished with pins _c c'_, which act alternately upon the pallets _P P'_ disposed in the same plane upon the verge _V_ and pivoted between the wheels. Our drawing represents the escapement at the moment when the pin _C'_ delivers its impulse, and this having been accomplished, the locking takes place upon the pin _C_ of the other wheel upon the pallet _P'_. Another system of two escape wheels is shown in Fig. 160, but in this case the two wheels _R R_ are driven in a like direction by the last wheel _A_ of the train. The operation of the escapement is the same as in Fig. 159. [Illustration: Fig. 164] [Illustration: Fig. 165] In Fig. 161 we have a departure from the road ordinarily pursued. Here we see an escapement combining two levers, invented by the Chevalier de Béthune and applied by M. Thiout, master-horologist, at Paris in 1727. _P P'_ are the two levers or pallets separately pivoted. Upon the axis _V_, of the lever _P_, is fixed a fork which communicates the motion to the pendulum. The two levers are intimately connected by the two arms _B B'_, of which the former carries an adjusting screw, a well-conceived addition for regulating the opening between the pallets. The counter-weight _C_ compels constant contact between the arms _B B'_. The function is always the same, the recoil and the impulsion operate upon the two pallets simultaneously. This escapement enjoyed a certain degree of success, having been employed by a number of horologists who modified it in various ways. VARIOUS MODIFICATIONS Some of these modifications we shall show. For the first example, then, let Fig. 162 illustrate. In this arrangement the fork is carried upon the axis of the pallet _P'_, which effectually does away with the counter-weight _C_, as shown. Somewhat more complicated, but of the same intrinsic nature, is the arrangement displayed in Fig. 163. We should not imagine that it enjoyed a very extensive application. Here the two levers are completely independent of each other; they act upon the piece _B B_ upon the axis _V_ of the fork. The counter-weights _C C'_ maintain the arms carrying the rollers _D D'_ in contact with the piece _B B'_ which thus receives the impulse from the wheel _R_. Two adjusting screws serve to place the escapement upon the center. By degrees these fantastic constructions were abandoned to make way for the anchor recoil escapement, which was invented, as we have said, in 1675, by G. Clement, a horologist, of London. In Fig. 164 we have the disposition of the parts as first arranged by this artist. Here the pallets are replaced by the inclines _A_ and _B_ of the anchor, which is pivoted at _V_ upon an axis to which is fixed also the fork. The tooth _a_ escapes from the incline or lever _A_, and the tooth _b_ immediately rests upon the lever _B_; by the action of the pendulum the escape wheel suffers a recoil as in the pallet escapement, and on the return of the pendulum the tooth _c_ gives out its impulse in the contrary direction. With this new system it became possible to increase the weight of the bob and at the same time lessen the effective motor power. The travel of the pendulum, or arc of oscillation, being reduced in a marked degree, an accuracy of rate was obtained far superior to that of the crown-wheel escapement. However, this new application of the recoil escapement was not adopted in France until 1695. [Illustration: Fig. 166] [Illustration: Fig. 167] The travel of the pendulum, though greatly reduced, still surpassed in breadth the arc in which it is isochronous, and repeated efforts were made to give such shape to the levers as would compel its oscillation within the arc of equal time; a motion which is, as was recognized even at that epoch, the prime requisite to a precise rating. Thus, in 1720, Julien Leroy occupied himself working out the proper shapes for the inclines to produce this desired isochronism. Searching along the same path, Ferd. Berthoud constructed an escapement represented by the Fig. 165. In it we see the same inclines _A B_ of the former construction, but the locking is effected against the slides _C_ and _D_, the curved faces of which produce isochronous oscillations of the pendulum. The tooth _b_ imparts its lift and the tooth _c_ will lock against the face _C_; after having passed through its recoil motion this tooth _c_ will butt against the incline _A_ and work out its lift or impulse upon it. THE GABLE ESCAPEMENT. [Illustration: Fig. 168] [Illustration: Fig. 169] The _gable escapement_, shown in Fig. 166, allows the use of a heavier pendulum, at the same time the anchor embraces within its jaws a greater number of the escape-wheel teeth; an arrangement after this manner leads to the conclusion that with these long levers of the anchor the friction will be considerably increased and the recoil faces will, as a consequence, be quickly worn away. Without doubt, this was invented to permit of opening and closing the contact points of the anchor more easily. Under the name of the _English recoil anchor_ there came into use an escapement with a _reduced gable_, which embraced fewer teeth between the pallets or inclines; we give a representation of this in Fig. 167. This system seems to have been moderately successful. The anchor recoil escapement in use in Germany to-day is demonstrated in Fig. 168; this arrangement is also found in the American clocks. As we see, the anchor is composed of a single piece of curved steel bent to the desired curves. Clocks provided with this escapement keep reasonably good time; the resistance of the recoils compensate in a measure for the want of isochronism in the oscillations of the pendulum. Ordinary clocks require considerably more power to drive them than finer clocks and, as a consequence, their ticking is very noisy. Several means have been employed to dampen this noise, one of which we show in Fig. 169. [Illustration: Fig. 170] Here the anchor is composed of two pieces, _A B_, screwed upon a plate _H_ pivoting at _V_. In their arrangement the two pieces represent, as to distance and curvature, the counterpart of Fig. 168. At the moment of impact their extreme ends recoil or spring back from the shock of the escape teeth, but the resiliency of the metal is calculated to be strong enough to return them immediately to the contact studs _e e_. As a termination to this chapter, we shall mention the use made at the present day of the recoil lever escapement in repeating watches. We give a diagram of this construction in Fig. 170. The lever here is intended to restrain and regulate the motion of the small striking work. It is pivoted at _V_ and is capable of a very rapid oscillatory motion, the arc of which may, however, be fixed by the stud or stop _D_, which limits the swing of the fly _C_. This fly is of one piece with the lever and, together with the stud _D_, determines the angular motion of the lever. If the angle be large that means the path of the fly be long, then the striking train will move slowly; but if the teeth of the escape wheel _R_ can just pass by without causing the lever to describe a supplementary or extended arc, the striking work will run off rapidly. CHAPTER V. PUTTING IN A NEW CYLINDER. Putting in a new cylinder is something most watchmakers fancy they can do, and do well; but still it is a job very few workmen can do and fulfill all the requirements a job of this kind demands under the ever-varying conditions and circumstances presented in repairs of this kind. It is well to explain somewhat at this point: Suppose we have five watches taken in with broken cylinders. Out of this number probably two could be pivoted to advantage and make the watches as good as ever. As to the pivoting of a cylinder, we will deal with this later on. The first thing to do is to make an examination of the cylinder, not only to see if it is broken, but also to determine if pivoting is going to bring it out all right. Let us imagine that some workman has, at some previous time, put in a new cylinder, and instead of putting in one of the proper size he has put one in too large or too small. Now, in either case he would have to remove a portion of the escape-wheel tooth, that is, shorten the tooth: because, if the cylinder was too large it would not go in between the teeth, and consequently the teeth would have to be cut or stoned away. If the cylinder was too small, again the teeth would have to be cut away to allow them to enter the cylinder. All workmen have traditions, rules some call them, that they go by in relation to the right way to dress a cylinder tooth; some insisting that the toe or point of the tooth is the only place which should be tampered with. Other workmen insist that the heel of the tooth is the proper place. Now, with all due consideration, we would say that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the proper thing to do is to let the escape-wheel teeth entirely alone. As we can understand, after a moment's thought, that it is impossible to have the teeth of the escape wheel too long and have the watch run at all; hence, the idea of stoning a cylinder escape-wheel tooth should not be tolerated. ESCAPE-WHEEL TEETH _vs._ CYLINDER. It will not do, however, to accept, and take it for granted that the escape-wheel teeth are all right, because in many instances they have been stoned away and made too short; but if we accept this condition as being the case, that is, that the escape-wheel teeth are too short, what is the workman going to do about it? The owner of the watch will not pay for a new escape wheel as well as a new cylinder. The situation can be summed up about in this way, that we will have to make the best we can out of a bad job, and pick out and fit a cylinder on a compromise idea. In regard to picking out a new cylinder, it may not do to select one of the same size as the old one, from the fact that the old one may not have been of the proper size for the escape wheel, because, even in new, cheap watches, the workmen who "run in" the escapement knew very well the cylinder and escape wheel were not adapted for each other, but they were the best he had. Chapter II, on the cylinder escapement, will enable our readers to master the subject and hence be better able to judge of allowances to be made in order to permit imperfect material to be used. In illustration, let us imagine that we have to put in a new cylinder, and we have none of precisely the proper size, but we have them both a mere trifle too large and too small, and the question is which to use. Our advice is to use the smaller one if it does not require the escape-wheel teeth to be "dressed," that is, made smaller. Why we make this choice is based on the fact that the smaller cylinder shell gives less friction, and the loss from "drop"--that is, side play between the escape-wheel teeth and the cylinder--will be the same in both instances except to change the lost motion from inside to outside drop. In devising a system to be applied to selecting a new cylinder, we meet the same troubles encountered throughout all watchmakers' repair work, and chief among these are good and convenient measuring tools. But even with perfect measuring tools we would have to exercise good judgment, as just explained. In Chapter II we gave a rule for determining the outside diameter of a cylinder from the diameter of the escape wheel; but such rules and tables will, in nine instances out of ten, have to be modified by attendant circumstances--as, for instance, the thickness of the shell of the cylinder, which should be one-tenth of the outer diameter of the shell, but the shell is usually thicker. A tolerably safe practical rule and one also depending very much on the workman's good judgment is, when the escape-wheel teeth have been shortened, to select a cylinder giving ample clearance inside the shell to the tooth, but by no means large enough to fill the space between the teeth. After studying carefully the instructions just given we think the workman will have no difficulty in selecting a cylinder of the right diameter. MEASURING THE HEIGHTS. The next thing is to get the proper heights. This is much more easily arrived at: the main measurement being to have the teeth of the escape wheel clear the upper face of the lower plug. In order to talk intelligently we will make a drawing of a cylinder and agree on the proper names for the several parts to be used in this chapter. Such drawing is shown at Fig. 171. The names are: The hollow cylinder, made up of the parts _A A' A'' A'''_, called the shell--_A_ is the great shell, _A'_ the half shell, _A''_ the banking slot, and _A'''_ the small shell. The brass part _D_ is called the collet and consists of three parts--the hairspring seat _D_, the balance seat _D'_ and the shoulder _D''_, against which the balance is riveted. [Illustration: Fig. 171] The first measurement for fitting a new cylinder is to determine the height of the lower plug face, which corresponds to the line _x x_, Fig. 171. The height of this face is such as to permit the escape wheel to pass freely over it. In selecting a new cylinder it is well to choose one which is as wide at the banking slot _A''_ as is consistent with safety. The width of the banking slot is represented by the dotted lines _x u_. The dotted line _v_ represents the length to which the lower pivot _y_ is to be cut. [Illustration: Fig. 172] [Illustration: Fig. 173] There are several little tools on the market used for making the necessary measurements, but we will describe a very simple one which can readily be made. To do so, take about a No. 5 sewing needle and, after annealing, cut a screw thread on it, as shown at Fig, 172, where _E_ represents the needle and _t t_ the screw cut upon it. After the screw is cut, the needle is again hardened and tempered to a spring temper and a long, thin pivot turned upon it. The needle is now shaped as shown at Fig. 173. The pivot at _s_ should be small enough to go easily through the smallest hole jewel to be found in cylinder watches, and should be about 1/16" long. The part at _r_ should be about 3/16" long and only reduced in size enough to fully remove the screw threads shown at _t_. [Illustration: Fig. 174] [Illustration: Fig. 175] [Illustration: Fig. 176] [Illustration: Fig. 177] We next provide a sleeve or guard for our gage. To do this we take a piece of hard brass bushing wire about ½" long and, placing it in a wire chuck, center and drill it nearly the entire length, leaving, say, 1/10" at one end to be carried through with a small drill. We show at _F_, Fig. 174, a magnified longitudinal section of such a sleeve. The piece _F_ is drilled from the end _l_ up to the line _q_ with a drill of such a size that a female screw can be cut in it to fit the screw on the needle, and _F_ is tapped out to fit such a screw from _l_ up to the dotted line _p_. The sleeve _F_ is run on the screw _t_ and now appears as shown at Fig. 175, with the addition of a handle shown at _G G'_. It is evident that we can allow the pivot _s_ to protrude from the sleeve _F_ any portion of its length, and regulate such protrusion by the screw _t_. To employ this tool for getting the proper length to which to cut the pivot _y_, Fig. 171, we remove the lower cap jewel to the cylinder pivot and, holding, the movement in the left hand, pass the pivot _s_, Fig. 175, up through the hole jewel, regulate the length by turning the sleeve _F_ until the arm of the escape wheel _I_, Fig. 176, will just turn free over it. Now the length of the pivot _s_, which protrudes beyond the sleeve _F_, coincides with the length to which we must cut the pivot _y_, Fig. 171. To hold a cylinder for reducing the length of the pivot _y_, we hold said pivot in a pair of thin-edged cutting pliers, as shown at Fig. 177, where _N N'_ represent the jaws of a pair of cutting pliers and _y_ the pivot to be cut. The measurement is made by putting the pivot _s_ between the jaws _N N'_ as they hold the pivot. The cutting is done by simply filing back the pivot until of the right length. TURNING THE PIVOTS. We have now the pivot _y_ of the proper length, and what remains to be done is to turn it to the right size. We do not think it advisable to try to use a split chuck, although we have seen workmen drive the shell _A A'''_ out of the collet _D_ and then turn up the pivots _y z_ in said wire chuck. To our judgment there is but one chuck for turning pivots, and this is the cement chuck provided with all American lathes. Many workmen object to a cement chuck, but we think no man should lay claim to the name of watchmaker until he masters the mystery of the cement chuck. It is not such a very difficult matter, and the skill once acquired would not be parted with cheaply. One thing has served to put the wax or cement chuck into disfavor, and that is the abominable stuff sold by some material houses for lathe cement. The original cement, made and patented by James Bottum for his cement chuck, was made up of a rather complicated mixture; but all the substances really demanded in such cement are ultramarine blue and a good quality of shellac. These ingredients are compounded in the proportion of 8 parts of shellac and 1 part of ultramarine--all by weight. HOW TO USE A CEMENT CHUCK. The shellac is melted in an iron vessel, and the ultramarine added and stirred to incorporate the parts. Care should be observed not to burn the shellac. While warm, the melted mass is poured on to a cold slab of iron or stone, and while plastic made into sticks about ½" in diameter. [Illustration: Fig. 178] [Illustration: Fig. 179] We show at Fig. 178 a side view of the outer end of a cement chuck with a cylinder in position. We commence to turn the lower pivot of a cylinder, allowing the pivot _z_ to rest at the apex of the hollow cone _a_, as shown. There is something of a trick in turning such a hollow cone and leaving no "tit" or protuberance in the center, but it is important it should be done. A little practice will soon enable one to master the job. A graver for this purpose should be cut to rather an oblique point, as shown at _L_, Fig. 179. The slope of the sides to the recess _a_, Fig. 178, should be to about forty-five degrees, making the angle at _a_ about ninety degrees. The only way to insure perfect accuracy of centering of a cylinder in a cement chuck is center by the shell, which is done by cutting a piece of pegwood to a wedge shape and letting it rest on the T-rest; then hold the edge of the pegwood to the cylinder as the lathe revolves and the cement soft and plastic. A cylinder so centered will be absolutely true. The outline curve at _c_, Fig. 178, represents the surface of the cement. The next operation is turning the pivot to the proper size to fit the jewel. This is usually done by trial, that is, trying the pivot into the hole in the jewel. A quicker way is to gage the hole jewel and then turn the pivot to the right size, as measured by micrometer calipers. In some cylinder watches the end stone stands at some distance from the outer surface of the hole jewel; consequently, if the measurement for the length of the pivot is taken by the tool shown at Fig. 175, the pivot will apparently be too short. When the lower end stone is removed we should take note if any allowance is to be made for such extra space. The trouble which would ensue from not providing for such extra end shake would be that the lower edge of the half shell, shown at _e_, Fig. 171, would strike the projection on which the "stalk" of the tooth is planted. After the lower pivot is turned to fit the jewel the cylinder is to be removed from the cement chuck and the upper part turned. The measurements to be looked to now are, first, the entire length of the cylinder, which is understood to be the entire distance between the inner faces of the two end stones, and corresponds to the distance between the lines _v d_, Fig. 171. This measurement can be got by removing both end stones and taking the distance with a Boley gage or a douzieme caliper. A CONVENIENT TOOL FOR LENGTH MEASUREMENT. [Illustration: Fig. 180] A pair of common pinion calipers slightly modified makes as good a pair of calipers for length measurement as one can desire. This instrument is made by inserting a small screw in one of the blades--the head on the inner side, as shown at _f_, Fig. 180. The idea of the tool is, the screw head _f_ rests in the sink of the cap jewel or end stone, while the other blade rests on the cock over the balance. After the adjusting screw to the caliper is set, the spring of the blades allows of their removal. The top pivot _z_ of the cylinder is next cut to the proper length, as indicated by the space between the screwhead _f_ and the other blade of the pinion caliper. The upper pinion _z_ is held in the jaws of the cutting pliers, as shown in Fig. 177, the same as the lower one was held, until the proper length between the lines _d v_, Fig. 171, is secured, after which the cylinder is put back into the cement chuck, as shown at Fig. 178, except this time the top portion of the cylinder is allowed to protrude so that we can turn the top pivot and the balance collet _D_, Fig. 171. The sizes we have now to look to is to fit the pivot _z_ to the top hole jewel in the cock, also the hairspring seat _D_ and balance seat _D'_. These are turned to diameters, and are the most readily secured by the use of the micrometer calipers to be had of any large watchmakers' tool and supply house. In addition to the diameters named, we must get the proper height for the balance, which is represented by the dotted line _b_. The measurement for this can usually be obtained from the old cylinder by simply comparing it with the new one as it rests in the cement chuck. The true tool for such measurements is a height gage. We have made no mention of finishing and polishing the pivots, as these points are generally well understood by the trade. REMOVING THE LATHE CEMENT. One point perhaps we might well say a few words on, and this is in regard to removing the lathe cement. Such cement is usually removed by boiling in a copper dish with alcohol. But there are several objections to the practice. In the first place, it wastes a good deal of alcohol, and also leaves the work stained. We can accomplish this operation quicker, and save alcohol, by putting the cylinder with the wax on it in a very small homeopathic bottle and corking it tight. The bottle is then boiled in water, and in a few seconds the shellac is dissolved away. The balance to most cylinder watches is of red brass, and in some instances of low karat gold; in either case the balance should be repolished. To do this dip in a strong solution of cyanide of potassium dissolved in water; one-fourth ounce of cyanide in half pint of water is about the proper strength. Dip and rinse, then polish with a chamois buff and rouge. [Illustration: Fig. 181] In staking on the balance, care should be observed to set the banking pin in the rim so it will come right; this is usually secured by setting said pin so it stands opposite to the opening in the half shell. The seat of the balance on the collet _D_ should be undercut so that there is only an edge to rivet down on the balance. This will be better understood by inspecting Fig. 181, where we show a vertical section of the collet _D_ and cylinder _A_. At _g g_ is shown the undercut edge of the balance seat, which is folded over as the balance is rivetted fast. About all that remains now to be done is to true up the balance and bring it to poise. The practice frequently adopted to poise a plain balance is to file it with a half-round file on the inside, in order not to show any detraction when looking at the outer edge of the rim. A better and quicker plan is to place the balance in a split chuck, and with a diamond or round-pointed tool scoop out a little piece of metal as the balance revolves. In doing this, the spindle of the lathe is turned by the hand grasping the pulley between the finger and thumb. The so-called diamond and round-pointed tools are shown at _o o'_, Fig. 182. The idea of this plan of reducing the weight of a balance is, one of the tools _o_ is rested on the T-rest and pressed forward until a chip is started and allowed to enter until sufficient metal is engaged, then, by swinging down on the handle of the tool, the chip is taken out. [Illustration: Fig. 182] [Illustration: Fig. 183] In placing a balance in a step chuck, the banking pin is caused to enter one of the three slots in the chuck, so as not to be bent down on to the rim of the balance. It is seldom the depth between the cylinder and escape wheel will need be changed after putting in a new cylinder; if such is the case, however, move the chariot--we mean the cock attached to the lower plate. Do not attempt to change the depth by manipulating the balance cock. Fig. 183 shows, at _h h_, the form of chip taken out by the tool _o o'_, Fig. 182. INDEX A Acid frosting, 46 "Action" drawings, 90 Action of a chronometer escapement, 142 Acting surface of entrance lip, 127 Actions of cylinder escapement, 112 Adhesion of parallel surfaces, 94 Adjustable pallets, 98 Adjusting screw for drawing instruments, 21 Analysis of principles involved in detent, 137 Analysis of the action of a lever escapement, 86 Angle-measuring device, 68 Angular extent of shell of cylinder, 122 Angular motion, drawing an escapement to show, 91 How measured, 69 Of escape wheel, 37 Antagonistic influences, 133 Arc of degrees, 9 Atmospheric disturbances, 74 Attainment of isochronism, 159 B Balance, how it controls timekeeping, 73 Weight and inertia of, 133 Balance spring, inventor of, 132 Banking slot of cylinder, 112 Bankings, effect of opening too wide, 63 Bar compasses, 21 Barometric pressure, 74 Basis for close measurements, 96 C Cement chuck, how to use, 173 Chronometer detent, importance of light construction, 136 Chronometer escapement, 131, 155 Four principal parts of, 134 Circular pallets, 27 Club-tooth escapement, 30, 34 Club-tooth lever escapement with circular pallets and tangential lockings, 83 Crown-wheel escapement, 155 Cylinder, drawing a, 120 Outer diameter of, 116 Putting in a new, 169 Cylinder escapement, 155 Date of invention, etc., 111 Forms and proportions of several parts of, 111 Names of various parts, 112 Cylinder lips, proper shape of, 124 D Dead-beat escapement, 131, 135 Only one true, 112 Depth, between cylinder and escape wheel, 129 Effect of changing, 176 Designing a double roller, 77 Detached escapement, 155 Detent, functions of the, 137 Detent escapement, 131, 155 Faults in, 132 Detent spring dimensions, 138 Detent springs, width of, 147 Discharging jewel, setting the, 142 Discharging roller, 136 Dividers, 9 Making, 10 Double pendulum, 160 Double-roller escapement, 75 Draw defined, 85 Drawing-board, 11 Drawing instruments, 9 Drawings, advantage of large, 29 Drop and draw, 150 Duplex escapement, 131, 155 E Elasticity of spring, 133 Engaging friction, 81 English recoil anchor, 167 Entrance lip of cylinder escapement, 125 Escapement angles, measuring, 101 Escapement error, study of, 64 Escapement matching tool, 106 Escapement model, 40 Balance, 42 Balance staff, 44 Bridges, 41, 42 Escape wheel, 43 Extra balance cock, 45 "Frosting", 46 Hairspring, 42 Jewel for, 43 Lower plate, 41 Main plate, 41 Movement for, 41 Pallet staff, 42 Pillars, 43 Regulator, 46 Uses of, 44 Wood base for, 41 Escapements compared, 103 Escapement of Dutertre, 160 Escape-wheel action, 30 Escape-wheel, delineating an, 11 Escape-wheel teeth vs. cylinder, 169 Escape-wheel tooth in action, delineating an, 126 Exit pallet, 26 Experiments of Galileo, 158 Experiments with a chronometer, 142 Extent of angular impulse, 118 F "Fall" defined, 106 Faults in the detent escapement, 132 Fixed rules, of little value to student, 137 Flexure of gold spring, 146 Foot, fitting up the, 151 Fork, testing the, 71 Fork action, 30 Theory of, 59 Fork and roller action, 54 Formulas for delineating cylinder escapement, 115 Frictions, 24 Frictional escapement, 131, 132 Frictional surfaces, 63 Fusee, 131 G Gable escapement, 167 Gage, a new, 172 Graham anchor escapement, 155 Gold spring, 146 Guard point, 79 Material for, 79 Gummy secretion on impulse and discharging stones, 147 H Heights in cylinders, how obtained, 171 Hole jewels, distance apart, 140 I Imaginary faults in cylinders, 129 Impulse angle, 118 Impulse arc, extent of, 134 Impulse jewel set oblique, 147 Impulse planes, locating outer angle of, 39 Impulse roller, 136 Incline of teeth, 122 Inertia of balance, 133 Inventions of Berthoud, 163 Béthune, 165 Clement, 166 Dr. Hook, 162 Harrison, 161 Hautefeuille, 161 Huygens, 158 Leroy, 163 Thiout, 165 J Jewel pin, determining size, 58 Cementing in, 67 Settings, 66 Jewel-pin setters, 67 L Lathe cement, 173 Removing, 175 Lever, proper length of, 61 Lever fork, horn of, 61 prongs of, 60 Lift, real and apparent, 112 Lifting angle, 114 Lock, amount of, 28 Defined, 85 Lock and drop testing, 69 Locking jewel, moving the, 149 Locking stone, good form of, 144 Lower plate, circular opening in, 56 M Marine chronometer, number of beats to hour, 148 Mathematics, 95 Measuring tools, 171 Metal drawings, advantages of, 140 Motion, how obtained, 16 Movement holder, 110 N Neutral lockings, 84 O Original designing, 148 P Pallet action, locating the, 90 Pallet-and-fork action, 12, 13, 17, 18 Pallet stones, how to set, 104 Pallets, adjusting to match the fork, 65 Paper for drawing, 11 Parts, relations of the, 32 Passing hollow, 62 Perfected lever escapement, 87 Pivots, turning, 172 Point of percussion, 139 Points for drawing instruments, 20 Polishing materials, 52 Power leaks, 16 Power lost in lever escapement, 87 Practical problems in the lever escapement, 98 R Radial extent of outside of cylinder, 125 Ratchet-tooth escape wheel, 12 Recoil anchor escapement, 155 Recoil escapement, 154 Reduced gable escapement, 167 Retrograde motion, 36 Roller action, why 30 degrees, 55 Of double roller, 78 Roller diameter, determining the, 55 Ruling pen, 9 S Safety action, 56 Scale of inches, 9 Screws, making extra large, 45 Screwheads, fancy, 45 Selecting new cylinder, 170 Shaping, advantages gained in, 116 Sheet steel, cutting, 48 Short fork, 100 Sound as indicator of correct action, 144 Spring, elasticity of, 133 Staking on a balance, 175 Steel, polishing, 49 Tempering, 49 Study drawings, 124 Systems of measurements, 114 T Tangential lockings, 80, 148 Test gage for angular movement, 65 Theoretical action of double roller, 76 Timekeeping, controlled by balance, 73 Tool for length measurement, 174 Tools, measuring, 171 Triangle, 18 T-square, 9 U Unlocking action, 56 Unlocking roller, 136 V Verge escapement, 131, 155 W Weight and inertia of balance, 133 Working model of cylinder escapement, 123 * * * * * * THE WATCH ADJUSTER'S MANUAL [Illustration] A Complete and Practical Guide for Watchmakers in Adjusting Watches and Chronometers for Isochronism, Position, Heat and Cold. BY CHARLES EDGAR FRITTS (EXCELSIOR), Author of "Practical Hints on Watch Repairing," "Practical Treatise on Balance Spring," "Electricity and Magnetism for Watchmakers," etc., etc. This well-known work is now recognized as the standard authority on the adjustments and kindred subjects, both here and in England. It contains an exhaustive consideration of the various theories proposed, the mechanical principles on which the adjustments are based, and the different methods followed in actual practice, giving all that is publicly known in the trade, with a large amount of entirely new practical matter not to be found elsewhere, obtained from the best manufacturers and workmen, as well as from the author's own studies and experiences. Sent postpaid to any part of the world on receipt of $2.50 (10s. 5d.) THE KEYSTONE (SOLE AGENT), 19TH AND BROWN STREETS, PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE ART OF ENGRAVING [Illustration] A Complete Treatise on the Engraver's Art, with Special Reference to Letter and Monogram Engraving. Specially Compiled as a Standard Text-Book for Students and a Reliable Reference Book for Engravers. This work is the only thoroughly reliable and exhaustive treatise published on this important subject. It is an ideal text-book, beginning with the rudiments and leading the student step by step to a complete and practical mastery of the art. Back of the authorship is a long experience as a successful engraver, also a successful career as an instructor in engraving. These qualifications ensure accuracy and reliability of matter, and such a course of instruction as is best for the learner and qualified engraver. The most notable feature of the new treatise is the instructive character of the illustrations. There are over 200 original illustrations by the author. A very complete index facilitates reference to any required topic. Bound in Silk Cloth--208 Pages and 216 Illustrations. Sent postpaid to any part of the world on receipt of price, $1.50 (6s. 3d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE KEYSTONE PORTFOLIO OF MONOGRAMS [Illustration: C.B.R.] [Illustration: A.O.U.W] [Illustration: I.R.C.] [Illustration: G.H.I.] This portfolio contains 121 combination designs. These designs were selected from the best of those submitted in a prize competition held by The Keystone, and will be found of value to every one doing engraving. The designs are conceded to be the best in the market, excelling in art and novelty of combination and skill in execution. They are printed from steel plates on stiff, durable paper, and contain sample monograms in a variety of combinations. The portfolio is a bench requirement that no jeweler can afford to be without. It is a necessary supplement to any text-book on letter engraving. Price, 50 Cents (2s.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE OPTICIAN'S MANUAL VOL. I. BY C.H. BROWN, M.D. Graduate University of Pennsylvania; Professor of Optics and Refraction; formerly Physician in Philadelphia Hospital; Member of Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania State and American Medical Societies. [Illustration] The Optician's Manual, Vol. I., has proved to be the most popular work on practical refraction ever published. The knowledge it contains has been more effective in building up the optical profession than any other educational factor. A study of it is essential to an intelligent appreciation of Vol. II., for it lays the foundation structure of all optical knowledge, as the titles of its ten chapters show: Chapter I.--Introductory Remarks. Chapter II.--The Eye Anatomically. Chapter III.--The Eye Optically; or, The Physiology of Vision. Chapter IV.--Optics. Chapter V.--Lenses. Chapter VI.--Numbering of Lenses. Chapter VII.--The Use and Value of Glasses. Chapter VIII.--Outfit Required. Chapter IX.--Method of Examination. Chapter X.--Presbyopia. The Optician's Manual, Vol. I., is complete in itself, and has been the entire optical education of many successful opticians. For student and teacher it is the best treatise of its kind, being simple in style, accurate in statement and comprehensive in its treatment of refractive procedure and problems. It merits the place of honor beside Vol. II. in every optical library. Bound in Cloth--422 pages--colored plates and Illustrations. Sent postpaid on receipt of $2.00 (8s. 4d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE OPTICIAN'S MANUAL VOL. II. BY C.H. BROWN, M.D. Graduate University of Pennsylvania; Professor of Optics and Refraction; formerly Physician in Philadelphia Hospital; Member of Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania State and American Medical Societies. [Illustration] The Optician's Manual, Vol. II., is a direct continuation of The Optician's Manual, Vol. I., being a much more advanced and comprehensive treatise. It covers in minutest detail the four great subdivisions of practical eye refraction, viz: Myopia. Hypermetropia. Astigmatism. Muscular Anomalies. It contains the most authoritative and complete researches up to date on these subjects, treated by the master hand of an eminent oculist and optical teacher. It is thoroughly practical, explicit in statement and accurate as to fact. All refractive errors and complications are clearly explained, and the methods of correction thoroughly elucidated. This book fills the last great want in higher refractive optics, and the knowledge contained in it marks the standard of professionalism. Bound in Cloth--408 pages--with illustrations. Sent postpaid on receipt of $2.00 (8s. 4d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * SKIASCOPY AND THE USE OF THE RETINOSCOPE [Illustration] A Treatise on the Shadow Test in its Practical Application to the Work of Refraction, with an Explanation in Detail of the Optical Principles on which the Science is Based. This new work, the sale of which has already necessitated a second edition, far excels all previous treatises on the subject in comprehensiveness and practical value to the refractionist. It not only explains the test, but expounds fully and explicitly the principles underlying it--not only the phenomena revealed by the test, but the why and wherefore of such phenomena. It contains a full description of skiascopic apparatus, including the latest and most approved instruments. In depth of research, wealth of illustration and scientific completeness this work is unique. Bound in cloth; contains 231 pages and 73 illustrations and colored plates. Sent postpaid to any part of the world on receipt of $1.00 (4s. 2d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH AND BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * PHYSIOLOGIC OPTICS Ocular Dioptrics--Functions of the Retina--Ocular Movements and Binocular Vision BY DR. M. TSCHERNING Adjunct-Director of the Laboratory of Ophthalmology at the Sorbonne, Paris AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY CARL WEILAND, M.D. Former Chief of Clinic in the Eye Department of the Jefferson College Hospital, Philadelphia, Pa. This is the crowning work on physiologic optics, and will mark a new era in optical study. Its distinguished author is recognized in the world of science as the greatest living authority on this subject, and his book embodies not only his own researches, but those of the several hundred investigators who, in the past hundred years, made the eye their specialty and life study. Tscherning has sifted the gold of all optical research from the dross, and his book, as now published in English with many additions, is the most valuable mine of reliable optical knowledge within reach of ophthalmologists. It contains 380 pages and 212 illustrations, and its reference list comprises the entire galaxy of scientists who have made the century famous in the world of optics. The chapters on Ophthalmometry, Ophthalmoscopy, Accommodation, Astigmatism, Aberration and Entoptic Phenomena, etc.--in fact, the entire book contains so much that is new, practical and necessary that no refractionist can afford to be without it. Bound in Cloth. 380 Pages, 212 Illustrations. Price, $3.50 (14s. 7d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * OPHTHALMIC LENSES Dioptric Formulæ for Combined Cylindrical Lenses, The Prism-Dioptry and Other Original Papers BY CHARLES F. PRENTICE, M.E. A new and revised edition of all the original papers of this noted author, combined in one volume. In this revised form, with the addition of recent research, these standard papers are of increased value. Combined for the first time in one volume, they are the greatest compilation on the subject of lenses extant. This book of over 200 pages contains the following papers: Ophthalmic Lenses. Dioptric Formulæ for Combined Cylindrical Lenses. The Prism-Dioptry. A Metric System of Numbering and Measuring Prisms. The Relation of the Prism-Dioptry to the Meter Angle. The Relation of the Prism-Dioptry to the Lens-Dioptry. The Perfected Prismometer. The Prismometric Scale. On the Practical Execution of Ophthalmic Prescriptions involving Prisms. A Problem in Cemented Bi-Focal Lenses, Solved by the Prism-Dioptry. Why Strong Contra-Generic Lenses of Equal Power Fail to Neutralize Each Other. The Advantages of the Sphero-Toric Lens. The Iris, as Diaphragm and Photostat. The Typoscope. The Correction of Depleted Dynamic Refraction (Presbyopia). _Press Notices on the Original Edition:_ OPHTHALMIC LENSES. "The work stands alone, in its present form, a compendium of the various laws of physics relative to this subject that are so difficult of access in scattered treatises."--_New England Medical Gazette._ "It is the most complete and best illustrated book on this special subject ever published."--_Horological Review_, New York. "Of all the simple treatises on the properties of lenses that we have seen, this is incomparably the best.... The teacher of the average medical student will hail this little work as a great boon."--_Archives of Ophthalmology, edited by H. Knapp, M.D._ DIOPTRIC FORMULÆ FOR COMBINED CYLINDRICAL LENSES. "This little brochure solves the problem of combined cylinders in all its aspects, and in a manner simple enough for the comprehension of the average student of ophthalmology. The author is to be congratulated upon the success that has crowned his labors, for nowhere is there to be found so simple and yet so complete an explanation as is contained in these pages."--_Archives of Ophthalmology, edited by H. Knapp, M.D._ "This exhaustive work of Mr. Prentice is a solution of one of the most difficult problems in ophthalmological optics. Thanks are due to Mr. Prentice for the excellent manner in which he has elucidated a subject which has not hitherto been satisfactorily explained."--_The Ophthalmic Review_, London. The book contains 110 Original Diagrams. Bound in cloth. Price, $1.50 (6s. 3d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * OPTOMETRIC RECORD BOOK A record book, wherein to record optometric examinations, is an indispensable adjunct of an optician's outfit. The Keystone Optometric Record Book was specially prepared for this purpose. It excels all others in being not only a record book, but an invaluable guide in examination. The book contains two hundred record forms with printed headings, suggesting, in the proper order, the course of examination that should be pursued to obtain most accurate results. Each book has an index, which enables the optician to refer instantly to the case of any particular patient. The Keystone Record Book diminishes the time and labor required for examinations, obviates possible oversights from carelessness and assures a systematic and thorough examination of the eye, as well as furnishes a permanent record of all examinations. Sent postpaid on receipt of $1.00 (4s. 2d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE KEYSTONE BOOK OF MONOGRAMS This book contains 2400 designs and over 6000 different combinations of two and three letters. Is an essential to every jeweler's outfit. It is not only necessary for the jeweler's own use and guidance, but also to enable customers to indicate exactly what they want, thus saving time and possible dissatisfaction. The Monograms are purposely left in outline, in order to show clearly how the letters are intertwined or woven together. This permits such enlargement or reduction of the Monogram as may be desired, and as much shading, ornamentation and artistic finish as the jeweler may wish to add. This comprehensive compilation of Monograms is especially available as a reference book in busy seasons. Its use saves time, thought and labor, and ensures quick and satisfactory work. Monograms are the fad of the time, and there's money for the jeweler in Monogram engraving. The knowledge in this book can be turned into cash. All the various styles of letters are illustrated. Price, $1.00 (4s. 2d.) PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE KEYSTONE RECORD BOOK OF WATCH REPAIRS This book is 9 × 11 inches, has 120 pages, and space for recording sixteen hundred jobs in detail. It is made of linen ledger paper, bound in cloth with leather back and corners. Price, $1.00 (4s. 2d.), prepaid. No other record book on the market is so complete, and all cost more. PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. * * * * * THE KEYSTONE BOOK OF GUARANTEES OF WATCH REPAIRS This book contains two hundred printed guarantees, and is handsomely bound. Each guarantee is 3¼ × 7½ inches, and most carefully worded. Jewelers have discovered that the use of these guarantees is a most effective way to secure and cultivate public confidence. We sell a book of two hundred for $1.00 (4s. 2d.), prepaid, which is one-third less than the price charged by others for a similar book. PUBLISHED BY THE KEYSTONE, THE ORGAN OF THE JEWELRY AND OPTICAL TRADES, 19TH & BROWN STS., PHILADELPHIA, U.S.A. 
21035	----	The Adventures of a Three-Guinea Watch By Talbot Baines Reed ________________________________________________________________________ This is really a most unusual book. Told, we must imagine, by the watch, we are led through the owner's days at a boys' boarding school, to being stolen, pawned, auctioned, taken to quite another small town, given to a brilliant local boy when he left for Cambridge, lost in a field, found, and through further adventures being taken to India to fight in a battle near Lucknow, finally making its way into the pocket of its original owner, whose life was saved by the watch having deflected a bullet. It's well-told, too, and not too long, at under ten hours. The copy we worked from was very browned, and it was not too easy to do the transcription, but we have done our best: if you find anything obviously wrong, don't hesitate to tell us about it. NH. ________________________________________________________________________ THE ADVENTURES OF A THREE-GUINEA WATCH BY TALBOT BAINES REED CHAPTER ONE. MY INFANCY AND EDUCATION--HOW I WAS SOLD AND WHO BOUGHT ME. "Then you can guarantee it to be a good one to go?" "You couldn't have a better, sir." "And it will stand a little roughish wear, you think?" "I'm sure of it, sir; it's an uncommon strong watch." "Then I'll take it." These few sentences determined my destiny, and from that moment my career may be said to have begun. I am old, and run down, and good for nothing now; but many a time do I find my thoughts wandering back to this far-off day; and remembering all that has befallen me since that eventful moment, I humbly hope my life has not been one to disgrace the good character with which I went out into the world. I was young at the time, very young--scarcely a month old. Watches however, as every one knows, are a good deal more precocious in their infancy than human beings. They generally settle down to business as soon as they are born, without having to spend much of their time either in the nursery or the schoolroom. Indeed, after my face and hands had once been well cleaned, and a brand- new shiny coat had been put on my back, it was years before I found myself again called upon to submit to that operation which is such a terror to all mortal children. As to my education, it lasted just a week; and although I am bound to say, while it lasted, it was both carefully and skilfully managed, I did not at all fancy the discipline I was subjected to in the process. I used to be handed over to a creature who took me up and examined me (as if he were a policeman and a magistrate combined), and according as I answered his questions he exclaimed, "You're going too fast," or "You're going too slow," and with that he set himself to "regulate" me, as he called it. I was ordered to turn round, take off my coat, and submit my poor shoulders to his instrument of correction. But why need I describe this experience to boys? They know what "regulating" means as well as I do! Well in due time I profited by the instructions received, and one day my tutor, after the usual examination, grumpily told me, "You're right at last; you can go." And I did go, and I've been going ever since. The troubles of my infancy however were not all over. I discovered at a very early age that the one thing a watch is never allowed to do is to go to sleep. They'd as soon think of leaving an infant to starve as of letting a watch go to sleep. But to my story. Ever since I had left school--or, in other words, gone through my due course of regulation--I had remained shut up under a glass-case, lying comfortably upon a bed of purple velvet, and decorated with a little white label bearing the mysterious inscription, "Only Three Guineas." From this stately repose I was only once a day disturbed in order to be kept from sleeping, and had all the rest of my time to look about me and observe what went on in the world in which I found myself. It was not a big world indeed, but I could see I was not the only inhabitant. All around me were watches like myself, some of a golden complexion, and some--of which I was one--of a silvery. Some were big, and made an awful noise, and some were tiny, and just whispered what they had to say. Some were very proud, and showed off their jewels and chains in a way which made me blush for the vanity of my fellow- creatures--"dear" watches, the ladies called these, and others were as plain as plain could be. Every now and then our case would be opened, and one of my neighbours taken out and never put back. Then we knew he had been sold, and we who were left spent our time in gossiping about what had become of him, and speculating whose turn would come next. A gold repeater near me was very confident the turn would be his, and so impressed us with the sense of his "striking" importance and claims, that when the next time our glass house was entered, and a hand came groping in our direction, I at once concluded it was his summons into publicity and honour. Imagine my astonishment, then, when the hand, instead of reaching my gold neighbour, took hold of me and cautiously drew me out of the case! My heart leaped to my mouth--or whatever part of a watch's anatomy corresponds with that organ--and I was ready to faint with excitement. I had always imagined I was to lie in that case for years, but now, when I was barely a month old, here was I going out into the world. It made me quite bashful to listen to all the flattering things my master said of me. I was worth twice the price he was selling me at, he said; in fact, if trade had been good he would not have parted with me under three times that price. It was a relief to think the repeater could not overhear this, or he would have sneered in a way to extinguish me altogether. As it was, no other watch was by, so that I was not very much embarrassed. After turning me over, and feeling my pulse, and listening to the beating of my heart, and taking off my coat and waistcoat to inspect my muscle, my master's customer at last laid me down on the counter and pronounced the sentences with which I have begun my story. "Then I'll take it," he said, and pulled out his purse. "Stop a bit, though!" exclaimed he; "I'd better have a chain too, my little chap will think more of that than the watch. Let me see some silver chains, will you?" So my master went and fetched a tray containing a large number of tempting-looking chains. While he was gone my new owner took me up again in his hand and turned me over and put me to his ear; then as he laid me down again he smiled to himself and murmured. "Bless his little heart! how proud he'll be!" I was quite taken aback. Who was this taking upon himself to bless my little heart and prophesy that I should be proud? Then all of a sudden it occurred to me this remark may have been intended to refer not to me, but to the "little chap" the gentleman had just now spoken of. So I recovered my composure, especially when I saw what a kind, gentle face my purchaser had. He chose a neat, strong silver chain which was forthwith, in accordance with the barbarous practice of the age, fixed to my poor neck. I could not help sighing as I felt for the first time the burden of bondage. What had I done to be thus chained like a Roman captive, like a dog, like a parrot? But it was no use being in a rage. I swallowed my indignation as well as I could, and consoled myself with the reflection that every watch, even gold repeaters themselves, are subject to the same hardship. Ah! I was young then, and my knowledge of the world was small. Many a time since I have blessed the chain that held me, just as the ship, could it speak, would bless the cable that saved it from the rocks. Take the advice of an old ticker, you young watches, and instead of rebelling against your chains, rather hope they may be strong and sound in every link! "That will be just five pounds, won't it?" said my purchaser. "Here is a bank note. Never mind about doing it up, I'll just slip it into my pocket. Good-morning." And with that I was conscious of being lowered into a dark, deep pit, and without time to bid my comrades good-bye, or to take a last look at my old master, I felt myself hurried away I knew not whither. This, then, was my first step into the world. I lay untouched and apparently forgotten for several hours. Gradually getting my eyes accustomed to the darkness, and looking about me as far as I was able, I heard a ticking going on in a pocket not very far from the one I was in, which I at once concluded to proceed from the watch of my new master. Thinking I might be able to gain some information from him, I groped about till I found a small hole in my lodgings through which I was able to peep, and call. "Tick!" said I, as loud as I could, to secure the attention of my fellow-watch. "Who's that?" at once exclaimed the other. "I'm a new watch, bought to-day." "Humph! How much?" "Three guineas." "Chain and all?" "No; five pounds with the chain." "Humph, I cost thirty guineas. Never mind, you're for the boy." "What boy?" "The governor's. I heard him say he was going to get him one. That boy will be spoiled, as sure as I go on springs; he's made such a lot of. Have you been regulated?" "I should think I have!" exclaimed I, in indignant recollection of my education. "All right; keep your temper. What time are you?" "Seven minutes to six." "Wrong! It's seven and three-quarters!" "How do you know?" "Because that's what I make it." "How do you know you are right?" I asked, wondering at my own impudence in thus questioning an old ticker. "Look here, young fellow," said the other in an awful voice; "you don't seem to know you are addressing a gold watch that has neither gained nor lost a minute for five years! There! You may think yourself clever; but you're too fast." "I'm sure I beg your--" "That'll do!" said the offended veteran. "I want no more words." I was completely shut up at this, and retired back to my pocket very crestfallen. Presently I began to feel drowsy; my nerves seemed to get unstrung, and my circulation flagged. It was long after the time I had generally been in the habit of being wound up; and I began to be afraid I was really going to be left to go to sleep. That, by this time, I knew would be nothing short of a calamity. I therefore gave a slight tug at my chain. "What's the matter?" it said, looking down. "I've not been wound up." "I can't help that," said the chain. "Can't you let him know somehow?" I gasped, faintly. "How can I? He's busy packing up books." "Couldn't you catch yourself in his fingers or something? I'm in a bad way." "I'll see," said the chain. Presently I felt an awful tug at my neck, and I knew the chain had managed to entangle itself somehow with his fingers. "Hullo!" I heard my master exclaim, "I mustn't smash Charlie's chain before I give it to him. I'd better put it and the watch away in my drawer till the morning. Heigho! it'll be a sad day for me to-morrow!" As he spoke he drew me from the pocket, and, disengaging the chain from his button-hole, he laid us both in a drawer and shut it up. I was in despair, and already was nearly swooning from weakness. He had shut the drawer, and his hand was still on the knob, when all of a sudden he exclaimed,-- "By the way, I must wind it up, or it'll stop!" With what joy and relief I saw the drawer again opened, and felt myself taken out and wound up! Instantly new life seemed to infuse itself through my frame; my circulation revived, my nerves were strung again, and my drooping heart resumed its usual healthy throb. Little did my master think of the difference this winding up made to my health and comfort. "Now you're happy!" said the chain, as we found ourselves once more in the drawer. "Yes; I'm all right now, I'm glad to say," said I. "What's going to happen to us to-morrow?" I asked presently. "We're going to be given to the boy, and he's going to school;" so the silver chain told me. "Nice time we shall have of it, I expect." After that he went to sleep, and I fell to counting the seconds, and wondering what sort of life I was destined to lead. About an hour after I heard two voices talking in the room. "Well," said one, and I recognised it at once as my master's, "the packing's all finished at last." "Ah, Charles," said the other, and it seemed to be a woman's voice speaking amid tears, "I never thought it would be so hard to part with him." "Tut, tut!" said the first, "you mustn't give way, Mary. You women are so ready to break down. He'll soon be back;" but before my master had got to the end of his sentence he too had broken down. For a long time they talked about their boy, their fine boy who had never before left his parents' roof, and was about now to step out into the treacherous world. How they trembled for him, yet how proudly and confidently they spoke of his prospects; how lovingly they recalled all their life together, from the days when he could first toddle about, down to the present. Many tears were mingled with their talk, and many a smothered sob bespoke a desperate effort to subdue their common sorrow. At last they became quieter, then I heard my master say,-- "I positively have never shown you the watch I got for him," and with that he opened the drawer and produced me. "Oh, Charles," cried the mother, "how delighted he will be, and what a capital watch it is!" And she looked at me affectionately for a long time, for her son's sake, smiling through her tears, and then put me back. Need I say that as these two knelt together that night, their only son was not forgotten in their prayers? So ended the first day of my adventures. CHAPTER TWO. HOW I WAS PRESENTED TO A BOY, AND OF A CERTAIN JOURNEY WE TOOK TOGETHER. Very early next morning, when my hands scarcely pointed to five o'clock, the little household was astir. There was a noise of hurried going and coming, and of trunks being carried down stairs, and for the first time I heard mingled with the sedate voices of my master and his wife, another voice, cheery and musical, which I at once guessed to belong to my future lord and master. It was not till after this bustle had been going on for a good while that I was taken out of the drawer and put back into the pocket in which I had spent so many anxious hours the day before. But here I was destined not to remain long, as will be seen. Breakfast was a sad meal to that little family. Even the gay, high- spirited boy was sobered in anticipation of the coming parting, and as to his parents, they dared not open their lips for fear of breaking down. Then there was a rumbling of wheels in the street, and a banging about of boxes at the hall door; then a last long embrace between mother and son. She no longer resisted her grief, and he for the time forgot everything but her he was leaving; then father and son stepped into the cab and drove away. I felt the father's heart beating quicker and his chest heaving deeper as we proceeded. Presently his hand stole to the pocket where I lay hid, and he said-- "Charlie, boy, I've said all I have to say to you. You will remember our talk last night, I am sure, and I shall remember it too. I have no greater wish than to see my boy brave and honest and true to himself. Remember always I am your father, and never hesitate to tell me whenever you are in trouble, or danger, or--and I hope this won't often be--in disgrace. See here," said he, drawing me forth, "this is a watch which your mother and I have got for you. Think of us when you use it; and mind this, Charlie, make the best use of time, or time will become your enemy." The poor man faltered out these words with a half-broken heart, as he handed me to his son. The boy's eyes brightened and his face became radiant at the sight of his unexpected treasure. What boy does not covet a watch of his own at some time or other? "Oh, father!" he cried, "how good and kind of you! What a beauty!" The father smiled to see his son's delight, and helped to fasten the chain to his button-hole. "You and mother are bricks!" exclaimed Charlie, feasting his eyes upon me, and half wild with delight. "How _did_ you know I was longing to have one?" "Were you?" inquired the father. "Of course I was, and you knew it. What a swell I shall be! And it will always be sure to remind me of home." While this talk was going on I had leisure to examine my new owner. Picture to yourselves a curly-haired, bright-eyed boy of thirteen with honest, open face, good features, and winning smile. He is big for his age, and strongly built. At present his form is arrayed in a brand-new suit of grey; his collar is new and his tie is new, his boots are new and his socks are new; everything is new about him, down to the very guard of his hat, and he himself is the newest and purest of all. Was ever such a radiant young hero turned loose into the world? And now, over and above his other glories, he had me to crown all. The graceful curve of my chain on his waistcoat gave that garment quite a distinguished appearance, and the consciousness of a silver watch in his pocket made him hold his head even higher than usual. "He is a beauty!" again he broke out, "exactly the kind I like most. I'll take ever such a lot of care of him." And so saying, he began to swing me at the end of the chain, till I suddenly came sharply into collision with the door of the cab. "Hullo," exclaimed my young master, "that won't do. I'll put him away now. It _was_ good of you, father." With that we reached the railway station, and in the bustle that ensued I was for the time forgotten. Charlie's trunks were duly labelled for Randlebury, and then came the hardest moment of all, when father and son must part. "I wonder if you'll be altered, Charlie, when I see you again." "Not for the worse I hope, anyhow," replied the boy, laughing. "Tickets, please!" demanded the guard. "There goes the bell," said Charlie, pulling me out of his pocket. "They're very punctual. Hullo, we're off! Good-bye, father." "Good-bye, boy, and God bless you." And there was a close grasp of the hand, a last smile, a hasty wave from the window; and then we were off. How many grown-up men are there who cannot recall at some time or other this crisis in their lives, this first good-bye from the home of their childhood, this stepping forth into the world with all that is familiar and dear at their backs, and all that is strange and unknown and wonderful stretching away like a vast landscape before them? How many are there who would not give much to be back once more at that threshold of their career; and to have the chance of living over again the life they began there with such bright hopes and such careless confidence? Ah, if some of them could have seen whither that flower-strewn path was to lead them, would they not rather have chosen even to die on the threshold, than take so much as the first step forth from the innocent home of childhood! But I am wandering from my story. For half an hour after that last good-bye Charlie leaned back in the corner of his carriage and gave himself up to his loneliness, and I could feel his chest heaving to keep down the tears that would every now and then rise unbidden to his eyes. But what boy of thirteen can be in the dumps for long? Especially if he has a new watch in his pocket. Charlie was himself again before we had well got clear of London, and his reviving spirits gradually recalled to his memory his father's parting gift, which had for a while been half forgotten amid other cares. Now again I was produced, I was turned over and over, was listened to, was peeped into, was flourished about, was taken off my chain, and put on again with the supremest satisfaction. At every station we came to, out I came from his pocket, to be compared with the railway time. By the clock at Batfield I was a minute slow--a discrepancy which was no sooner discovered than I felt my glass face opened, and a fat finger and thumb putting forward my hand to the required time. At Norbely I was two minutes fast by the clock, and then (oh, horrors!) I found myself put back in the same rough-and-ready way. At Maltby I was full half a minute behind the great clock, and on I went again. At the next station the clock and I both gave the same time to a second, and then what must he do but begin to regulate me! After a minute calculation he made the astounding discovery that I had lost a minute and a quarter in four hours, and that in order to compensate for this shortcoming it would be necessary for him to move my regulator forward the two hundred and fortieth part of an inch. This feat he set himself to accomplish with the point of his scarf-pin while the train was jolting forward at the rate of thirty miles an hour! I began to grow nervous. If this was a sample of what I was to expect, I had indeed need be the healthy, hardy watch I was represented to be by my maker. And yet I could not be angry with my brave, honest little tormentor. It was a sight to see him during that long journey, in all the glory of a new suit, with a high hat on his head for the first time, and a watch in his pocket. _In_ his pocket, did I say? I was hardly ever so lucky. Every five minutes he whipped me out to see how the time was going. If he polished me up once with his handkerchief, he did it twenty times, and each time with such vigour that I was nearly red-hot under the operation. And no sooner was he tired of polishing me, than he took to paying his hat the same attention, till that wretched article of decoration must have trembled for its nap. Then he would take to whistling and singing (what boy can help doing one or the other in a train?) and as I heard all his little artless songs and gay chirping, I thought it the pleasantest music one could possibly listen to. And, not to let his hands be less busy than his throat, he would bring out the wonderful six-bladed knife his uncle had given him, and exploring all its wonders, and opening all its blades at the same time, together with the corkscrew, the gimlet, the pincers, and the button-hook, at different angles, would terrify the lives out of his fellow-passengers by twirling the awful bristling weapon in his fingers within a foot or so of their faces. "Mind, dear," said an old lady on the seat opposite, "you'll cut your fingers off, I'm certain." "Oh, no, I won't," exclaimed he, taking out his handkerchief, and beginning to polish the blades one after another. The old lady trembled as she watched him, and sighed with relief when the operation was over. Presently, having nothing particular to do, he stared at her. "Would you like to know the time, ma'am?" he inquired. "If you please," replied the good old soul. "Well, it's just seventeen minutes and nineteen seconds past three by my watch. Would you like to see for yourself, ma'am?" And, pleased to have a confidant of his possessions, he loosed my chain, and flourished me bodily before the eyes of his new friend. She took me kindly, and said, "What a fine watch you've got, dear?" "Yes," replied he, with lofty condescension; "like to see his works?" "You should be careful, you know," she said, "watches so easily get out of order." "Oh, I won't hurt it," said he, proceeding to take off my coat and waistcoat. "There! there are his works. Don't breathe hard, or you'll damp them." So the old lady held her breath and peeped in, much to my young master's gratification. "And so you're going to school, my man?" said she presently. "Yes; who told you! Did my father tell you?" "No, I guessed." "Did you though? Can you guess what the name of the school is?" "No, I can't do that." "Have a try." "Well, then, I guess Randlebury, because my boy is there, and it's the only one I can think of." The boy stared at her. "How ever did you know that?" "What!" she exclaimed, "you don't mean to tell me you _are_ going to Randlebury?" "I am, though." "Well, I never," cried the good old soul, "who would have believed it! Think of your going to the same school as my Tom." "Is Tom your boy's name?" "Yes." "Is he a nice boy?" Such a question to ask any one's mother! The old lady burst into tears instead of answering--a proceeding which greatly alarmed and disconcerted my master. "Don't cry," he said excitedly. "Look here! I didn't mean--oh, don't! Look here, shall I tell you the time? It's--it's sixteen minutes to four--I didn't mean, you know. Of course he's a nice boy--oh, don't cry!" And he got into such a state that the old lady dried her eyes at once. "Never mind me, dear," said she, "it wasn't you made me cry: it was thinking of my Tom. You'll be a good friend to him, won't you, dear?" "Perhaps he won't like me." "Now I'm sure he will," exclaimed the lady warmly; so warmly that I quite loved her for my little master's sake. Both were silent for some time, and then Charlie asked,-- "I say, has he got a watch?" "No." "Oh, never mind," said he, in a tone of evident relief, "I can tell him the time, you know, whenever he wants to know." "To be sure you can." Then Charlie took to polishing me and the chain up again, an occupation which lasted until we arrived at Gunborough Junction, where passengers changed for Randlebury. "Good-bye, dear," said the old lady, as Charlie proceeded to get together his things. "Good-bye," said he. "Would you like to know the time before I go? It's eight past five. Good-bye." "May I give you a kiss?" said she. Charlie blushed, but offered his cheek hurriedly. "And you promise to be a good friend to Tom," said she, kissing him, "won't you?" "All right," said the boy, jumping out on to the platform, and running to see after his luggage. In a moment however he returned to the window and put his head in. "I say," said he, "what's his name--Tom what?" "Drift," said the old lady, "Tom Drift!" "Oh!" replied my master, "all right, good-bye;" and next minute the train went on, and he was left standing surrounded by his luggage in the middle of the platform, like a lighthouse in the middle of an island. CHAPTER THREE. HOW MY MASTER AND I REACH RANDLEBURY IN STATE, AND OF A GREAT CALAMITY. My master and I had nearly an hour to wait on the platform at Gunborough before the Randlebury train came up. Part of this interval Charlie, for fear he might forget to do it at night, devoted to winding me up; an experiment which nearly closed my career for ever, for he first began to turn the key the wrong way; then, when he had discovered his mistake, he started in the other direction with a sudden dash, and finally overwound me to such an extent that I expected every second to hear my heart break with the strain. Then he sat on his boxes, whistling to himself and drumming his heels on the platform. The train came up at last, and in he jumped, finding himself and a grave elderly gentleman in joint possession of the carriage. Charlie was too busy staring out of the window, whistling, and brushing the dust off his new hat, to take much notice of his companion until the train was fairly started; then, observing the gentleman look at his watch, the boy at once recognised a bond of sympathy and pulled out me. "I wonder if I'm the same as you?" he said eagerly. "I hope you are not," said the gentleman, "for I'm a quarter of an hour fast." "Are you though?" said the boy, in astonishment. "Why don't you put it right? I would." "It's a bad thing to put a watch back, my boy; besides, I rather like keeping mine a little fast." "Do you? I say, do you think my watch is a good one?" said Charlie, thrusting me into the hands of his astonished travelling companion. "I can't say, my boy. I know nothing about watches. It looks a nice one." "Yes, father gave it me. I say, are you going to Randlebury?" "Yes." "Do you know the school? I'm going there." "Oh, yes; I know the school. And you are going there, are you?" inquired the gentleman, with interest. "Yes, I'm a new boy, you know." "And how do you like going to school?" "Oh, all right; only I don't know what it'll be like. Eat I say, I don't suppose there's many of the boys my age have got watches, do you?" The gentleman laughed. "I dare say not," he said. Charlie was silent for a time, and then asked,-- "I say, what sort of fellow's the head master; do you know?" "I've seen him now and then," said the gentleman. "Is he awfully stuck-up and strict?" asked the boy anxiously. "I really don't know," said the gentleman, biting his lips; "I hope not." "So do I. I wish my father was the head master," said Charlie, the tears for a moment starting to his eyes at the bare thought of such happiness. The gentleman looked at him very kindly, and said,-- "Cheer up, my little man; perhaps it won't be so bad after all." Charlie smiled again as he said,-- "Oh, yes, I've got to be brave, you know, because I promised father. But I say, if you ever come to the school, ask for me--my name's Charlie Newcome--will you? because I don't know any of the fellows; and besides," added he, brightening at the idea, "we can see if our watches are going the same, you know." The gentleman promised, and soon after this the train arrived at Randlebury. The boy bid his companion farewell, and went off as before to look after his belongings. As he was standing surrounded by his baggage, a man in the dress of a coachman came up to him and said,-- "Are you the young party from London for the school?" "Yes," replied the boy. "It's all right," said the man; "give us hold of these things, and jump inside my trap." "How far is it?" he asked of the man. "Better of three miles." "Is it, though? I say, can't you put the things inside, and then I can ride on the box?" "All square," said the man; "hop up, my young bantam." The young bantam did hop up, and they were soon on their way to the school. I need hardly say it was not long before Charlie and the driver were on confidential terms. The boy duly produced first me and then his six- bladed knife to the admiring eyes of his new companion, insisting on his taking both into his hands, and demanding his candid opinion on their merits. Presently a wholly new idea seemed to strike him. "I say, driver, what's your name?" "Jim, if you want to know," replied that public servant. "Well, Jim, I wish you'd just get inside and look after the luggage, and let me drive; will you?" The man opened his eyes and his mouth at the proposition, and then bursting out laughing. "Hark at him!" he exclaimed; "did you ever hear the like? Me get inside and let a young shaver like him drive me--ho! ho!" "Come along, Jim; I know the way; and it _would_ be a lark. Come on, _dear_ Jim." And the boy got quite affectionate in his eagerness. "Dear Jim," who was one of those easy-going men who don't take much persuading when they're approached the right way, at length consented to hand over the reins to Charlie; and after waiting some time to see for himself that the boy could really manage, after a fashion, to drive the horse, he further gratified him by descending from the box, and leaving him in sole possession of the coveted position. "Get inside, Jim," cried the boy, with beaming face. Jim, his face all one grin, obeyed, saying, as he did so,-- "Well, if you ain't a queer one! That's the house there, on the top of that hill. Mind how you go, now." "All right; you get inside. And I say, Jim," added the boy, leaning down from his perch, "make yourself comfortable, you know, and don't bother about me. I want to drive all by myself, and you aren't to help me a bit, mind." So the driver got inside, and seating himself among the luggage, proceeded to make himself "comfortable," as instructed. Meanwhile my master, as proud as an emperor, lashed his steed into a canter, and rattled off in the direction of the school. "That'll astonish some of them caps and gowns, I reckon," I heard cabby say to himself. "You see, if he don't drive us right up to the front door, as comfortable as if we was the sheriff of the county." You may imagine what was the astonishment of the grave and reverend authorities at Randlebury School when they perceived, coming up the carriage drive, a cab with a boy of thirteen perched on the box, tugging at the reins, hallooing to the horse, and making his whip crack like so many fireworks; while inside, comfortably lounging amid a pile of luggage, reclined cabby at his ease, grinning from ear to ear. The young Jehu, perfectly innocent of the sensation he was making, pursued his triumphant career at full speed up to the very hall door, pulling up his steed with such a sudden jerk as almost to bring him into a sitting position, while the piled-up luggage inside fell all about the cab with the shock, to the imminent risk of cabby's life. "Well, if that ain't one way of doing it, I don't know what is!" exclaimed that astonished charioteer, emerging from his precarious quarters. "Down you jump, young un." Charlie descended, all jubilant with triumph, and pulling out me, exclaimed, "We did that three miles in half an hour--not bad, was it?" In his excitement he had not observed that the door of the house had opened, and that these words, instead of being addressed to the cabby, had been spoken to a stately female who stood in the portal before him. Now however he caught sight of her, and not knowing exactly what was the proper thing to do under the circumstances, stared at her. "What do you say, young man?" inquired she, in a solemn voice. "Oh," said the boy, "I didn't know it was you. I was telling Jim we had come from the station in half an hour. You know we started at 6.2 by my watch, and it's just 6.33 now. Would you like to see for yourself, marm?" added he, preparing to unfasten the chain. "I know what the time is, young man," replied she sternly; "and pray, who is Jim?" she asked, looking down in solemn perplexity at this queer boy. "Oh, he's the driver is Jim, and he got inside, you know, and I've driven nearly all the way up by myself; haven't I, Jim?" "Come inside, sir," said the matron hurriedly, "and don't stand talking to vulgar cabmen and calling them by their Christian names. Your name is Charles Newcome, I suppose? Come this way." Charlie followed her in, his enthusiasm rather damped at this somewhat frigid greeting, and sorry in his heart he had not been allowed an opportunity of bidding farewell to his friend the driver. And now I could hear the little fellow's heart begin to beat quicker as he found himself at length for the first time in his life inside a public school. The rows of caps in the corridors, the distant hum of voices through half-opened doors, the occasional shout from the playground, and the fleeting vision of a master in cap and gown, all had for him the deepest and most mysterious interest. As he sat waiting in the matron's room while that worthy lady went to superintend the bringing in of his luggage, his mind became full of wonderings and misgivings. I who lay so near the seat of his emotions could tell what was going on in his breast. He wondered if the pair of socks lying on the table with a hole in each heel, which appeared to be waiting their turn for mending, belonged to the son of the old lady he had met in the train. He wondered if the footsteps in the passage belonged to the head master, and whether that awful being was being fetched to punish him for his crime of driving the cab. He wondered who the boy was who put his head in at the door and drew it back again. With what reverential eyes he followed that hero's retreating form, and how he hung on his whistling. When would _he_, he wondered, be sufficiently hardy to whistle within those awful walls? Then he wondered if he was the only new boy, and if so, whether every one would stare at him and laugh at his new coat. He wished he'd got his old one on, then he wouldn't have felt so brand-new. And then--and then... But here, tired-out with his long journey and the excitement of the day, a drowsy fit came over him, and without another thought he dropped off to sleep, where he sat. In this attitude the housekeeper found him when she returned. She could not help feeling rather more than a common interest in this curly-haired, tired-out little fellow, as he sat there in his new clothes, huddled up, with his little hat slipping from his head, and his hand clasping his precious six-bladed knife. Accustomed as she was to boys and their rude ways, this matron had a good deal of softness left in her heart, and I dare say she thought as she watched Charlie that afternoon that if she had ever had a son of her own she would have liked a boy something like the little fellow before her. She went softly up to him, took his hat from its perilous situation, and, lifting him in her strong arms so gently as not to wake him, laid him on her own sofa, and left him there to enjoy his well-merited sleep, while she busied herself about making tea. It was at this moment that a calamity befell me, which, in my inexperience of the ways and natures of watches, I imagined to be nothing short of fatal. The excitement through which I had passed, and the rough-and-ready usage to which I had been subjected during the day, seemed all of a sudden to overpower me. In some unaccountable way I found my hands caught together in a manner I had never known them to be before; no effort of mine could disengage them, and the exertion thus required, added to the fatigues of the day, produced a sort of paralysis of my whole system without quite losing consciousness. I could feel my circulation become slower and finally stop; my nerves and energies became suspended, and my hands grew numb and powerless. Even my heart ceased to beat, and the little cry of alarm which I gave just before my powers left me failed to bring me any help. I was ill, very ill indeed; to me it seemed as if my last moment had come, and I could not bear the thought of thus early being taken from my young master, whom already I had learned to love as my best, though my roughest friend. How long I lay thus, speechless and helpless, I cannot say. Once I was just conscious of a slight jerk from my chain as he peeped in and whispered,-- "What are you so quiet about down there?" Of course I could not answer. "Do you hear? What are you so quiet about?" It only added to my misery to know that there was a fellow-being so close at hand, and yet that I was powerless to make him aware of my condition. My silence offended him, for he turned away, muttering to himself,-- "Sulky humbug! I declare some people haven't so much as the manners of a kitchen clock." After that I was left to myself, in agony and suspense, to wait the moment of my dissolution. A long time passed before my master stirred, and when he did the housekeeper's tea was cold. She bustled about to make him some more, and was so kind in buttering his toast and hunting for some jam, that the drooping spirits of the tired-out boy revived wonderfully. Indeed, as the meal proceeded he became on friendly and confidential terms even with so awful a personage as Mrs Packer. "Would you like to see my knife, ma'am?" he asked. "Bless me, what a knife it is," cried the lady. "You'll go doing yourself some harm with it." "That's what the other old lady in the train said," replied Charlie, unconscious of wounding the feelings of his hostess, who fondly imagined she was not more than middle-aged; "but then, you know, she thought it was a fine knife, and I think so too, don't you? I say, marm, do you know Tom Drift?" The change of subject was so sudden that Mrs Packer stared at the boy, half wondering whether he was not talking in his sleep. "What about him?" she inquired. "Oh, only the old lady was his mother, and I promised her--at least she said--do you know Tom Drift, ma'am?" "To be sure; he's one of the boys here." "Yes--I say, ma'am, might I see Tom Drift, do you think? I've got something to say to him." Mrs Packer, wholly at a loss to understand her youthful guest, but at the same time disposed to be indulgent to his little whims, said Tom would be at lessons now, and she didn't think he would be able to come. "Wouldn't it do in the morning?" "Oh no," said Charlie, with the gravest face. "I must see him to-night, please, if you don't mind." The housekeeper concluded that Charlie had some important message from the mother to her son, and therefore rang for a servant, whom she despatched with a message to Master Drift that some one wanted to see him. In a very little time that hero made his appearance; and as he was the first Randlebury boy Charlie had set eyes on, he appeared for a moment a very awful and a very sublime personage in that little new boy's eyes. But Charlie was too intent on his mission to allow himself to be quite overawed. "Here's a new boy, Master Drift, wants to speak to you." "What do you want, young un--eh?" "Oh, it's all right, Tom Drift; only I saw your mother, you know, in the train, and she said you were a nice boy, and she sent her love, and I told her I'd let you know the time whenever you wanted, because you ain't got a watch, you know, and I have. I say, would you like to know the time now, Tom Drift?" All this was rattled out with such eager volubility, that Tom Drift, hero as he was, was fairly taken aback, and looked quite sheepish, as the beaming boy proceeded to pull me out of his pocket. "Well, it's just--hullo!" He saw in an instant something was wrong. "Why, it says only half-past six--that must be wrong!" "It's eight o'clock by the hall clock," said Mrs Packer; "it's just now struck." Charlie looked at me, opened me, held me to his ear, and then exclaimed,-- "Oh! my watch has stopped! My watch has stopped! What shall I do?" and the poor boy, overwhelmed with his misfortune, held me out appealingly, and scarcely restrained the tears which started to his eyes. CHAPTER FOUR. HOW I WAS CURED OF MY AILMENTS, AND HOW MY MASTER BEGAN LIFE AT RANDLEBURY. All this while Tom Drift had said nothing, but had stood regarding first my master, and then me, with mingled amusement, pity, and astonishment. At last, when poor Charlie fairly thrust me into his hands, that he might see with his own eyes the calamity which had befallen the watch that had been destined to minister such consolation to his time- inquiring mind, he took me gingerly, and stared at me as if I had been a toad or a dead rat. "Can't you make it go, Tom Drift? Please do." "How can I make him go? I don't know what's the row." "Do you think it would be a good thing to wind it up?" asked Charlie. "Don't know; you might try." Charlie did wind me up; but that was not what I wanted. Already I had had that done while waiting at Gunborough Junction. "What do you say to shaking him?" asked Tom Drift presently. Most people spoke of me as "it," but Tom Drift always called me "him." "I hardly like," said Charlie; "_you_ try." Tom took me and solemnly shook me; it was no use. I still remained speechless and helpless. "Suppose we shove his wheels on?" next suggested that sage philosopher. Charlie demurred a little at this; it seemed almost too bold a remedy, even for him; however he yielded to Tom's superior judgment. The heir of the house of Drift accordingly took a pin from the lining of his jacket, and, taking off my coat and waistcoat, proceeded first to prod one of my wheels and then another, but in vain. They just moved for an instant but then halted again, as stiff end lifeless as ever. For a moment the profound Tom seemed baffled, and then at last a brilliant idea occurred to him. "I tell you what, I expect he's got damp, or cold, or something. We'd better warm him!" And the two boys knelt before the fire with me between them, turning me at the end of my chain so as to get the warmth on all sides, like a leg of mutton on a spit. Of course that had no effect. What was to be done? No winding up, no shaking, no irritation of my wheels with a pin, no warming of me at the fire, could avail anything. They were ready to give me up. Suddenly, however, Tom, who had been examining my face minutely, burst into a loud laugh. "What a young donkey you are!" he cried. "Don't you see his hands are caught? That's what's the matter. The minute-hand's got bent, and can't get over the hour hand. You're a nice chap to have a watch!" It might have occurred to Charlie (as it did to me) that whatever sort of watch-owner the former might be, a boy who successively shook, tickled, and roasted me to get me to go, was hardly the one to lecture him on his failings; but my master was too delighted at the prospect of having his treasure cured to be very critical of the physician. And this time, at last, Tom Drift had found the real cause of my indisposition. In endeavouring to pass one another at half-past six, my two hands had become entangled, and refusing to proceed in company, had stopped where they were stopping my circulation and indeed my animation at the same time. Once more the astute Tom produced his pin; and sticking it under the end of my minute-hand, disengaged it from its fellow and bent it back into its proper position. Instantly, as if by magic, the life rushed back into my body; my circulation started afresh, and my heart beat its old beat. Charlie set up a shout of jubilation, and almost hugged Tom in his gratitude. The latter looked very wise and very condescending--as had he not a right?--and, handing me back to my master, said, with the air of a physician prescribing a course of treatment for a convalescent patient,-- "You'd better shove him on to the right time, and then keep him quiet, young un." This Charlie did, and it would be hard to say which of us two was the happier at that moment. I had scarcely been deposited once more into my accustomed pocket, when a loud bell sounded down the corridors, and made Tom Drift jump as if he had been shot. "I say, that's the prayer-bell! Come on! unless you want to get into a jolly row." And without further words he seized the astonished Charlie by the arm, and ran with him at full speed along one or two empty passages, dashing at last in through a big door, which was in the very act of closing as the two reached it. Charlie was so confused, and so out of breath with this astonishing and frantic race, that for a minute he did not know whether he was standing on his head or his heels. There was, however, no time for solving the problem just then, for Tom Drift, still retaining his grasp on his arm, dragged him forward, whispering,-- "This way; wasn't that a close shave? Get in here, and don't make a noise." Charlie obeyed, and found himself in a pew, one of a congregation of some two hundred boys, assembled in the school chapel for evening prayers. At the far end of the chapel he could hear a man's voice, reading; but what it said it was impossible for him to make out, owing to the talking that was going on around him. He looked eagerly and curiously down the long rows of his new schoolfellows, feeling half afraid at the sight of so many new faces, and half proud of being a Randlebury boy, with a right to a seat in the chapel. And as he looked he saw some faces he thought he should like, and some that he thought he would dislike; there were merry, bright-eyed boys, like himself, and there were ill-tempered, sullen-looking boys; there were boys haggard with hard-reading, and boys who looked as if their heads were altogether empty. But what puzzled and troubled Charlie not a little was to notice, that though the school was supposed to be at prayers, and though most of them must have been within hearing of the reader's voice, a considerable proportion of the boys before him were neither listening nor evincing in their behaviour the slightest sign of reverence for the service in which they were engaged. He was sorry to see that Tom Drift was laughing and whispering with his companions; entertaining them with an account of the way in which he had set the new "young un's" watch to rights, and what a shave they had from being shut out from prayers. (Charlie wondered, as he noticed all this, whether, after all, he would have lost much good if that misfortune had happened.) And one or two boys were chewing toffee; at least, Charlie thought it must be toffee, their mouths were so brown, and they made such a noise over the process of mastication; some, with their hands in their pockets, were listlessly staring up at the roof; and some were reading books, anything but prayer-books, under the desk. Charlie did his best to attend to what the invisible and inarticulate voice was saying, and tried to recall what his father had told him about not letting new scenes and new companions tempt him to forget of neglect the lessons of duty and religion which he had learned at his parents' home; but it was not easy work, and to him it was a relief when all was over, and the boys proceeded to file out of the chapel. "Where are they all going?" he inquired, turning round to where Tom Drift had been standing. That young man, however, was no longer there. He had gone off to enjoy the questionable luxury of roast potatoes in a friend's study, entirely forgetting his young and forlorn charge. Charlie was puzzled. He was sure he could never find his way back to Mrs Packer's through such a maze of passages, and he knew not where else to go. As he stood watching in despair the last remnant of his fellow- worshippers passing out, and wondering what was to become of him, he became aware of two big boys stopping in front of him and looking at him. "That's him!" said one, whose grammar was perhaps not his strongest point at this moment. "Why, he's only a kid!" said the other, who, being sixteen, felt fully justified in so designating my young master. "I can't help that, I know it's him," said the first. "I say, you fellow," added he, addressing Charlie, "wasn't it you drove up to the front door in a cab this afternoon?" Charlie trembled in his shoes. More than once had his heart misgiven him, he had committed an unpardonable offence in the mode of his advent to Randlebury; and now, with these two awful accusers before him, he felt as if his doom was come. "I'm very sorry," he began; "yes, it was--I didn't mean, I'm sure." "What did you do it for, if you didn't mean, you young muff?--why don't you go off to bed?" "Because I don't know where to go, and Tom Drift--" "Do you know Tom Drift?" "Yes--that is, I met his mother," stammered Charlie, becoming more and more embarrassed. Both the big boys burst out laughing. "What a treat for his mother!" said one. "I suppose she told you Tom was a real nice boy?" "Yes." "I thought so; so he is, isn't he, Joe?" and both boys laughed again. "And she gave you a kiss to take to him?" "No," said Charlie, blushing scarlet; "she did give me a kiss, but not for him." It was a hard effort for the poor boy to come out with this admission, but candour compelled it. "Oh, she gave you one for yourself, did she?" and again they laughed. "What a dear old noodle she must be!" "She was very kind to me," said Charlie, not liking to hear his friend made fun of. Just then a master came by. "What are you three boys doing here?" he asked. "Please, sir, this is a new boy," replied he who had been called Joe, "and he doesn't know where to go." "Hum!" said the master, "I thought Mrs Packer would have seen after that. Let me see. You had better take him to your dormitory to-night, Halliday; there's a vacant bed there. Bring him to the doctor's room after breakfast to-morrow," and he passed on. "Here's a treat!" exclaimed Joe, with a not ill-natured grin. "This comes of stopping and talking to young scarecrows. Come along, youngster; think yourself lucky you've been handed over to me. I wear patent leather boots, and they don't need as much blacking as some of the fellows'." Charlie was at a loss to understand what the material of Master Halliday's boots had to do with his own alleged good fortune in falling into the hands of such a guardian; but he said nothing, and, reassured by the good-humoured face of his conductor, followed him cheerfully from the chapel. "Hullo, Joe! got a donkey at last?" cried some one, as the two wended their way up the stairs leading to the dormitories. "Looks like it," was Joe's reply. It was not very long before Charlie learned that the four-footed beast thus vaguely referred to was a polite term which the big boys at Randlebury used to designate their fags. "Come in here," said his conductor, turning in at a small door. Charlie found himself inside a small apartment, measuring about ten feet square, lighted by a small window, warmed by a small fire, decorated with a small bookcase, and furnished with a small table, two small chairs, and a small cupboard. "This is my den; and mind when you clean the window you don't crack that pane more than it is; and when you brush my things, you know, see the shelf isn't dirty, because I sometimes keep my worms there--do you hear? And now come along to bed; they put out lights at half-past nine." The mention of the time recalled me instinctively to Charlie's thoughts. He could not resist the temptation, suggested half by anxiety and half by vanity, of taking me out and looking at me. "Hullo! What, have you got a watch?" "Yes," said Charlie meekly, not exactly knowing whether his companion would be admiring or indignant with him. "More than I have," was all Joe's rejoinder. Charlie's generosity was at once touched. "Oh, never mind, we can go shares sometimes, if you like, you know," said he, not without an effort. "I don't want your watch," was Master Halliday's somewhat ungracious reply. "Let's have a look at it, will you?" He took me, and examined me; and evidently would not have objected to be the possessor of a watch himself, though he tried to make it appear it was a matter of indifference to him. "Why don't you get your father to give you one?" asked Charlie innocently. "Because I haven't got a father." "Not got a father! Oh, I am sorry!" and the starting tears in the little fellow's eyes testified only too truly to his sincerity. "Look here," he added, "do take the watch, please; perhaps you would like it, and my father would give me another." Joe Halliday gazed at his young fag in amazement. "Why, you are a queer chap," he said. "I wouldn't take your watch for anything; but I tell you what, I'll ask you the time whenever I want to know." "Will you really?" cried the delighted Charlie. "How jolly!" "And look here," continued Halliday, "take my advice, and don't go offering your watch to everybody who hasn't got a father, or some of them might take you at your word, and then you'd look foolish. Come along now." And he led the boy into the dormitory, where there were about twenty beds, most of them already occupied by boys, and the rest waiting for occupants, who were rapidly undressing in different parts of the room. "Look sharp and tumble in," said Joe, pointing out the bed Charlie was to have. "There's only five minutes more." Charlie, with all the naturalness of innocence, knelt, as he was always used to do, and said his prayers, adding a special petition for his dear absent parents, and another for the poor boy who hadn't got a father. He was wholly unaware of the curiosity he had excited by his entrance into the dormitory, still less did he imagine the sensation which his simple act of devotion was creating. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at the unwonted spectacle of a boy saying his prayers, and many were the whispered comments which passed from lip to lip. No one however (had any been so inclined) stirred either to disturb or molest him--an immunity secured to him as much perhaps by the fact of his being under the protection of so redoubtable a champion as Halliday as by any special feeling of sympathy for his act. The good example was not, however, wholly lost, for that same night, after the lights were out, and when silence reigned in the room, more than one boy covered his head with his sheet and tried to recall one of the early prayers of his childhood. As for Charlie, with me and the knife under his pillow, he slept the sleep of the just, and dreamt of home; and I can answer for it his weary head never turned once the livelong night. CHAPTER FIVE. HOW MY MASTER ENTERED AND QUITTED THE HEAD MASTER'S STUDY TWICE IN ONE MORNING. Charlie's first care in the morning was, as I need hardly say, to pull me out from under his pillow, and consult me as to the time. None of his companions were astir, so that, not having anything particular to do, he lay still, and abandoned himself to the luxury of an idle half- hour in bed. His spirits were so greatly revived by his night's rest that he forgot both the novelty and the loneliness of his position, and fell to polishing first his knife and then me as merrily as if he were at home. What a difference a sound sleep often makes in the aspect of our affairs! Twelve hours ago he had felt as if he could never be sufficiently bold as to whistle within the walls of Randlebury, and now the first sight and sound which greeted Halliday's returning senses, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes, was his young _protege_ whistling to himself like a lark, and brightening me up with all his might with the corner of his blanket till I glowed again at nearly a red heat. "Who's that kicking up that row whistling?" growled a voice from the far end of the room; "because I'd like to shy a boot at his head." At this Charlie subsided, not desiring to gratify his unknown auditor in his benevolent desire, and very soon after jumped up and dressed himself. "Look here, youngster," said Joe, "you'd better do my study now, as you mayn't have time after breakfast to-day. You know which room it is--the sixth on your right when you get downstairs. Cut along, look sharp, you've a good half-hour." Charlie made his way down to the lion's den, meeting on his way several other discontented fags, bound on similar errands. He set himself to clean the window, tidy the cupboard, and generally put things square, and had succeeded fairly well in this endeavour by the time his patron made his appearance. "What's the time?" inquired that lord of creation, running his eye rapidly round the room at the same time, to notice how his fag had done his duty. "It's five minutes to eight," replied Charlie, after consulting me, and highly delighted to be thus appealed to. "Come along to breakfast, then. You'll have to sit at a different table from me; but mind and wait for me afterwards, for I've got to take you to the doctor." So Charlie was conducted down to the hall to breakfast, and provided with a humble seat at the foot of the lowest table, while Joe Halliday made his way with all the dignity that became his years to a distinguished place at the highest. My master found himself among a set of noisy little boys, who amused themselves during the greater part of the meal by interchanging volleys of bread pellets, which much oftener missed their marks than reached them, in consequence of which he himself came in for the brunt of the cannonade. Once he ventured to return one of the random shots which had found its way to his fingers. Fortune favoured his aim, and his shaft hit the boy it was intended for full in the eye. "Who did that?" cried the wounded hero sharply. "I did," replied Charlie, quite proud of his achievement. "All right, I'll punch your head for it when we get outside." This was by no means what Charlie had expected. He had imagined the wound would be received in the same spirit of jest in which it was aimed. "It was only in fun," he explained; "did it hurt you?" "Of course it did," exclaimed the injured youth, who till Charlie's arrival had been the junior pupil of the school, and was now delighted to find some one below himself in the scale of seniority. "Of course it did, and you'll catch it." All the other boys laughed, and Charlie, who could not find it in him to be overawed by even so majestic a hero as little Master Johnny Walker, made the best of his position. "Look here," he said, "I'll give you three shots at my mouth, and if you--" "There's too much talking at table six!" exclaimed an awful voice, and instantly every voice was hushed, including Charlie's, who blushed to the roots of his hair, and felt as if he had been singled out before the whole school as a rioter. He gulped down his breakfast without further argument with Master Walker, and was relieved, when the meal was over, to find that that doughty warrior appeared to have altered his mind about punching his youthful head. After some time he saw Halliday beckoning to him from the other side of the room. "Now you've got to go to the doctor," said he; "come along." This was the first time my master had fully realised the solemn nature of the approaching interview, and I felt his heart flutter as he inquired,-- "I say, what will he say to me?" "Oh, all sorts of things; you'd better mind what you're up to, I can tell you," was the reassuring reply. "Do you think I shall get in a row for driving the cab yesterday?" faltered Charlie. "Shouldn't wonder," was the reply. "Oh, dear! And do you think he saw me hit Johnny Walker in the eye at breakfast?" "What, were you the boy who was kicking up all that row? My eye! you're in for it! Here you are; I'll knock for you." And giving the poor trembling boy not so much as an instant in which to collect his flurried ideas, Joe gave a rap at the door, which was answered at once by a sharp "Come in!" from within. "Now then," said Halliday, "in you go." Charlie's knees shook under him, and he hung back from that awful door in mute terror. "Come in!" again cried the voice. "Do you hear, you young muff?" exclaimed Halliday. "Won't you catch it! Go in, will you?" And opening the door himself he fairly pushed my poor master into the head master's study. Fancy the agony of the poor boy, fully believing himself a doomed miscreant, entering for the first time the awful presence of the head master of Randlebury School. He stood there with downcast eyes, not daring to speak, and rooted to the spot. "Why, what's the matter, my boy?" At the words Charlie started like one electrified. He had surely heard that voice before somewhere! He looked up, and what was his astonishment to find in his dreaded principal no other than the gentleman with whom he had yesterday spent such a friendly hour in the train between Gunborough and Randlebury! And his face was as kind as ever, and his voice encouraging, as he repeated,-- "What's the matter, my man? has the watch stopped." "Oh, sir," said Charlie, running up to him, "I am glad it's you, and I'm so sorry I drove the cab, and hit Walker in the eye. I'll never do it again!" "Tut, tut," said the head master; "if you never do any worse than that, you won't go far wrong. I didn't tell you who I was yesterday, because I wanted you to manage for yourself, and fight your own battle on first arriving. Now tell me how you have got on." And Charlie faithfully recounted to him everything, including my sudden indisposition, and my cure by Tom Drift. Dr Weldon (for that was his name) listened to his story, and then said,-- "Well, you've made a pretty good beginning. Now try to remember this: your father has sent you here for two reasons; one is that your head may be furnished, and the other is that your character may be trained. I and your teachers can undertake the first; but it depends chiefly on you how the second succeeds. You will constantly be having to choose for yourself between what is right and what is wrong, and between what is true and what is false. Take the advice of one who has passed through all the temptations you are likely to meet here--rely always on a wisdom that is better than your own, and when once you see which way duty calls, follow that way as if your life depended on it. Do this, and you'll turn out a far better man than the man who is talking to you. Whenever you are in trouble come to me, I shall always be glad to see you. I promised you, you know, I would ask for you occasionally, didn't I? And now let's see what you've got in your head." And then followed a brief examination, conducted in a way which put Charlie quite at his ease, and so enabled him to acquit himself with a fair amount of credit and win from his master a commendation, which he prized not a little, for it was that his father's efforts had not been wasted on him. "You will be put in the second-form," said the doctor, "and if you work hard, I see no reason why you should not get up into the third next midsummer. Now, good-bye. I hope you won't find the head master of Randlebury is as `stiff and stuck-up a fellow' as you dreaded, and I trust I shall find you as honest and brave a fellow as I hoped you would turn out the first time I saw you. Good-bye." Charlie rose to leave with overflowing heart. He even forgot in the midst of his pleasant emotion to inquire, as he had fully intended to do, after the doctor's watch, and if it was still a quarter of an hour fast. As he left the room he could not help contrasting with thankfulness his present state of mind with that in which he had entered it an hour ago. He laughed at himself for all his foolish fears then, and as for the future, that seemed now ever so much easier and brighter. Outside the door he found Tom Drift passing along the corridor in a state of great excitement. "The very chap, I declare," cried he. "I say, lend us your watch, young un, will you?" "What for?" asked Charlie. "Only a time race. Tom Shadbolt says he can run a mile in 4.40. I say he can't do it under 4.50, and we've got a bet of half-a-crown a side upon it. So lend us your watch to time him by." Charlie hesitated, and a pang passed through his breast. He knew that one of the things which he had promised his father was that he would have nothing to do with betting or gambling in any form, and how could he obey in this respect if he now lent me for the purpose for which I was required? And yet he owed Tom Drift no common gratitude for the good service he had done in setting me right yesterday, and surely if any one had a right to borrow me it was he. The struggle was a sore one, but soon decided. "I can't lend it you, Tom Drift." "Why ever not?" asked Tom sharply. "I'm very sorry; if it had been anything else--but I promised father I would not gamble." "Young ass! who wants you to gamble? I only want you to lend us your watch." "_You_ are gambling, though," said Charlie timidly. "And what's that got to do with you, you young idiot," exclaimed Drift, fairly losing his temper, "if I am?" "I'm very sorry," said Charlie, "especially as you put it all right. If it was anything else; but I can't for this." "Look here," said Drift in a fury, "we've had fooling enough. Hand me the watch this moment, or I'll take it and smash it, and you into the bargain!" "Oh, Tom Drift, don't do that. I would so gladly for anything else, but I promised father--" "Once more, will you, or will you not?" "I can't." "Then take that!" and next moment Charlie received a blow full on the chest, which sent him staggering back against the wall. Oh, how he wished that moment he had never owned me! Tom came upon him with an angry oath, and seized him by the throat. "Will you give it up?" "No," replied Charlie. He was fairly roused now; no boy--certainly no boy of his sort--can stand quietly by and receive undeserved blows. Tom tightened his grip on the boy's throat, and strove to snatch me from his pocket. Quick as thought Charlie threw his arms round him, and, though the smaller boy of the two, extricated himself from the clutch of the bully, and sent him in turn staggering back. Livid with rage, Tom rushed at him; but Charlie eluded him, and left him to overbalance himself and fall sprawling on the paved floor. At this instant the doctor's door opened, and the head master stood gazing on the scene. Poor Charlie! five minutes ago so full of bright hopes and brave resolutions, and now, under the eyes of the very man who had inspired in him those hopes and resolutions, engaged in a common fight with a schoolfellow! "What is all this?" asked the doctor sternly. "Come in here, you two." Charlie, with sinking heart, entered again that solemn room, and Drift followed, sulky, and with a black bruise on his forehead. Charlie left his antagonist to tell his story after his own fashion, and was too dispirited either to contradict him or seek to justify himself. He felt ashamed of himself, and in his self-humiliation saw neither defence nor extenuation for his conduct. Drift was dismissed with a few sharp words of reproof and warning. Charlie remained longer. What the doctor said to him, and what he said to the doctor, I need not here repeat. Suffice it to say, the former was able to form a fairer estimate of my master's conduct than he himself was. He did not blame him; he even told him that no boy could expect to get through his school days without some blows, and advised him to see they were always on the right side. He talked to him long and seriously about home, and so comforted him in prospect of future difficulties and temptations, that when he left that study the second time, it was as a wiser, though perhaps a sadder boy than before. CHAPTER SIX. HOW MY MASTER HAD BOTH HIS FRIENDS AND HIS ENEMIES AT RANDLEBURY. The events of Charlie's first day at Randlebury had at least taught him one salutary lesson, and that was, to moderate his enthusiasm with regard to me, and consequently for the next few weeks I had a quiet time of it. True enough, my master would occasionally produce me in confidence to a select and admiring audience, and would ever and again proffer the use of me to his protector, Joe Halliday, but he gave up flourishing me in the face of every passer-by, and took to buttoning his jacket over the chain, I found my health all the better for this gentler usage, and showed my gratitude by keeping perfect time from one week's end to the other. It is hardly necessary for me to say that Charlie was not long in making friends at Randlebury. Indeed some of his acquaintance looked upon this exceeding friendliness in the boy's disposition as one of his weak points. "I do believe," said Walcot, who was only four from the head of the school, to his friend, Joe Halliday, one day, about a month after my master's arrival at Randlebury--"I do believe that young fag of yours would chum up to the poker and tongs if there were no fellows here." "Shouldn't wonder," said Joe. "He's a sociable young beggar, and keeps my den uncommon tidy. Why, only the other day, when I was in no end of a vicious temper about being rowed about my Greek accents, you know, and when I should have been really grateful to the young scamp if he'd given me an excuse for kicking him, what should he do but lay wait for me in my den with a letter from his father, which he insisted on reading aloud to me. What do you think it was about?" "I couldn't guess," said Walcot. "Well, you must know he's lately chummed up very thick with my young brother Jim in the second, and--would you believe it?--he took it into his head to sit down and write to his governor to ask him if he would give Jim and me each a watch like the one he's got himself. What do you think of that?" "Did he, though?" exclaimed Walcot, laughing. "I say, old boy, you'll make your fortune out of that youngster; and what did his father say?" "Oh, he was most polite, of course; his boy's friends were his friends, and all that, and he finished up by saying he hoped we should both come and spend Christmas there." "Ha! ha! and did he send the watches?" "No; I suppose he wants to spy out the land first." "Well," said Walcot, "the boy's all right with you, but he'll go making a fool of himself some day if he makes up to everybody he meets." My master, in fact, was already a popular boy with his fellows. He had a select band of admirers among the youth of the Second-Form, who cackled round him like hens round a bantam. Together they groaned over their Latin exercises and wrestled with their decimals; together they heard the dreaded summons to the master's desk; and side by side, I am sorry to say, they held out their open palms to receive his cane. If a slate bearing on its surface an outline effigy of the gentleman who presided over the lessons of the class was brought to light, and the names of its perpetrators demanded, Charlie's hand would be seen among a forest of other upraised, ink-stained hands, and he would confess with contrition to having contributed the left eye of the unlucky portrait. And if, amid the solemn silence which attended a moral discourse from the master on the evils of gluttony, a sudden cataract of nuts, apples, turnips, and jam sandwiches on to the floor should drown the good man's voice, Charlie would be one of the ill-starred wights who owned to a partnership in the bag of good things which had thus miserably burst, and would proceed with shame first to crawl and grope on the dusty floor to collect his contraband possessions, and then solemnly to deposit the same jam, turnips, and all, on the desk of the offended dominie as a confiscated forfeit. By these and many other like experiences Charlie identified himself with his comrades, and established many and memorable bonds of sympathy. He took the allegiance of his followers and the penalties of his masters in equal good part. He was not the boy to glory in his scrapes, but he was the boy to get into them, and once in, no fear of punishment could make a tell-tale, a cheat, or a coward of him. With the elder boys he was also a favourite, for what big boy does not take pride in patronising a plucky, frank youngster? Patronising with Charlie did not mean humiliation. It is true he would quake at times in the majestic company of the heroes of the Sixth Form, but without hanging his head or toadying. It is one thing to reverence a fellow- being, and another to kneel and lick his boots. Altogether Charlie had what is called "fallen on his feet" at Randlebury. By the end of two months he was as much at home there as if he had strutted its halls for two years. His whistle was as shrill as any in the lobbies, and Mrs Packer stuck her fingers in her ears when he burst into her parlour to demand a clean collar. He had already signalised himself too on the cricket field, having scored one run (by a leg-bye) in the never-to-be-forgotten match of First Form, First Eleven, against Second-Form, Second Eleven; and he had annihilated the redoubtable Alfred Redhead in the hundred yards hopping match, accomplishing that distance in the wonderfully short time of forty-five seconds! But the dearest of all his friends was Jim Halliday, his lord and master's young brother. To Jim, Charlie opened his own soul, and me, and the knife; with Jim he laid his schemes for the future, and arranged, when he was Governor-General of India and Jim was Prime Minister, he would swop a couple of elephants for one of Ash and Tackle's best twenty-foot fishing-rods, with a book of flies complete. With Jim, Charlie talked about home and his father, and the coming holidays, till his face shone with the brightness of the prospect. Nor was the faithful Jim less communicative. He told Charlie all about his sisters down at Dullfield, where his father had once been clergyman, and gave it as his opinion that Jenny was the one Charlie had better marry; and to Charlie he imparted, as an awful secret not to be so much as whispered to any one, that he (Jim) was going to array his imposing figure for the first time in a tail-coat at Christmas. With two friends on such a footing of confidence, is it a wonder they clave one to the other in mute admiration and affection? Many a sumptuous supper, provided at the imminent peril of embargo by the authorities on the one hand, and capture by hungry pirates on the other, did they smuggle into port and enjoy in company; on many a half-holiday did they fish for hours in the same pool, or climb the same tree for the same nest; what book of Jim's was there (schoolbooks excepted) that Charlie had not dog's-eared; and was not Charlie's little library annotated in every page by Jim's elegant thumbs? In short, these two were as one. David and Jonathan were nothing to them. But in the midst of all his comfort and happiness one continually recurring thought troubled Charlie, that was about Tom Drift. He had promised the mother to be a friend to her son, and although he owned to himself he neither liked nor admired Tom, he could not be easy with this broken promise on his mind. One day, about a month after the quarrel outside the head master's study, my master, after a hard inward struggle, conceived the desperate resolve of going himself to the lion in his den and seeking a reconciliation. He walked quickly to Tom's study, for fear his resolution might fail him, and knocked as boldly as he could at the door. "Come in!" cried Tom inside. Charlie entered, and found his late antagonist sprawling on two chairs, reading a yellow-backed novel. At the sight of Charlie he scowled, and looked anything but conciliatory. "What do you want?" he said angrily. "Oh, Tom Drift!" cried Charlie, plunging at once into his subject, "I do wish you'd be friends; I am so sorry I hurt you." This last was an ill-judged reference; Tom was vicious enough about that bruise on his forehead not to need any reminder of the injuries he had sustained in that memorable scuffle. "Get off with you, you little beast!" he cried. "What do you mean by coming here?" "I know I've no business, Tom Drift; but I do so want to be friends, because--because I promised your mother, you know." "What do I care what you promised my mother? I don't want you. Come, off you go, or I'll show you the way." Charlie turned to go, yet still lingered. A desperate struggle was taking place, I could feel, within him, and then he stammered out, "I say, Tom Drift, if you'll only be friends I'll _give_ you my watch." Poor boy! Who knows what that offer cost him? it was indeed the dearest bribe he had to give. Tom laughed sneeringly. "Who wants your watch, young ass?--a miserable, second-hand, tin ticker; I'd be ashamed to be seen with it. Come, once more, get out of here or I'll kick you out!" Charlie obeyed, miserable and disappointed. He could stand being spoken roughly to, he could bear his disappointment, but to hear his father's precious gift spoken of as a "miserable, second-hand tin ticker," was more than he could endure, and he made his way back to his room conscious of having lost more than he had gained by this thankless effort at reconciliation. "What are you in the sulks about?" inquired Halliday that evening, as Charlie was putting away his lord and master's jam in the cupboard. "I don't want to be sulky," Charlie said, "but I wish I could make it up with Tom Drift." "With who?" exclaimed Joe, who, as we have before observed, was subject to occasional lapses of grammar. "Tom Drift, you know; we had a row the first day." "I know," replied Joe; "about that everlasting watch of yours, wasn't it?" "Yes," said Charlie, "I didn't like to lend it him, because--" "I know all about that," said Halliday. "You were squeamish about something or other he wanted it for. Well, the watch belonged to you, I suppose, and you aren't obliged to lend it to anybody. What on earth do you want to go worrying about the thing any more for?" "I'm not; only I wanted to be friends with Tom Drift." "What for?" demanded Joe. "Oh, because--because I promised his mother I would be," pleaded Charlie. "All I can say is, you had no business to promise any one to be friends with a fellow you never saw." "But she said he was a nice fellow; and besides he made my watch go when it had stopped," added Charlie, as a great argument. "Why, Charlie, you are a greater little noodle than I took you for. Every one who calls that precious watch a good name is your master, and you're his slave." "Not so bad as that, Joe," said Charlie; "but I say, isn't Tom Drift a nice boy, then?" "Isn't he? that's all," replied the other. "I'm not going to abuse him behind his back, but take my advice, young un. You are better off as Tom's enemy than his friend, and don't you try to make up to him any more." "Why not?" asked Charlie in bewilderment. "Never you mind," was all Joe's reply; "and now hand me down my Liddell and Scott and make yourself scarce." Charlie, sorely puzzled, did as he was bid. He certainly was not in love with Tom Drift; but it was not easy for him to give up, without an effort, his promise to be his friend. Tom, however, was by no means in need of friends. Not many weeks after the day when Charlie had left his study, disappointed and miserable, he might have been seen entertaining company of quite a different sort. [My readers, let me here observe, must not be too curious to understand how it is I am able to speak of so many things which must have taken place beyond the range of my observation. They will find the reason all in good time.] The supper party over which Tom presided consisted of four boys, including himself. One was Shadbolt, on whose account, it will be remembered, Tom had desired to borrow Charlie's watch. Shadbolt was an unwholesome-looking fellow of fifteen, with coarse features and eyes that could not look you straight in the face if they had tried. He was accompanied by his chum Margetson, who certainly had the advantage of his friend in looks, as well as in intellect. The quartet was completed by Gus Burke, one of the smallest and most vicious boys at Randlebury. He was the son of a country squire, who had the unenviable reputation of being one of the hardest drinkers and fastest riders in his county; and the boy had already shown himself only too apt a pupil in the lessons in the midst of which his childhood had been passed. He had at his tongue's tip all the slang of the stables and all the blackguardisms of the betting-ring; and boy--almost child--as he was, he affected the swagger and habits of a "fast man," like a true son of his father. At Randlebury he had wrought incredible mischief. Tom Drift was not the only soft-minded vain boy whom he had infected by his pernicious example. Like all reckless swaggerers, he had his band of admirers, who marked every action and drank in every word that fell from their hero's lips. It was just with such boys as Drift that his influence was most telling; for Tom was a boy not without aptitude to note and emulate a powerful example, whether it were good or bad, while his vanity rendered him as pliant as wax to the hand of the flatterer. Such was the party which assembled surreptitiously in Tom's study that evening and partook of the smuggled supper. Tom had had hard work to provide for his guests, and had succeeded only at the risk of grave penalties if detected. "I say, Tom, old horse, this is a prime spread!" said Gus; "where did you get it?" "Oh!" said Tom, "I had a new hat coming from Tiler's, so I got old Tripes (the butcher) to make a neat brown-paper parcel of the kidneys, and got them up in my gossamer. The old donkey might have done the thing better though, for the juice squeezed through, and the inside of my hat looks as if I had lately been scalped." "Hard lines! But never mind, perhaps they'll put it down to the crack you got on your forehead." Tom flushed scarlet; any reference to his inglorious scuffle with Charlie Newcome was odious to him, as Gus and the others knew well enough. He said nothing, however, only scowled angrily. "What!" said Gus, "does it hurt you still then? Never mind, it was a good shot, and I wouldn't be ashamed of having floored you myself." "He didn't floor me; I fell!" cried Tom indignantly. "Did you? Rather a way fellows have when they get knocked down!" "I was not knocked down, Gus, I tell you; and you'd better shut up!" "All right, old horse! you mustn't mind a bit of chaff. I'm sure you've taken it all very well." "Yes," said Margetson, "everybody thinks you must take after your mother; you're such a sweet-tempered chap." "What do you know about my mother?" snarled Tom. "Only what your young friend tells everybody about her." "What business has he to go talking all over the school about my affairs?" exclaimed Tom furiously. "What's my mother to do with him?" "A great deal, it seems," replied Margetson, "for he promised her, on the strength of her assertion that you were a nice boy, to be your friend, and now he's awfully hurt you won't let him." "I thought it was Tom who was awfully hurt," put in Gus, by way of parenthesis. "I tell you what it is, you fellows," said Tom, "it may be all very funny for you, but I've had quite enough of it. Ever since that young canting humbug came here I've led the life of a dog. If, instead of making a fool of me, you'd tell me how I can pay him out, I should be better pleased." "All very fine," said Margetson; "why don't you pay your own bills?" "If you want some one to punch his head," said Shadbolt the ugly, "I don't mind trying; my life is insured." "Suppose we make him stupid," suggested Gus, "with milk punch, and shove him inside the doctor's study." "Couldn't you get hold of his watch and boil it?" said Margetson, who had heard of the experiments practised on me in Mrs Packer's parlour. "If I got hold of it I'd smash it into fifty pieces!" growled Tom between his teeth. "Look here, you fellows, I've got a glorious plan!" exclaimed Gus suddenly. "What is it?" they all cried. But Gus's plan requires a new chapter. CHAPTER SEVEN. HOW A PLEASANT TREAT IN STORE WAS PREPARED FOR MY MASTER. Gus proceeded then to divulge his plan for giving Tom Drift his revenge on my master. "Let's take him to Gurley races on Saturday," said he. "You know it's a holiday, and if we can only get him with us, well astonish his sanctimonious young soul. What do you say?" "You'll never get him to come," said Margetson. "Won't we? Well see about that," replied Gus, "he needn't know where he's going." "But even so," said Drift, "you won't get him; he's not in love with me, and I don't fancy any of you are much in his line." "Oh, you'll have to manage that part, Tom. You know how the young idiot's pining to make it up with you, for your dear old mother's sake!" "Now you needn't start that nonsense again," put in Tom sulkily. "All right; but don't you see, if you were to take a forgiving fit and make up to him, and talk about the old lady and his watch, and all that, he'd be out of his wits with joy? and then if you asked him to come for a day's fishing on Saturday, we could meet you somewhere on the road, and then he'd have to come whether he liked or not; and won't we astonish him!" Tom mused a little. "It's not a bad idea," said he presently, "if it would only work. But I can't make up to the young puppy as you think. Ten to one I should stop short in the middle and kick him." "That would spoil all the fun. Try it on, any way, it'll be a nice little excitement to have young Innocent with us. And now, Tom, where are blacks and reds; I'm just in the humour for a rubber, aren't you?" The host produced from a locked desk a dirty and much-worn pack of cards, and the party sat down to play. They played for penny points, and as Gus and Margetson were partners, it is hardly necessary to say that Drift and his ill-looking friend lost every game. Before this amiable and congenial quartet separated, Gus had referred again to the scheme of getting Charlie to Gurley races, and got Drift to promise he would secure his victim next day. Next day, accordingly, as Charlie was in the midst of a desperate game of fives with his friend Jim, a small boy came to him and said that Tom Drift wanted him. "What for?" demanded Charlie, who, since his talk with the elder Halliday, had felt somewhat "shy" about Tom. "I don't know," said the boy. "Your turn, Charlie," called out Jim from the end of the court. Charlie took his turn while he was revolving on his answer to this mysterious summons. "What does that child want?" inquired Jim, with all the loftiness of a second-form boy speaking of a first. "He says Tom Drift wants me." "Whew!" whistled Jim, who of course knew the whole mystery of the affair between his chum and Tom; "tell him to go to Jericho! Look out for yourself!" And so saying, he took his turn with the ball. "That wouldn't do," said Charlie; "I don't want to rile him." "_I'd_ like to have a chance," retorted the implacable Jim. "Well, then, tell him you can't come. Here, young un, tell Tom Drift Charlie can't come. Do you hear? Cut your sticks!" But Charlie called the messenger back. "I _could_, go if I wanted, Jim. Better tell him I'd rather not come. Say that, youngster--I'd rather not." So off the youngster ran, and Charlie and Jim finished their game. Of coarse, the youthful messenger gave Tom a full, true, and particular account of this conversation in all its details, which rendered that young gentleman rather less eager than ever for his enterprise. However, he had the fear of Gus before his eyes, and strolled out into the playground on the chance of coming across Charlie. And he did come across him, arm-in-arm with the faithful Jim. Tom worked his face into the ghastly similitude of a friendly smile as he approached, and said, in as genial a voice as he could pretend, "I'm glad I met you, Newcome, because I want to speak to you, if you don't mind taking a turn round the playground." Charlie, of course, was astonished; he had expected at the very least to be kicked over the wall when he saw Tom approach, and he was utterly at a loss to understand this not unfriendly greeting. Innocent boy! it never occurred to him the demonstration could be anything but real. Jim would have been a tougher subject to deal with. Indeed, as he let go Charlie's arm, and saw him walk off with Tom, he muttered to himself, not caring particularly whether the latter heard him or not. "Gammon! that's what it is." Charlie had not long to wait before his companion began the conversation. "I suppose you wonder why I want you, Newcome?" said he. "The fact is, I've been thinking I wasn't altogether right in being down on you the other day about lending me that watch, especially as you were a new boy; and I'm sorry if I hurt you." Charlie sprung towards him and caught his arm. "Oh, Tom Drift, don't say that, please! It was my fault--all my fault, and I have been so sorry ever since. And you will be friends now, won't you? I do so want to be, because I promised your mother--" Tom gave a quick gesture of impatience, which, if Charlie had understood, he would have known how near receiving a kick he was at that moment. Tom, however, restrained himself, and said,-- "Oh, yes, for her sake I'd like to be friends, of course, and I hope you'll forget all about that wretched quarrel." "Indeed I will," cried Charlie; "and don't let us say any more about it. I am ever so much happier now, and it was so good of you to come to me and make it up." "Well," said Tom loftily, "you know it's no use for two fellows to be at loggerheads when it can be helped, and I dare say we shall get on all the better now. How are you going on in the second?" Whereupon Charlie launched into a lengthy and animated account of his experiences, to which Tom pretended to listen, but scarcely heard a word. "So you are fond of fishing?" he said, casually, after the boy had mentioned something on that subject. "Ain't I, though?" cried Charlie, now quite happy, and his old self again. "I say, Tom Drift, would you like to see the new lance-wood top I've got to my rod? It's a stunner, I can tell you. I'll lend it you, you know, any time you like." "Have you caught much since you were here!" asked Tom, anxious to get this hateful business over. "No. You know the brook here isn't a good one for fish, and I don't know anywhere else near." "Well, I'll tell you what," said Tom, as if the idea had then for the first time occurred to him. "Suppose we go off for a regular good day on Saturday? It's a holiday, you know, and we could go and try up the Sharle, near Gurley. There's lots of trout there, and we are certain to have a good day." "How jolly!" exclaimed Charlie. "It would be grand. But I say, Tom Drift, are you sure you wouldn't mind coming? It wouldn't be a bother to you, would it?" "Not a bit. I like a good day's fishing. But, I say, young un, you'd better not say anything about it to any one, or we shall have a swarm of fellows come too, and that will spoil all the sport." "All right," said Charlie. "I say what a day we shall have! I'll bring my watch and knife, you know, and some grub, and we can picnic there, eh?" "That'll be splendid. Well, I must go in now, so good-bye, Newcome, and shake hands." What a grip was that! on one side all trust and fervour, and on the other all fraud and malice! Tom Drift was not yet utterly bad. Would that he had allowed his conscience to speak and his better self prevail! Half a dozen times in the course of his walk from the playground to the school he repented of the wicked part he was playing in the scheme to injure Charlie. But half a dozen times the thought of Gus and his taunts, and the recollection of his own bruised forehead came to drive out all passing sentiments of pity or remorse. Charlie rejoined his chum with a beaming face. "Well," asked Jim, "what has he been saying to humbug you this time?" "Nothing very particular; and I won't let you call him a humbug. I say, Jim, old boy, he's made it up at last, and we're friends, Tom Drift and I! Hurrah! I was never so glad, isn't it jolly?" Jim by no means shared his friend's enthusiasm. Like his elder brother, he instinctively disliked Tom Drift, without exactly being able to give a reason. His reserve, however, had no effect on Charlie's high spirits. At last the wish of his heart had been gained! No longer did he walk with the burden of a broken promise weighting his neck; no longer did the consciousness of having an enemy oppress him. "Simpleton!" many of my readers will exclaim. Perhaps he was; but even if you laugh at him, I think you will hardly despise him for his simple- mindedness, for who would not rather be such a one than the tempter, Tom Drift? All that week he was jubilant. Boys looked round in astonishment at the shrillness of his whistle and the ring of his laughter. His corner of the class room was a simple Babel, and the number of apples he bestowed in charity was prodigious. Something, every one could see, had happened to make him happier than ever. Few knew what that something was, and fewer still knew what it meant. "What are you up to to-morrow?" asked the elder Halliday of his fag on the Friday evening. "Fishing," briskly replied the boy. "You're for ever fishing," said Joe. "I suppose that young brother of mine is going with you?" "No; Jim's going to play in the match against the Badgers." The "Badgers," let me explain, was the name of a scratch cricket eleven made up of boys in the first, second and third forms. "Are you going alone, then?" Charlie felt uncomfortable as he answered,-- "No." "Whom are you going with?" pursued the inquiring Joe. "A fellow in the fifth who asked me to come." "What's his name?" Charlie had no help for it now. "Tom Drift," he faltered. "Tom Drift! I thought you and he were at loggerheads." "Oh, don't you know we've made it up? He was awfully kind about it, and said he was sorry, when it was really my fault, and we shook hands, and to-morrow we are going to fish in a place he knows where there's no end of trout." "Where's that?" "He didn't want me to tell, for fear everybody should come and spoil the sport; but I suppose I can tell you, though; it's up the Sharle, near Gurley." "Humph! I've fished there before now. Not such a wonderful lot of fish, either." "I suppose you won't be there to-morrow?" asked Charlie nervously, afraid of losing the confidence of Tom Drift by attracting strangers to his waters. "Not if I know it," replied Joe. "I say, youngster, I thought you had given up the notion of making up to that fellow?" "I didn't make up to him, only I can't be sorry to be friends with him--" "Well, I hope you won't be sorry now you've done it. Take care what you're about, that's all." Charlie was again perplexed to understand why Halliday seemed to have such a dislike to poor Tom. Just as he was going off to bed Joe stopped him and asked,-- "By the way, shall you be using your watch to-morrow?" "Well, I promised I'd take it, to see how the time went; but I dare say we could do without it, and I would like to lend it to you, Halliday." "Not a bit of it," replied the other. "I can do without it as well as you. I am going to walk over to Whitstone Woods and back." "Hullo, that's a long trot," said Charlie. "It must be nearly thirty miles." "Something like that," said Joe. "Walcot and I are going to make a day of it." "Which way do you go?" "Through Gurley, and then over Rushton Common and past Slingcomb." "Never! I wish I could do thirty miles at a stretch." "So you will some day. Good-night." And Charlie went to bed, to dream of the lance-wood top of his rod and the trout in the Sharle. In the meanwhile the conspirators had had another meeting in Drift's den. "Well, have you hooked him?" asked Gus. "Yes; it's all right. He took it all in like a lamb." "And all the school," said Margetson, "is talking of the great reconciliation, and the gratification which that event will undoubtedly afford to your venerable mother." "Shut up, will you, Margetson? I've had quite enough of that chaff." "But I do assure you, Tom--" "That'll do," said Tom, snappishly; and Margetson did not go the length of saying what it was he was so ready to assure him of. "Well," said Gus, "we'll meet you and the young cub at the cross roads by Sharle Bridge. The races don't begin till twelve, so we shall have lots of time. I mean to see if we can't get a trap at Gurley, and do the thing in style. What do you say? We could get one for about ten bob." "All serene," said Margetson. "I'll fork out my share." "You'll pay for me, Tom," said Shadbolt, "won't you?" "I'll see," said Tom. "All right, that's settled; and you are seeing about grub, Tom, aren't you? Don't forget the etceteras. What time have you told young mooney- face?" "Nine. He's sure to be in time." "Well, we'll start a little before, you know, and meet you quite by accident, and the young beggar won't smell a rat till we are safe in Gurley." "And if he turns cantankerous?" "Then we can put Shaddy to look after him." "Who's going to win the Gulley Plate, Gus?" And then the party fell to canvassing the entries for the morrow's races, and making their bets, in which, of course, Tom stood almost bound to lose, whichever horse won. Long ere they had parted company Charlie was sound asleep and dreaming, with me under his pillow. CHAPTER EIGHT. HOW MY MASTER DID NOT CATCH THE FISH HE EXPECTED. About ten years before the time of my story it had happened that in a famous battle fought between her Majesty's troops and those of a hostile and savage king, the colours of the 300th Regiment were noticed to be in imminent peril of capture. The ensign who carried them was wounded, and already a score of the enemy were rushing forward to seize the prize and carry it off in triumph to their king. Suddenly, however, there dashed up to the spot a young cornet of dragoons, who, seeing the peril of his fellow-officer and the colours he carried, dragged him, flag and all, up nearly into his own saddle, and started off with his precious burden towards a place of shelter from the fire and spears of the savages. Before, however, he had gone twenty yards the poor ensign tumbled to the ground, shot through the heart, yielding with his dying hands his colours to the dragoon. That plucky young soldier, wrapping the torn and stained flag round his body, set his teeth, stooped forward in his saddle, and, digging his spurs into his horse, galloped for his life. He had a terrific gauntlet to run, and grandly he ran it. The friendly trench was in sight, the cheers of his comrades fell like music on his ears, a vision of glory and honour flashed through his mind, and then suddenly he reeled forward in his seat--a malignant shot had found him out at last, and, with the colours round him, he dropped from his horse into his comrades' arms a dead man. This hero was an old Randlebury boy; and ever since that day, on every anniversary of his glorious death, Randlebury kept, and still keeps, holiday. All this Charlie was informed of by his faithful chum, Jim Halliday, as the former was dressing himself on the morning of the eventful holiday in question. What possessed him to get up at six, when he was not to start till nine, I cannot say. He even routed me from under his pillow at five, so fidgety was he, and as soon as ever I pointed to six he bounced out of bed as if he was shot. "What are you up to, getting up at this time?" growled Jim, who, much to the mutual delight of the boys, slept in the same room with Charlie. "Oh, you know; I don't want to be behindhand," replied Charlie. "Behindhand! Why, do you know it's only just six?" "I know that, and I mean to make the most of my holiday. I say, Jim, what do they want to give us a holiday for, do you know?" "They don't want to at all; they've got to." "Got to? What do you mean?" inquired Charlie, dragging on his boots. And then Jim, with many yawns and growls, told him the story; and, without waiting for his comments thereon, rolled over and went off to sleep again. Charlie spent his early hour in polishing up things generally. When he had polished up his rod with the lance-wood top, he polished up his green can and his hooks. Then he warmed me up with a piece of wash- leather, and then his many-fanged knife. By the time these little jobs were accomplished, and Joe's study put in order, the breakfast bell sounded, and he went down with a mouth sore with whistling. He caught sight of Tom Drift at another table, and nodded and waved his green can to him; he informed every boy within hearing distance that it was certain to be a fine day, whatever it looked like now; and he made the wildest and most indiscriminate promises to entertain his whole acquaintance at no end of a trout supper on the spoils of that day's sport. Twenty times during breakfast did he pull me out and look impatiently at my minute-hand slowly making its way from eight to nine; and as soon as ever the meal was over he rushed upstairs like mad for his rod and bag, and then tore down again four steps at a time, nearly knocking the head master over at the bottom. "Gently, my man," said that gentleman, recognising in this cannon-ball of a young fellow his little travelling companion. "Why, what's the matter?" "I beg your pardon, doctor," said Charlie; "did I hurt you?" "Not a bit. So you are going to fish to-day?" "Yes, sir," said the beaming Charlie. "I say, sir, do you think it'll be a fine day?" "I hope so--good-bye. I suppose this can will be full when you come back?" "Good-bye, sir," said Charlie, secretly resolving that if fortune favoured him he would present the two finest of his trout to the doctor. He found Drift ready for him when he reached that young gentleman's study. Besides his rod, Tom had a somewhat cumbersome bag, which, as it carried most of the provisions for the whole party, he was not a little surly about being burdened with. Charlie, of course, thought it was his and Tom's dinner. "Is that the grub?" he cried. "Why, Tom Drift, you have been laying in a spread! What a brick you are! Look here, I'd carry it--isn't it a weight, though! If we get all this inside us two we shan't starve!" And so they started, Charlie lugging along the bag and whistling like a lark. "Looks cloudy," said Tom, who felt he must say something or other. "Never mind, all the better for the trout, you know. I say, I wish I had my fly on the water this minute." As Tom was silent, Charlie kept up the conversation by himself. "I say, Tom Drift," said he, "if your mother could only see us two chaps going off for a day's fishing she--" "Look here, draw it mild about my mother, young un. She can take care of herself well enough." Charlie blushed to the roots of his hair at this rebuke, and for some time the flow of his conversation was arrested. It was a good four miles from Randlebury to Sharle Bridge; and long ere they reached it Charlie's arm ached with the ponderous bag he was carrying. He did not, however, like to say anything, still less to ask Tom to take a turn at carrying it; so he plodded on, changing hands every few minutes, and buoying himself up with the prospect of the river and the trout. Presently they came within sight of the signpost which marks the junction of the Gurley and Sharle Bridge roads. "Here we are at last!" cried Charlie, panting and puffing. "I say, Tom Drift, I don't believe I could have carried this bag any farther if I'd tried." "It'll be lighter when we go home. Hullo! who are these three?" for at this moment Gus, Margetson, and Shadbolt made their appearance. "They look like Randlebury fellows by their caps. Oh, I know who one of them is," added Charlie-- "Margetson, in the fourth; don't you know him?" "Rather!" replied Tom; "and the other two are Shaddy and Gus. Who'd have thought of meeting _them_!" and he gave a whistle, which succeeded in attracting the attention of the worthy trio. Of course their surprise at meeting Tom and his companion was no less great--in fact, they had to inquire who the youngster was. "Where are you off to?" demanded Gus. "We're going to try our luck up the Sharle," said Tom. "You'll be sold if you do," said Gus. "We were down looking at it, and a pretty state it's in. Old Skinner at the Tannery took it into his head to leave his gates up last night, and his muck has got into the river and poisoned every fish in it--hasn't it, Shad?" "Rather!" replied Shad. "I was glad enough to get my nose away from the place." "Here's a go, Charlie!" said Tom, turning to his young companion. During this short conversation Charlie had passed through all the anguish of a bitter disappointment. It is no light thing to have the hope of days snuffed out all in a moment, and he was ready to cry with vexation. However it couldn't be helped, and he had learned before now how to take a disappointment like a man. So when Tom appealed to him he put a good face on it, and said,-- "Awful hard lines. Never mind, let's go back and see the match with the Badgers, Tom." "Why don't you come with us?" asked Gus. "We are going to Gurley; have you ever been to Gurley, young un?" "No," said Charlie. "Come along, then, we'll show it you. It's a prime town, isn't it, Margetson?" "Don't ask me," said Margetson; "I'd sooner see about Gurley than catch a seven-pounder, any day." "And besides," said Tom, "isn't there some good fishing above the lock! Come along, Charlie; we shall not be baulked of our day's sport after all." Charlie joined the party, although he did not conceive any great admiration for Tom's three friends. His anxiety not to offend his now reconciled enemy, and the possibility of fishing after all, overruled him; and still dragging the bag, he trudged along with the others towards Gurley. As they approached the town he could not help noticing the number of holiday-makers and vehicles that passed them. There were drags full of gaily-dressed ladies; and gentlemen who wore veils; and there were light jaunty dog-carts with spruce young white-hatted gentlemen perched in them; there were vans in which corks were popping like musketry fires and parties on foot like themselves, hurrying forward with loud laughter and coarse music. "Surely," thought he, "there's something on at Gurley." Presently a waggonette, driven by a very loud youth in a check suit, and with an enormous cigar in his mouth, pulled up in passing, and its driver addressed Gus. "So you've found _your_ way here, have you, my young bantam? Catch _you_ being out of a good thing. Are you going on the grand stand?" "Don't know," said Gus grandly. "We may pick up a trap in the town." "Ho, ho! going to do it flash, are you? Well, there's one of you could do with a little spice," added he, glancing at Charlie. "I suppose my trap's not grand enough for you." "Can you give us a lift, then, Bill?" asked Gus, charmed at the idea. "Yes, to be sure; I've no company to-day. There's just room. Hop in. I may as well turn an honest penny as not. Here, you young sinner, jump up beside me on the box." And before Charlie knew where he was or whither he was going he found himself on the box of the waggonette beside the flash youth, and his four friends behind him inside. "Who's your friend, Gus?" he heard Margetson ask. "Son of Belsham, who keeps the `Green Tiger' at Randlebury. We're in luck, I can tell you, you fellows." As Charlie gradually recovered from his bewilderment he felt himself extremely uncomfortable and ill at ease. From what had been said he had gathered that the object of the boys in going to Gurley was something more than to see the town; and he by no means liked Gus's new friend, or approved of his easy familiarity with a low publican's son. It was not long before his dawning suspicions were fully confirmed. "So you're going to see the races?" asked Mr Belsham. "No, I'm not," replied Charlie, as curtly as he could, for he had no desire to encourage the conversation of this objectionable person. "Ain't you? And what are you going to do, then, my young lamb?" And in the course of this brief sentence Mr Belsham succeeded in interjecting at least three oaths. "I shan't speak to you if you swear," said Charlie; "it's wrong to swear." "No! is it? Who says that?" "My father says so," blurted out Charlie, fully satisfied that no better reason could be demanded. Belsham laughed, and turning to the four inside, said,-- "I say, young gentlemen, this young pippin tells me he's got a father who says it's wrong to swear. What do you think of that?" "His father must be an amusing man," replied Gus. "Wait till we get on to the course," said Margetson; "he'll hear something to astonish him there, young prig!" "I'm not going to the races!" cried my master, starting from his seat, and now fully alive to the fraud of which he had been made the victim. "How could you do this, Tom Drift! Let me down, will you!" and he struggled so desperately with Belsham that that gentleman was obliged to let go the reins in order to hold him. Of course it was no use his resisting. Amid the shouts and jeers of his schoolfellows he was held on to the box. In vain he pleaded, besought, struggled, threatened; there he was compelled to stay, all through Gurley and out to the racecourse. Here he found himself in the midst of a yelling, blaspheming, drunken multitude, from the sight of whose faces and the sound of whose words his soul revolted so vehemently that it lent new vigour to his exhausted frame, and urged him to one last desperate struggle to free himself and escape from his tormentors. "Look here," said Belsham to Gus; "if you suppose I'm going to have all my fun spoiled by looking after this cub of yours while you're enjoying yourselves there inside, you're mistaken; here, look after him yourselves." So saying, he dragged Charlie from his seat and swung him down into the waggonette with such force that he lay there half stunned and incapable of further resistance, and so for the time being saved his persecutors a good deal of trouble. And indeed had it been otherwise it is hardly likely they would have just then been able to pay him much attention, for at that moment the horses were all drawn up at the starting-post, waiting for the signal to go. That was a feverish moment for Tom Drift. He had bet all his money on one horse, and if that horse did not win, he would lose every penny of it. As usual, he had repented a hundred times of that day's business, and the last brutal outrage on poor Charlie had called up even in his seared breast a fleeting feeling of indescribable shame. It was, alas! only fleeting. Next moment he forgot all but the horses. There they stood in a long restless line. A shout! and they were off. In the first wild scramble he could catch a sight of the colours on which his hopes depended near the front. On they came like the wind. A man near shouted the name of Tom's horse--"It's winning," and Tom's head swam at the sound. On still nearer, and now they have passed. In the retreating, straggling crowd he can see his horse still, but it seems to be going back instead of forward. Like a torrent the others overhaul and pass it. Then a louder shout than usual proclaims the race over, and the favourite beaten, and Tom staggers down to his seat sick and half stupid. "Never mind, old man," he heard Gus say, "luck's against you this time; you'll have your turn some day. Take some of this, man, and never say die." And Tom, reckless in his misery, took the proffered bottle, and drank deeply. It was late in the afternoon before Belsham thought of turning his horse's head homeward, and by that time Charlie, on the floor of the waggonette, was slowly beginning to recover consciousness. CHAPTER NINE. HOW MY MASTER AND I HAD QUITE AS MUCH EXCITEMENT IN ONE AFTERNOON AS WAS GOOD FOR US. Just as they were turning to go, a sudden shout and rush of people arrested them. The crowd on the course had been immense, and of the roughest and lowest description: sharpers, thieves, and roughs were there by the hundred, attracted from the neighbouring villages by the opportunity of plunder and riot which Gurley races always afforded. As soon as the serious business of the racing was over, this low mob naturally sought excitement of their own making, and increasing in disorder and intemperance as the day wore on, had become beyond control just about the time when Mr Belsham, junior, took it into his muddled head to make a start in the direction of home. The shout which kept him where he was, was occasioned by that spectacle dear to the eyes of all blackguards, a fight. Round the two blood and dust-stained combatants, the mob surged and yelled. Every moment it grew denser and wilder; and every moment it swayed nearer and nearer to the spot where the Randlebury boys stood in their waggonette; and before they could move or get clear, they found themselves in the very centre of the mob. Shouts, shrieks, and wild laughter rose on every side of them; some of the crowd scrambled up onto their wheels to get a glimpse of the pugilists; some abused and swore at them for getting in the way; some tried to invade their waggonette, and struck at them when they resisted. In the midst of all, Belsham's horse took fright. There was a wild plunge, a shriek from the crowd in front, and next moment the five boys were thrown down among the crowd, while the horse, with the shattered and overturned vehicle behind him, forced for himself a ghastly lane through the mob. Of Gus and his three friends, Charlie, whom the shock roused to sudden consciousness, could see nothing. He tried to rise, but the crowd pressed too wildly to give him the chance. For some moments he lay among a host of crowding, struggling feet, expecting every moment to be stunned, if not killed. But by a wonderful providence he escaped the peril. The crowd gave a sudden swing in a new direction, and he was left unhurt, though stupefied and almost unable to stir. Presently he was conscious of a man standing in front of him. "Oh, help me!" gasped my poor master. The man seized him roughly by the arm and raised him to his feet. "That's worth a tip," he growled; "come, hand over." Charlie put his hand in his pocket and drew out a shilling. The man scowled. "Do you suppose I'll take a dirty shilling? Come, young swell, empty out them pockets. Look sharp, I've no time to waste on the like of you." Tremblingly Charlie obeyed, and gave the man all the little stock of money he possessed. But he was not yet to escape. From under his jacket the greedy eye of the thief had caught a glimpse of a chain. With a rough hand he tore open the coat. "What, a ticker? Here's luck; out with it, come." "Oh," cried Charlie, "take anything but that! Take my chain and my knife, but not my watch?" Hardly and brutally laughed the man as he snatched me out of the poor boy's hand, and administering a parting cuff on the head of his victim, turned to walk off with me in the recesses of one of his filthy pockets. Scarcely, however, had he turned, when three men appeared in front of him, coming in the direction of Charlie. The boy saw them, and imagine his joy when in one of the party he recognised his old acquaintance, the cabman Jim! With a sudden bound and cry of delight he rushed towards him, shouting and pointing to the robber. "Oh, Jim, he's taken my watch; get my watch back, Jim." Jim took in the state of affairs in an instant, and calling on his two companions to follow him, rushed upon and secured the thief before the latter was even aware of their intention. It was vain for one man to resist three. He was forced to disgorge first me, then the knife, and then the money. Charlie indeed pleaded that they should leave him the money, or some of it, but this proposal Jim scouted, and in his zeal relieved the robber of a good deal more than he had stolen from Charlie. Then with kicks and blows they drove the wretch away as fast as his legs could carry him. This done, Jim the cabman had an opportunity of renewing his acquaintance with my master. "Well," said he, "who'd have thought of seeing _you_ here? And what a nice mess you're in. You look as if--" "Oh, don't," cried Charlie, holding him by the arm; "it's bad enough as it is, without you thinking ill of me." And then he told him as well as he could how he had been decoyed to these vile races; how he had been kept there by main force; how he had been made senseless by their rough treatment, and how, but for Jim's timely help, he would now have been robbed and helpless. Jim listened in astonishment, not unmingled with many an ejaculation of indignation at the poor boy's persecutors. "And where are they now?" he asked, when Charlie had done. "I don't know. We were all thrown out, you know, among the crowd. I only hope they've not been killed." "Well, if I was you," said the downright cabman, "I wouldn't break my heart over them. I know _I'd_ like to have a chance of a quiet talk with the young swells; _I'd_ give them something to take home with them, I would." Charlie said nothing, but gratefully put himself under the protection of his deliverer, who, making a considerable round to avoid the crush, led him safely to Gurley. "There's no trap to be got for love or money, so you'll just have to walk if you want to get back to Randlebury to-night." Anything to get away from that odious crowd. If the distance had been twice as far, Charlie would have undertaken it. It was long enough, however, before they got away from the crowd. The road from Gurley to Sharle Bridge was alive for a mile and more with vehicles, drunken men and women, beggars and pickpockets. On either side of the road were jugglers, and thimble-riggers, and card-sharpers, who each attracted their crowd of simpletons. Many were the fights and riots that attended these eager assemblages. As they passed one booth, the headquarters of a blustering card-sharper, a sudden disturbance arose which threatened to block the entire road. The man had offered a sovereign to any one of his audience who could tell which of three cards he held uppermost in his hand. One voice called out a number. The man shuffled his cards, and by some slip on his part the guess of the speculator turned out correct. Instantly that youth demanded his sovereign, which the man refused, vowing and calling others to witness that another number had been guessed. "I'll bring the police," cried the voice, and instantly there was a movement in the group as of some one endeavouring to force his way out. "Knock him over!" some one cried; "he's only one of them donkey schoolboys. What business have they here at all?" And at the signal two or three of the juggler's accomplices made a dash at the retreating youth and seized him. "Souse him in the river!" cried somebody else. "Sit on him!" shouted a third. In the midst of these contradictory advices the roughs lifted their struggling victim from his feet, and proceeded to carry him in the direction of the bridge. In the momentary glimpse which Charlie got of the wretched object of this persecution, he recognised, to his horror and astonishment, Tom Drift, livid with terror, frantic with rage, and yelling with pain. "Jim," cried Charlie, "that's Tom Drift! Oh! can't we help him? Will you try, Jim! Poor Tom!" "Is he one of them four as brought you here?" asked Jim, not offering to move. "Yes; but never mind that; they will drown him; see how furious they are! Will you help him, Jim?" "Not a bit of me," replied the stubborn Jim, who was well content to see the tables turned on one who had so brutally ill-treated his young companion. "Then I must try myself;" and so saying, the boy of thirteen rushed in among the crowd, and wildly tried to make his way to where his schoolfellow was being dragged by his persecutors. Of course Jim had nothing for it but to back him up, and in a moment he was beside my young master. "Let the boy be!" he shouted to those who carried Drift, in a voice so loud that for a moment the rabble stood quiet to hear. In the midst of this silence Charlie shouted,-- "Hold on, Tom Drift, we'll help you if we can." Instantly the crowd took up the name. "Tom Drift! Yah! Souse Tom Drift! Roll Tom Drift in the mud! Yah! Tom Drift!" And sure enough Tom Drift would have suffered the penalty prepared for him, despite Charlie's attempt at rescue, had not help come at that moment from a most unexpected quarter. It will be remembered that Joe Halliday and his friend Walcot had planned a long walk on this holiday to Whitstone Woods, some ten miles beyond Gurley. This plan they had duly carried out, and were now making the best of their way back to Randlebury along the crowded highway, when the sudden cry of a schoolfellow's name startled them. "Tom Drift! Yah! Beggarly schoolboy!" "I say, Joe, that's one of our fellows! What's happening?" Joe accosted a passer-by. "What's going on?" he inquired. "They're only going to souse a young chap in the river." "What for?" "I don't know; 'cause he don't think the same as old Shuffle, the three- card chap." "We must do something, Joe," said Walcot. "I wish it were any other chap; but come on, we're in for it now," said Joe. And with that these two broad-shouldered, tall fellows dashed into the thick of the fray. Tom's bearers were now at the bridge, which was a low one, and were turning down towards the water's edge, when a new cry arrested them. "Now, Randlebury! Put it on, Randlebury! Who backs up Randlebury?" It was the old familiar cry of the football field, and at the sound of the well-known voices, Charlie's heart leapt for joy. "I do!" he shouted, with all his might. "Here you are, Randlebury!" And Jim's gruff voice took up the cry too. A panic set in among the blackguards. To them it seemed that the school was come in force to rescue their comrade, for on either side the cry rose, and fighting towards them they could, see at any rate two stalwart figures, who, they concluded, were but the leaders of following force. One of the men was hardy enough to turn at bay at the moment Walcot had cleared his way at last up to the front. Big bully though he was, he was no match for the well-conditioned, active athlete who faced him, and Walcot punished him in a manner that made him glad enough to take to his heels as fast as he could. This exploit turned the day. Dropping Tom--how and where they did not stay to consider--they followed their retreating companion with all the speed they were capable of, and left the enemy without another blow masters of the situation. But if, as a victory, this charge of the Randlebury boys had been successful, as a rescue it had failed; for Tom Drift, being literally dropped from the shoulders of his executioners, had fallen first on to the parapet of the bridge, and then with a heavy shock into the stony stream beneath. When Walcot, Joe, Charlie, and Jim among them, went to pull him out, he was senseless. At first they thought him merely stunned by the fall (the stream was only a few inches deep), but presently when they began to lift him, they found that his right arm, on which he had fallen, was broken. Bandaging the limb as well as they could, and bathing his forehead with water, they succeeded in restoring Tom to consciousness, and then, between them, carried him as gently as possible to the nearest house, when they managed, with some difficulty, to get a vehicle to convey them the rest of their journey. It was a sad, silent journey. To Tom, the pain caused by every jolt was excruciating. They did their best to ease him, holding him lying across their knees, while Jim drove along the level footpath; but by the time the school was reached the sufferer was again insensible, and so he remained till the surgeon had set his arm. Thus ended the eventful holiday. Before Charlie went to bed, the doctor sent for him to his study, and there required to know the true history of that day's doings. And Charlie told him all. I need hardly say that, according to his version, the case against the four culprits was far lighter than had their impeachment been in other hands. He took to himself whatever blame he could, and dwelt as little as possible on the plot that had been laid to get him to Gurley, and on the means which had been used to keep him when once there. He finished up with a very warm and pathetic appeal for Tom Drift. "Don't, please, expel Tom Drift," he said, in all the boldness of generosity; "he was led on by the others, sir, and he's punished badly enough as it is. Oh! sir, if you'd seen his mother cry, when she only spoke of him, you couldn't do it." "You must leave that to me," said the doctor sternly, "I hope I shall do nothing that is unjust or unkind. And now go to bed, and thank God for the care He has taken of you to-day." And Charlie went. Tom Drift was not expelled. For weeks he lay ill, and during that time no nurse was more devoted, and no companion more constant, than Charlie Newcome. A friendship sprang up between the two, strangely in contrast with the old footing on which they had stood. No longer was Tom the vain, hectoring patron, but the docile penitent, over whose spirit Charlie's character began from that time to exercise an influence which, if in the time to come it could always have worked as it did now, would have gone far to save Tom Drift from many a bitter fall and experience. When Tom, a week before the Christmas holidays, left the sick-room and took his place once more in his class, Gus, Margetson, and Shadbolt were no longer inmates of Randlebury School. CHAPTER TEN. HOW I CHANGED HANDS AND QUITTED RANDLEBURY. And now, dear reader, we must take a leap together of three years. For remember, I am not setting myself to record the life of any one person, or the events which happened at any one place. I am writing my own life--or those parts of it which are most memorable--and therefore it behoves me not to dwell unduly on times and scenes in which I was not personally interested. I had a very close connection with the events that rendered Charlie's first term at school so exciting, but after that, for three years, I pursued the even tenor of my way, performing some twenty-six thousand two hundred and eighty revolutions, unmarked by any incident, either in my own life or that of my master worthy of notice. By the end of those three years, however, things were greatly changed at Randlebury. Charlie, not far from his sixteenth birthday, was now a tall, broad-shouldered fellow, lording it in the Upper Fifth, and the hero of the cricket field of which he himself had once been a cadet. In face he was not greatly altered. Still the old curly head and bright eyes. He _was_ noticed occasionally to stroke his chin abstractedly; and some envious detractors went so far as to rumour that, in the lowest recesses of his trunk he had a razor, wherewith on divers occasions, in dread secret, he operated with slashing effect. Be this as it might, Charlie was growing up. He had a fag of his own, who alternately quaked and rejoiced beneath his eye; he wore a fearful and wonderful stick-up collar on Sundays, and, above all, he treated me with a careless indifference which contrasted wonderfully with his former enthusiasm, and betokened only too significantly the advance of years on his young head. True, he wound me up regularly; but he often left me half the day under his pillow; and though once in a fit of artistic zeal he set himself to hew out a C.N. in startling characters on my back, with the point of a bodkin, he never polished me now as he was once wont to do. All this was painful to me, especially the operation with the bodkin, but I still rejoiced to call him master, and to know that though years had changed his looks, and sobered his childish exuberance, the same true heart still beat close to mine, and remained still as warm and guileless as when little Charlie Newcome, with me in his pocket, first put his foot forth into the world. There were two besides myself who could bear witness at the end of these three years that time had not changed the boy's heart. These two, I need hardly say, were Tom Drift and Jim Halliday. To Tom, Charlie had become increasingly a friend of the true kind. Ever since the day at Gurley races, the influence of the younger boy had grown and overshadowed the elder, confirming his unstable resolutions, animating his sluggish mind with worthy ambitions, and giving to his pliant character a tone coloured by his own honesty and uprightness. Just as a pilot will safely steer the ship amid shoals and rocks out into the deeper waters, so Charlie, by his quiet influence, had given Tom's life a new direction towards honour and usefulness. Once, and once only, during those three years had he shown a disposition to hark back on his old discreditable ways, and that was the result of a casual meeting with Gus one summer during the holidays, with whom, he afterwards confessed to Charlie, he was induced to forget for a time his better resolutions in the snares of a billiard-room. But the backsliding was repented of almost as soon as committed, and, to Charlie's anxious eyes, appeared to leave behind no bad result. Jim was the same downright outspoken boy as ever. He had yielded, surlily at first, to the admission of Tom Drift into the confidence and friendship of himself and his chum, but by degrees, moved by Charlie's example, he had become more hearty, and now these three boys were the firmest friends in Randlebury. One day, as Charlie was sitting in his study attempting, with many groans, to make sense out of a very obscure passage in Cicero, his fag entered and said,-- "Newcome, there's a parcel for you down at Trotter's." "Why didn't you bring it up, you young muff?" inquired his lord. "Because it's got to be signed for, and he wouldn't let me do that for you." "Like your cheek to think of such a thing. What's it like?" "Oh, it's in a little box. I say, Newcome, shall we go and get it?" "I can't go at present; it'll wait, I suppose," said Charlie, with the air of a man who was daily in the habit of receiving little boxes by the carrier. But for all that he could not wholly conceal his curiosity. "What size box?" he asked presently. "About the size of a good big pill-box." "All that? I dare say I can fetch that up by myself," said Charlie. Size of a large pill-box! It could not be anything so very important after all. So he turned again to his Cicero, and sent the fag about his business. Presently, however, that youth returned with a letter for Charlie. It ran thus: "Dear Young Scamp, "People always say bachelor uncles are fools, and I think they are right. I've sent you a proof of my folly in a little box, which ought to reach you about the same time as this letter. You've done nothing to deserve a present from me, and a box on the ears would be much better bestowed. Never mind. Take care of this little gift for me, in memory of the jolly Christmas you and I last spent together, and when you are not kicking up a row with your cronies at Randlebury or have nothing better to do, think of your affectionate "Uncle Ralph." Much to the fag's astonishment, Charlie, having perused this letter, slammed up Cicero, and seizing the cap from off his (the fag's) head, as being most ready to hand, dashed out of school in the direction of the village. "Trot!" he exclaimed, as he reached the establishment of that familiar merchant, "hand up that little box, you old villain! Do you hear?" The long-suffering Trotter, to whom this address was comparatively polite in its phraseology, was not long in producing the parcel, in acknowledgment of which Charlie gave his sign manual in lordly characters upon the receipt; and then, burning with impatience, yet trying hard to appear unconcerned, walked swiftly back to the school. The fag was hanging about his study, scarcely less curious than himself. "Hook it!" cried his master, putting the parcel down on the table and taking out his penknife to cut the string. Still the inquisitive fag lingered. Whereupon Charlie, taking him kindly yet firmly by the collar of his coat, conveyed him to the open window, whence he gently dropped him a distance of six feet to the earth. Privacy being thus secured, he turned again to his parcel and opened it. Imagine his delight and my agony when there came to light a splendid gold watch and chain! I turned faint with jealousy, and when a second glance showed me that the interloper was no other than the identical gold repeater whom I had known and dreaded in my infancy, I was ready to break my mainspring with vexation. To me the surprise had brought nothing but foreboding and despair, and already I felt myself discarded for my rival; but to Charlie it brought a rapture of delight which expressed itself in a whoop which could be heard half over the school. "What on earth's the row?" said a head looking in at the door; "caught cold, or what?" "Come here, Jim, this moment; look at this!" And Jim came and looked, and as he looked his eyes sparkled with admiration. "My eye, Charlie, what a beauty!" said he, taking up the treasure in his hand. His thumb happened to touch the spring on the handle, and instantly there came a low melodious note from inside the repeater--One, two, three, and then a double tinkle twice repeated. "That's striking," observed Jim, who was occasionally guilty of a pun. "Why, it's a repeater!" "So it is! Did you ever know such a brick as that uncle of mine?" "It's a pity your people can't think of anything else but watches for presents. Why, what a donkey you made of yourself about that silver turnip when you first had it! Don't you remember? What's to become of it, by the by?" "How do I know? I say, Jim, this one wasn't got for nothing." And then the boys together investigated the wonders of the new watch, peeping at its works and making it strike, till I was quite sick of hearing it. But then I was jealous. There was no more Cicero for Charlie that day. He was almost as ridiculous, though not so rough, with his new treasure as he had been with me. He turned me out of my pocket to make room for it; and then half a dozen times a minute pulled it out and gloated over it. At night he put us both under his pillow, little dreaming of the sorrow and disappointment that filled my breast. Where were all the old days now? Who would admire or value _me_, a poor, commonplace silver drudge, now that this grand, showy rival had come and taken my place? In my anger and excitement my heart beat fast and loud, so loud that presently I heard a voice beside me saying,-- "Gently, there, if you please; no one can hear himself speak with that noise." "I've more right to be here than you," I growled. "That is as our mutual master decides; but surely I have heard your voice before! Let me look at you." And he edged himself up, so as to get a peep at my shabby face. "To be sure--my young friend the three-guinea silver watch? How do you do, my little man?" This patronage was intolerable, and I had no words to reply. "Ah! you find it difficult to converse. You must indeed be almost worn out after the work you have had. I am indeed astonished to see you alive at all. I am sure, in my master's name, I may be allowed to thank you for your praiseworthy exertions in his service. We are both much obliged to you, and hope we shall show ourselves not unmindful of your--" "Brute!" was all I could shriek, so mad was I, Whether my rival would have pursued his discourse I cannot say, but at that instant a hand came fumbling under the pillow. It passed me by, and sought the repeater, and next moment the tinkling chimes sounded half-past eleven. It was as much as I could endure to be thus slighted and triumphed over. "Contemptible creature!" I exclaimed; "you may think you've a fine voice, but, like a simpering schoolgirl, you can't sing till you're pressed!" I had him there, surely! "Better that than having no voice at all, like some people, or using it when no one wants to hear it, like others." I suppose he thought he had me there, the puppy! He went on chiming at intervals during the night, and of course my master had very little rest in consequence. The next day Charlie and Jim had a solemn confabulation as to the disposal of me. "It's no use wasting it, you know," said Jim. "Pity you haven't got a young brother to pass it on to." "Suppose you take it," said the generous Charlie. "No, old man, I don't want it. I'm not so mad about tickers as you. But, I tell you what, Charlie, you might like Tom to have it. He's leaving, you know, and it would be a nice reminder of Randlebury." "Just what I thought directly the new one came," exclaimed Charlie, "only then I remembered we had a row about this very watch three years ago, and I'm afraid he wouldn't like it." "Try. Old Tom would be quite set up with a watch." Charlie proceeded that same day in quest of Tom, whom he found packing up his books and chemicals in a large trunk. To him my master exhibited his new treasure, greatly to Drift's delight. "Why, Charlie," he said, "I don't know much about watches, but I'm certain that's worth twenty pounds." "No!" exclaimed Charlie; "you don't mean that." "Yes, I do; but, for all that, I'll back your old turnip to keep as good time as it." "It's always gone well, the old one. I'm glad you like it, Tom." "I always liked it, you know." "Why?" "Well, I've known it as long as I've known you, and if it hadn't been for it things might have been different." "Yes," said Charlie, "it was the cause of all the row three years ago." "And if it hadn't been for that row I should have gone to the bad long ago. That was a lucky row for me, Charlie, thanks to you." "Don't say that, old man, because it's a cram." "I say, Tom," added Charlie nervously, coming to his point, "will you do me a favour?" "Anything in the world. What is it?" "Take my old watch, Tom. It's not worth much, you know, but it may be useful, and it will help to remind you of old days. Will you, Tom?" Tom's lips quivered as he took me from Charlie's outstretched hand. "Old boy," said he, "I'd sooner have this than anything else in the world. Somehow I feel I can't go wrong as long as I have it." Charlie was beyond measure delighted to find his present accepted with so little difficulty. "Oh, Tom," he said, "I am glad to think you'll have it, and I know you'll think of me when you use it." "Won't I?" said Tom. "I say, Charlie, I wish you were coming to London with me." "So do I. Never mind, we'll often write, and you'll promise to let me know how you are getting on, won't you?" "Yes." "And you'll call and see my father pretty often, won't you?" "Yes." "And you'll keep yourself free for a week's jaunt at Easter?" "Yes." They had much more talk that evening, which lasted till late. What they talked about it is not for me to repeat, and if it were it would probably not interest my reader. He would perhaps be disappointed to find that a considerable part of it related to a new suit of Tom's, just arrived from the tailor's, and that another part had reference to Tom's intention to prevail on his landlady in London to allow him to support a bull-dog puppy on her premises. These subjects, deeply interesting to the two friends, would not improve with repetition; and neither would the rest of their talk, which was chiefly a going over of old times, and a laying of many a wondrous scheme for the future. Suffice it to say, on this last evening the two boys unbosomed themselves to one another, and if Tom Drift went off to bed in a sober and serious frame of mind, it was because he and Charlie both had thought and felt a great deal more than they had spoken during the interview. The packing went on at the same time as the talk, and then the two friends separated, only to meet once more on the morrow for a hurried farewell. "Let's have a last look at him," said Charlie, as Tom was getting into the cab to go. Tom took me out and handed me to him. Long and tenderly my dear young master looked at me, then, patting me gently with his hand as if I were a child, he said,-- "Good-bye, and be good to Tom Drift; do you hear?" If a tick could express anything, my reply at that moment must have satisfied him his parting wish would not be forgotten. Then returning me to my new master, he said,-- "Good-bye, old boy; joy go with you. We'll hear of you at the head of your profession before Jim and I have left school." "Not quite so soon," replied Tom, laughing. Then came a last good-bye, and the cab drove off. As it turned the corner of the drive Tom leaned out of the window and held me out in his hand. Long shall I remember that parting glimpse. He was standing on the steps with Jim waving his hands. The sun shone full on him, lighting up his bright face and curly head. I thought as I looked, "Where could one find his equal?"--_Sans peur et sans reproche_--"matchless for gentleness, honesty, and courage," and felt, as the vision faded from me, that I should never see another like him. And I never did. Little, however, did I dream in what strange way I was next to meet Charlie Newcome. CHAPTER ELEVEN. HOW TOM DRIFT MADE ONE START IN LONDON, AND PREPARED TO MAKE ANOTHER. The two months that followed my departure from Randlebury were melancholy and tedious. It was hard for me, after the boisterous surroundings of a public school, to settle down to the heavy monotony of a dull lodging in a back street of London; and it was harder still, after being the pride and favourite of a boy like Charlie Newcome, to find myself the property of Tom Drift. Not that Tom used me badly at first. He wound me up regularly, and for the sake of his absent friend honoured me with a considerable share of his affection. Indeed, for the first week or so he was quite gushing, scarcely letting me out of his sight, and sometimes even dropping a tear over me. And I, remembering Charlie's last words, "Be good to Tom Drift," felt glad to be able to remind my new master of old times, and keep fresh the hopes and resolutions with which Charlie had done so much to inspire him. But Tom Drift, I could not help feeling, was not a safe man. There was something lacking in him, and that something was ballast. No one, perhaps, ever had a greater theoretical desire to be all that was right and good, but that was not in itself enough. In quiet, easy times, and with a guiding friend to help him, Tom Drift did well enough; but left to himself amid currents and storms he could hardly fail to come to grief, as we shall presently see. For the first two months he stuck hard to his work he was regular at lectures, and attentive when there; he spent his spare time well in study bearing upon the profession for which he was preparing; he wrote and heard once a week from Charlie; he kept clear of the more rackety of his fellow-students; he spent his Sundays at Mr Newcome's house, and he took plenty of healthy exercise both for body and mind. With many examples about him of industry and success he determined to make the most of his time as a student, and spoke of the life and sphere of a country doctor, for which he was training, with the enthusiasm of one whose heart is in his work. "The more I think of it," he once wrote to his mother, who was residing abroad for her health, "the more I take to it. A good doctor is the best-liked man in his parish. Everybody comes to him in their trouble. He gets into the best society, and yet makes himself loved by the poorest. In four or five years at least I ought to get through my course here, and then there is nothing to prevent my settling down at once. By that time I hope you'll be well enough to come and keep house for me, for all country doctors, you know, are bachelors," and so on. All this was very well, and, as one of Tom's friends, I rejoiced to see him thus setting himself in earnest to the duties of his calling. But I rejoiced with trembling. Although he kept clear, for the most part, of his fellow-students, choosing his friends charily and shyly, I could yet see that he had no objection to contemplate from a distance the humours and festivities of his more high-spirited companions. He was not one of those impulsive fellows who shut their eyes and take a header into the midst of a new good-fellowship, only to discover too late their error, and repent their rashness at leisure. No, Tom had his eyes open. He saw the evil as well as the good, and, alas for him, having seen it, he looked still! The students of Saint Elizabeth's Hospital were not on the whole a bad set. On Tom's arrival in London, however, he had the firm impression in his mind that all medical students were bad characters, and this foolish notion did him much harm. If two or three of them were to go off for a spree, his imagination would at once picture them in scenes and places such as no respectable man would like to frequent, whereas, if the truth were known, these misjudged young men had committed no greater crime than that of taking a boat up the river, or a drive in a dog-cart. If a group of them should be seen by him laughing and talking, he instinctively concluded their topic must be ribaldry, whereas they would perhaps be only joking at the expense of some eccentric professor, or else chaffing one of their own number. And so it happened that Tom failed in time to distinguish between the really bad and such as he only imagined to be bad; and from his habit of looking on at them and their doings from a studied distance, their presence began gradually and insensibly to exercise a very considerable influence over his mind. "After all," he would sometimes say to himself, "these fellows get on. They pass their exams, they pay their bills, they gain the confidence of their professors, and at the same time they manage to enjoy themselves. Perhaps I am a fool to take so much pains about the first three of these things, and to deny myself the fourth. Perhaps, after all, these fellows are not so bad as I have fancied, or perhaps I am prudish." And then the silly fellow, having once inclined to admit there was something to be said for medical students, and having before considered all bad alike, became tolerant all round, more particularly of the really bad set, who appeared to him to enjoy themselves the most. As his companions became more attractive to him, his work became less interesting. "Why should I grind and plod here," he said, "while every one else is enjoying himself? If young Charlie were here, I'm pretty sure _he'd_ be in for some of their sprees, and laugh at me for wearing my eyes out as I'm doing." And then he leaned back in his chair and took to wondering what the six fellows who started that afternoon for Richmond were doing. Smashing the windows of the "Star and Garter," perhaps, or fighting the bargees on the river, or capturing a four-in-hand drag, or disporting themselves in some such genial and truly English manner. And as Tom conjured up the picture he half envied them their sport. So he gradually became restless and discontented. The days were weary and the evenings intolerably dull. The visits to Mr Newcome were of course pleasant enough, but it was slow being cooped up an entire Sunday with two old people. On the whole, life in London was becoming stupid. One of the first symptoms of his altered frame of mind was the occasional neglect of his regular letter to Charlie. That ever-faithful young man wrote as punctually as clockwork. Every Thursday morning a letter lay on Tom's plate at breakfast-time, addressed in the well-known hand, and bearing the Randlebury post-mark. And jolly lively letters they were. I remembered one of them well. It came after two weeks' omission on Tom's part, and ran thus:-- "Dear Tom, "A pretty fellow you are to correspond with! Here am I, piping to you with all my might, but I can't get you to dance. I know what you'll tell me, you old humbug--`awfully hard grind'--`exam coming on'--`lectures day and night,' and rubbish like that. All very well, but look here, Thomas, don't fancy that your diligence in cutting off legs and arms can be an excuse for cutting yours truly in this heartless manner. Not having a letter of yours to answer, I don't know how I shall scrape up material enough for a yarn. There was a big football-match on Saturday, and Jim and I were in it. You should have seen me turning somersaults, and butting my head into the fellows' stomachs. Jim and I got shoulder to shoulder once in the game. You know old Howe? Well, he was running with the ball to wards our goal, and Jim and I were in front of him. I was nearest, and charged, and over I went like a ninepin; then Jim was on him, and over _he_ went too. However, I was up again in time to jump on Howe's back; but he shook me off on to the ground on my nose. Then Jim, having recovered, took _his_ fling, and a rare fling it was, for Howe dodged him just as he was at the top of a kangaroo leap, and left him looking very foolish in a sitting posture on the ground. However, in dodging, Howe had allowed me time to extricate my nose from the earth and make my third attempt. This time was more successful, for I got my hands round the ball; but I shouldn't have kept them there if Jim hadn't taken the opportunity of executing another astounding buck-jump, which landed him safe on his man's shoulders, where he stuck like a scared cat on the back of a somnambulist. So between us we brought our quarry to earth and gained no end of applause. Wasn't it prime? That's about all the news here, except that Willoughby is going to Trinity at Midsummer, and that Salter is laid up from the effects of an explosion of crackers in his trousers pockets. "I've taken a turn at reading hard, which may astonish you. The doctor told me, if I really thought of some day arraying my manly form in a scarlet jacket and wearing a sword, I ought to put it on with my mathematics, which are not my _forte_, you know. So now I'm drawing circles and triangles at every available moment, and my logarithm tables are thumbed almost to death. Don't imagine _you're_ the only burner of midnight oil. "I had a letter from home to-day. They were saying they hadn't seen you lately. I hope you'll go up when you can; it would be a charity to the dear old folk; besides, they are very fond of you--queer taste! How's the ticker? Give it a cuff from me for not reminding you to write the last two weeks. The repeater goes on all serene. It has already gained some notoriety, as I was publicly requested, before the whole Fifth, the other day, to abstain from evoking its musical talents in the course of the Latin prose lesson. Now I must shut up. Seriously, old man, don't overwork yourself, and don't bother to write unless you've time; but you know how welcome your letters are to "Your affectionate chum, "C.N." Of course Tom sat down and answered this letter at once, much reproaching himself for his past neglect. With the vision of Charlie before his eyes, and with the sound of his voice again in his ears, all his old resolutions and impulses returned that morning. He worked hard, and flung the trashy novel, over which he had been wasting his time the day before, into the fire; he went off to lectures with something like his old eagerness, and discharged his duties in the wards with interest and thoroughness; he refused to allow his mind to be distracted by the proceedings of his fellow-students, and he resolved to spend that very evening at Mr Newcome's. Tom Drift would probably have laughed at the idea that this sudden change was due entirely to Charlie's letter. To him it seemed like a spontaneous reassertion of its natural self by his mind, and a matter for such self-congratulation and satisfaction, that it at once covered the multitude of past omissions. Indeed, Tom felt very virtuous as he returned that afternoon to his lodgings; and so felt no need to look away from self to Him who alone can keep us from falling. He read Charlie's letter over again, and smiled at the idea of _his_ getting up mathematics in his spare time. "He's not the sort of fellow to stick to work of that sort," said Tom to himself, secretly comparing his own remarkable powers of application with those of his Randlebury friend. Then he sat down, and more than ever admiring and wondering at his own greediness for hard work, read till it was time to start for Mr Newcome's. It was a good long way, but being a fine evening, Tom determined to walk. He felt that after his work the fresh air would do him good, and besides, as he was in plenty of time, he could indulge himself in that very cheap and harmless luxury, an inspection of the shop windows as he went along. He therefore selected a longer and more crowded route than perhaps he need have done, and certainly, as far as the shops went, was rewarded for his pains. However, Tom seemed to me to have as much interest in watching the people who passed to and fro as in the shops. He amused himself by wondering where this one was going and what that one was doing. With his usual tendency, he chose to imagine they were all bent on mischief or folly, and because they happened to be in a certain street, and because in that street he had frequently heard some of his fellow- students speak of a low theatre, he jumped to the conclusion that every one he saw was bound for this place. Something impelled him to go himself and take an exterior survey of this mysterious and much-spoken- of building. He found it; and, as he expected, he found people thronging in, though not in the numbers he had anticipated. He stood and watched them for some time, and wondered what they were going to see. He went up and read the playbill. He read the name of the play, the titles of its acts, and the names of its actors. He wondered if the man who just then drove up in a hansom was one of the heroes of the piece, or whether he was one of the performers in the farce announced to follow the play. Still the people streamed in. There was no one he knew, and no one knew him. "Strange," thought he, "there are so many places in London where one could go and no one ever know it." He wished he could see what the place was like inside; it must surely be crowded by this time. Thus he dawdled for some time; then with a sigh and an effort he tore himself away and walked quickly on to the Newcomes' house. Their welcome was most cordial. "We were afraid," said Mr Newcome, "you had quite deserted us. Come in, it is pleasant to see you. We had a letter from Charlie only to- day, telling us to see you did not overwork yourself, and to make you come up here whether you would or not. Of course we could hardly follow such instructions literally." Tom spent a pleasant evening with the two good people. He always had found Mr Newcome a clever and very entertaining man--a man whom one feels all the better for talking to, and who naturally sets every guest in his house at ease. They talked much about Charlie and his prospects. They even consulted Tom as to the wisdom of yielding to the boy's desire for a military career, and Tom strongly supported the idea. Then Tom's own prospects were canvassed and highly approved of by both Mr, and Mrs Newcome. Tom already pictured himself settled down in his country practice, enjoying himself, doing good to others, and laying by a comfortable competency for future years. On the whole, he felt, as he quitted the hospitable roof of his genial friends, that he had rarely spent a more pleasant or profitable evening. People were thronging out of the theatre as he returned, and he could not resist the desire to stand and watch them; for a little. He wondered what they had seen, and whether those he saw had waited for the "farce," or was that still going on?--and he wondered if any people ever went into a theatre at so late an hour as eleven. Ah, Tom! he did not go in that night, or the next, but he was getting himself ready for the first step. Reader, do not mistake Tom's weakness and folly. He was not trying to persuade himself this place was a good one for him to enter; he was not thoughtlessly going in to discover too late that he had better have stayed out. No, Tom--rightly or wrongly--had made up his own mind that this theatre was a bad place, and _yet_ he had a desire to enter in! CHAPTER TWELVE. HOW TOM DRIFT BEGINS TO GO DOWNHILL. Time went on, and Tom Drift advanced inch by inch nearer the brink. He slipped, not without many an effort to recover himself, many a pang of self-reproach, many a vague hope of deliverance. "Be good to Tom Drift!" was ever ringing in my ears. But what could I do? He often neglected me for days. All I could do was to watch and tremble for what was coming. You who are so ready to call Tom a fool, and hug yourselves that you have more strength of character and resolution than he had, try to realise what were his perils and what were his temptations at that time, before you pass judgment. The dulness of those lodgings in Grime Street was often almost unbearable. When his work was done, and Tom looked out of the window and saw nothing but carts and cabs and tradesmen, and the dismal houses opposite, what wonder if he sometimes felt miserable? When he heard nothing but pattering footsteps down the pavement, the rumble of wheels and the street cries under his window, what wonder if he felt lonely and friendless? No footsteps stopped at _his_ door, no friendly face lightened _his_ dull study, no cheery laughter brought music to _his_ life. What wonder, I say, if he moped and felt discontented? What wonder if his thoughts wandered to scenes and places that contrasted forcibly with his dead-alive occupation? What wonder if he hankered after a "little excitement," to break the monotony of lectures, hard reading, and stupid evenings? "Ah," I hear you say, "there are plenty of things he might have done. It was his own fault if he was dull in London. I would have gone to the museums, the libraries, the concerts, the parks, the river, the picture galleries, and other harmless and delightful places of amusement. Why, I could not be dull in London if I tried. Tom Drift was an idiot." My dear friend, what a pity Tom Drift had not the advantage of your acquaintance when he was in London! But he had not. He had no friends, as I have said, except the Newcomes, whom he only visited occasionally, and as a matter chiefly of duty, and his anxiety to keep right at first had led him to reject and fight shy of friendships with his fellow- students. Doubtless it was his own fault to a large extent that he allowed himself to get into this dull, dissatisfied condition. If he had had a healthy mind like you, friend, it would not have happened. But instead of utterly scouting him as an idiot, rather thank God you have been spared all his weaknesses and all his temptations. Was Tom never to learn that there was a way--"The Way, the Truth, and the Life"--better than any he had yet tried, which would lead him straight through the tangled mazes of his London life? Was he never to discover that Friend, truer than all earthly friends, at Whose side he might brave each trial and overcome each temptation? Poor Tom! he walked in a way of his own? and trusted in no one better than himself; and that was why he fell. As I have said, he did not fall without an effort. I have known him one day buy a bad, trashy book, and the same evening, in a fit of repentance--for God's Spirit wonderfully strives with men--take and burn it to ashes in his grate. But I have also known him to buy the same book again the next day. I have known him to walk a mile out of his way to avoid a place of temptation; and yet, before his walk was done, find himself, after all, under the glare of its lamps. The moth hovers in wide circles round the candle before it ventures its wings in the flame. And so it was with Tom; but the catastrophe came at last. One evening about three weeks before the time fixed for the Easter trip with Charlie, Tom felt in tolerably dull. He had been neglecting his work during several days for novels of the lowest and most sensational type. Over these he had dawdled till his brain had become muddled with their unreal incidents and impure suggestions, and now that they were done he felt fit for nothing. He could not settle down to work, he had no friends to turn to, and so he put his hat on his head and sallied out into the streets to seek there the variety he could not find indoors. As usual, his steps led him to the low theatre about which he was so curious, and of which he heard so much from his fellow-students. It was half-past seven, and people were beginning to crowd round the door, waiting for it to open. Tom, standing on the other side of the pavement, watched them with a painful fascination. "Shall I go for once?" he asked himself. Then he strolled up to the playbill and read it. As he was doing so some one slapped him on the shoulder, and, turning quickly round, he found himself face to face with his old acquaintance Gus Burke and another youth. Gus, who was still small of stature, though fully nineteen years of age, was arrayed in the height of the fashion. As Tom regarded him he felt his own coat become more shabby and his hat older, and he wished he had brought his dogskin gloves and cane. Gus was smoking, too, a cigarette, and very distinguished and gentlemanly Tom thought it looked. He felt, as he regarded his brilliant and unexpected acquaintance, that he was rather glad those people who were standing at the theatre door should see him accosted in so familiar a way by such a hero. And Gus's friend was no less imposing--more so, indeed, for he wore an eyeglass. Tom was so astonished at this unexpected meeting that he had noticed all this long before he found words to return his old schoolfellow's salutation. Gus, however, relieved him of his embarrassment. "Tom Drift, upon my honour! How are you, old horse, and how's your mother? Who'd have thought of running up against you like this?" Tom tried to look as much at his ease as he could as he replied,-- "Why, Gus, old man, where _did_ you spring from? I didn't know you were in London." "Ain't I, though!" replied Gus, tapping the end of his cigarette on his cane. "But what are you up to, Tom?--you're not going in here, are you?" pointing over his shoulder to the theatre. "Well, no," said Tom; "that is," added he, with as much of a swagger as he could assume on the spur of the moment, "I had been half thinking of just seeing what it was like. Some of our fellows, you know, fancy the place." How suddenly and easily he was, under the eyes of these two "swells," casting off the few slender cords that still held him moored to the shore. "Oh, don't go in there," said Gus, with a look of disgust; "it's the slowest place in London--nothing on but that old fool Shakespeare's plays, or somebody's equally stupid. You come along with us, Tom, we'll take you to a place where you'll get your money's worth and no mistake. Won't we, Jack?" The youth appealed to as Jack answered with a most affected drawl, and with an effort which appeared to cause him no little fatigue, "Wathah." "Come along," said Gus, lighting a fresh cigarette. Tom was uncomfortable. He would not for worlds seem unwilling to go, and yet he wished he could get out of it somehow. "Very kind of you," he said, "I'd like it awfully; but I must get back to do some work, you know, I've an exam coming on. It's an awful nuisance!" "Why, I thought you were going in here, in any case!" said Gus. "Ah--well--yes, so I was, just for a little, to see what sort of affair it was; but I meant to be home by nine." "Well, just have a squint in at our place; and if you must go, you must. Come along, old man; cut work for one evening, can't you? You've become an awfully reformed character all of a sudden; you usen't to be so hot on your books." Tom had no ambition before these two to figure in the light of a reformed character, and he therefore abandoned further protest, and proceeded to accompany Gus and his friend down the street. "Have a weed?" asked Gus. "Thanks, I hardly ever smoke," said Tom. "They're very mild," said Gus, with a sneer. Tom took the proffered cigar without another word, and did his best first to light and then to smoke it as if he were an experienced smoker. "Who's your fwend?" inquired Gus's languid acquaintance. "By the way," said that young man, "I've never introduced you two. Mortimer, allow me to introduce you to my friend Tom Drift." Mr Mortimer gave a nod which Tom felt he would like greatly to have at his command, there was something so very knowing and familiar about it. "It was Tom got up that little race party I was telling you of, Jack, you know. He's a regular sporting card. By the way, what's become of that little mooney-face prig we took with us that day; eh, Tom?" Tom was out in midstream now, floating fast out to sea. "Who--oh, young Newcome?" said he; "he's still at Randlebury." "Young puppy! You never knew such a spree as that was, Jack," said Gus; and then he launched forth into a highly-spiced account of the eventful expedition to Gurley races, contriving to represent Tom as the hero of the day, greatly to that youth's discomfort and confusion, and no less to the amusement of Mr Mortimer. "Here we are at last," said Gus, as the trio arrived at a gorgeously illuminated and decorated restaurant. Tom's heart sunk within him. More than ever did he wish himself back in his dull lodgings, never again to set foot abroad, if only he could have got out of this fix. But there was no drawing back. "Shall we go in yet, or knock the balls about for a bit?" said Gus. "This fellow Tom's a regular swell at billiards. Do you remember thrashing me last time we met, Tom--the summer after I'd left Randlebury?" Tom could not deny he had beaten Gus on the occasion referred to, and felt it was useless for him to protest--what was the case--that he was only a very indifferent player. He agreed to the idea of a game, however, as he hoped he might at its close be able to make his escape without accompanying his two companions to the music-hall attached to the restaurant, and which he already knew by reputation as one of the lowest entertainments in London. "You two play," said Gus, "and I'll mark. You'll have to give Jack points, Tom, you know, you're such a dab." It was vain for Tom to disclaim the distinction, and the game began. "Hold hard!" said Gus, after the first stroke; "what are you playing for?" "Weally, I don't know; thillingth, I thuppothe," lisped Mr Mortimer. "All serene! Go on." And they went on, and Mr Mortimer made no end of misses, so that, in spite of the points he had received, Tom beat him easily. In the two games which followed the same success attended him, and he won all the stakes. "Didn't I tell you he was a swell?" said Gus. "Upon my word, Tom, I don't know how you do it!" "It's just the sort of table I like to play on," said Tom, elated with his success, and unwilling to own that half his lucky shots had been "flukes." "I tell you what," said Gus; "you owe me my revenge, you know, from last time. I'll play you to-morrow for half-crowns, if you'll give me the same points as you did to Jack." Tom was fast nearing the breakers now. He had nothing for it but to accept the challenge, and the table was consequently engaged for the next evening. "I must be off now, you fellows!" he said. "Nonsense! Why, you haven't yet seen the fun below. You must stay for that." "I wish I could," faltered Tom; "but I really must do some reading to- night." "So you can; the thing only lasts an hour, and you're not obliged to go to bed at eleven, are you?" Still Tom hesitated. "You don't mean to say you are squeamish about it?" said Gus, in astonishment. "I could fancy that young friend of your mother's turning up _his_ eyes at it, but a fellow like you wouldn't be so particular, I reckon; eh, Jack?" And Mr John Mortimer, thus appealed to, laughed an amused laugh at the bare notion. That laugh and the term, "a fellow like you," destroyed the last of Tom's wavering objections, and he yielded. CHAPTER THIRTEEN. HOW TOM DRIFT, STILL GOING DOWNHILL, MET MY OLD MASTER. When Tom reached his lodgings that night he found a jubilant letter from Charlie awaiting him. "Just fancy," he said, "it's only three weeks more, old man, and then to Jericho with books, and test-tubes, and anatomy! I'll drag you out of your study by the scruff of your neck, see if I don't; I'll clap a knapsack on your back, and haul you by sheer force down into Kent. There you shall snuff the ozone, and hold your hat on your head with both hands on the cliff top. I'll hound you through old castles, and worry you up hills. If I catch so much as a leaflet on chemistry in your hands, I'll tear it up and send it flying after the sea-gulls. In short, I shouldn't like to say what I won't do, I'm so wild at the prospect of a week with you. Of course, the dear old people growl at me for leaving them in the lurch; but they are glad for us to get the blow; indeed, my pater insists on paying the piper, which is handsome of him. I expect I shall get a day in London on my way, either going or returning; and if you can put me up at your diggings for the night, we'll have a jolly evening, and you can show me all your haunts." Tom gasped as he got so far; and well he might. "I'll tell you all the news when I come. I suppose, by your not writing, you are saving yours up for me. Ta, ta, old boy, and _au revoir_ in twenty-one days! Hurrah! Yours ever,--C.N." Tom, in his misery, crushed the letter up in his fingers and flung it from him. If a passing pang shot through his breast, it was followed almost instantly by other feelings of vexation and shame. One moment he was ready to sink to the floor in a passion of penitence and remorse-- the next, he was ready to resent Charlie's influence over him even at a distance, and to sneer, as Gus and his friend had done, at the boy's expense. His brain was too muddled with the excitement and the strange emotions of that evening to reason with himself; his head ached, and his mind was poisoned. "What right has the fellow always to be following me up in this way?" he asked. "I'm a fool to stand it. Why can't I do as I choose without his pulling a long face?" Thus Tom questioned, and thus he proved that it was Charlie's influence more than his letter that worried him; for what had the latter said, either in the way of exhortation or reproof? Then he threw himself on the bed, and lay with the wild memory of the evening crowding on his feverish mind. He rose, and, lighting a candle, endeavoured to read; but even his novel was flat and stupid, and in the midst of it he fell asleep, to dream of Gus and his friend all night long. Long ere he awoke my senses had left me, for he had neglected to wind me up. Next morning he went to lectures as usual. To his fellow- students he appeared the same shy, quiet youth he had always seemed; to Mr Newcome, whom he met in the street, he appeared still as Charlie's chosen and dear friend, ready for his holiday and rejoicing in the prospect of the coming meeting; to his professors he appeared still the same steady, hard-working student, bent on making his way in his profession. But to himself, alas! how altered, how degraded he appeared! In the midst of his duties his thoughts ran continually--now back to the strange experience of last evening, now forward to the doubtful events of this. The recollection of the past had lost a good deal of its repulsiveness after twelve hours' interval, and although he still felt it to be low and harmful, he yet secretly encouraged his curiosity to revisit the place of his temptation. "After all, it did me no harm," said he to himself; "it's not interfered with my work, or made me feel worse than before. What harm in going again to-night? When Charlie comes, and we get away from town, I shall easily be able to break it off; and besides, Charlie's sure to help to put me square; he always does. Yes; I think I'll just go and see what's on there to-night; it can't be worse than it was. Besides," thought he, glad to seize on any straw of excuse, "I'm bound in honour to play Gus a return match; it would be ungentlemanly to back out of that." But why sicken you, dear reader, and myself, with recapitulating the sad workings of this poor fellow's mind? The more he tried to convince himself he was doing only a slight wrong, the more his conscience cried out he was running to his ruin. But he stopped his ears and shut his eyes, and blindly dared his fate. He went that evening to the music- hall. He met Gus and Mortimer, and two other friends. He had taken care to get himself up in a nearer approach to his companions' style. He bought some cigars of his own on the way, and offered them with a less awkward swagger than he had been able to assume the night before. He found himself able to nod familiarly to the barmaid, and fancied that even Mortimer must have approved of the way in which he ordered about the billiard-marker. In the match with Gus for half-crowns he lost, though only narrowly--so narrowly that he was not content, without a further trial of skill, to own himself beaten, and therefore challenged his adversary to a second meeting the next evening. Then he watched the others play, and betted with Mortimer on the result--and alas! for him, he won. It was Tom himself who said, at nine o'clock,-- "And now, suppose we see what's going on below." It was the same stupid, disgusting spectacle, but to Tom it seemed less repulsive than he had found it the night before. True, he at times felt a return of the old feeling of shame; the blush would occasionally suffuse his face; but such fits were rare, and he was able to carry them off more easily with joke and laughter. "Jack," said Gus in a whisper to Mortimer, as Tom, after accepting a very broad hint to treat the party to spirits, was turning to go, "that fellow will be a credit to you and me. Did you see how he smacked his lips over the play, and yet all the while wanted to make us think he saw that sort of thing every day of his life, eh? He's a promising chap, eh, Jack?" "Wathah," replied Jack, laughing. Meanwhile Tom, glad enough to get out into the pure air, though in not so desperate a case as the night before, shouldered his way among the loitering company towards the door. He was just emerging into the street, when the sound of voices arrested him. "That's one of our men, isn't it?" said one. "Why, so it is; I fancied he was anything but a festive blade. Yes; and upon my word he's half seas over!" Tom had no difficulty in discovering that these hurried words had reference to him, and turning instinctively towards the voices, he found himself face to face with two, reputedly, of the wildest of his fellow- students. Gladly would he have avoided them; gladly would he have shrunk back and lost himself in the crowd, but it was too late now; he stood discovered. "How are you?" cried one of the two, as he passed; "isn't your name Drift?" Tom stared as if he would have denied his name; but the next moment he put on his lately acquired swagger, and said, "Yes." "Ah! I thought so; one of the Saint Elizabeth men. Hullo! he's in a hurry, though," added he, as Tom made a dive forward and strode rapidly down the street. It was but a step deeper. Well he knew that by to-morrow every one of his fellow-students would know of him as a frequenter of that wretched place. Well he knew that, as far as they were concerned, the mask of shyness and reticence under which he had sheltered in their midst was for ever pulled away. "One of us," indeed! So truly the very worst of them might now speak and think of him. Oh, if he had but considered in time; if he had but stemmed this flood at its source! But it was too late now. And he strode home reckless and hardened. The next day, as he expected, every one seemed to know of his visits to the music-hall. The two who had seen him accosted him with every show of friendship and intelligence. He was appealed to in the presence of nearly a dozen of his fellow-students as to the name of one of the low songs there given; he was asked if he was going to be there to-night, and he was invited to join this party and that in similar expeditions to similar places. And to all these questions and greetings he was constrained to reply in keeping with his assumed character of a gay spark. How sick, how vile he felt; yet in that one day how hardened and desperate he became! It was not in Tom Drift to cry "I have sinned! I will return!" No, once loose from his moorings, he let himself float down the stream, watching the receding banks in mute despair, raising no shout for succour, venturing no plunge for safety. You, who by this time have given him up, disgusted at his weakness, his vanity, his low instincts, his cowardliness--who say let him wallow in the mire he has prepared for himself, who know so glibly what you would have done, what you would have said, what you would have felt, remember once more that Tom Drift was not such as you; and unfortunately did not know you. He was not gifted with your heroic resolution or your all- penetrating wisdom. He was an ordinary sinful being of flesh and blood, relying only on his own poor strength; and therefore, reader, try to realise all he went through before you fling your stone. The toils were closing round him fast. His will had been the first to suffer, his conscience next. Then with a rush had gone honour, temperance, and purity; and now finally the flimsy rag, his good name, had been torn from him, and he stood revealed a prodigal--and a hypocrite. Even yet, however, help might have been forthcoming. "I say, you fellow," said one of his fellow-students this same day, "I've never spoken to you before, and perhaps shall never do so again; but _don't be a fool_!" "What do you mean?" said Tom sharply. "Only this, and I can't help it if you are angry, keep clear of these new friends of yours, and still more, keep clear of the places they visit. If you've been led in once, rather cut off your right hand than be led in again, that's all!" What spirit of infatuation possessed Tom Drift, that he did not spring for very life at the proffered help, that he did not besiege this friend, however blunt and outspoken, and compel his timely aid? Alas, for his blindness and folly! Scowling round at the speaker, he muttered an oath, and said, "What on earth concern is it of yours who my friends are and where I go? Mind your own business." And so, thrusting rudely away the hand that might, by God's grace, have saved him, he swept farther and farther out towards the dark waters. One final and great hope was still reserved for him, and that was Charlie's visit. But to Tom that prospect was becoming day by day mere distasteful. As the days wore on, and Tom sunk deeper and deeper into the snare prepared for him, the thought of a week in the society of one so upright and pure as Charlie became positively odious. The effort to conceal his new condition would be almost impossible, and yet to admit it to him would be, he felt, to shatter for ever the only friendship he really prized. He racked his brain for expedients and excuses to avert the visit, but without avail. If he pleaded illness Charlie would be the first to rush to his bedside; if he pleaded hard work Charlie would insist on sharing it, or improving its few intervals of rest; if he pleaded disinclination Charlie would devise a hundred other plans to please him. In short, Charlie's visit was inevitable, and as he looked forward to it he writhed in misgiving and anxiety. His visits to the music-hall were meanwhile continuing, and his circle of acquaintance at that evil haunt enlarging. He was duly installed as one of the "fast set" at Saint Elizabeth's, and under its auspices had already made his _debut_ at other scenes and places than that of his first transgression. He was known by sight to a score of billiard- markers, potmen, blacklegs, and lower characters still, and was on nodding terms with fully half of them. He had lost considerably more than he had gained at billiards, and was still further emptying his purse at cards. Quick work for a few weeks! So quickly and fatally, alas! Will the infection, once admitted, spread, especially in a patient whose moral constitution has undergone so long a course of slow preparation as Tom's had. The day came at last. Tom had carefully hidden away his worst books and his spirits; he had bathed his face half a dozen times, to remove the traces of last night's intemperance he had gathered together from the corners where they had for so long lain neglected the books and relics of his Randlebury days, and restored them to their old places; he had brightened me up, and he had taken pains to purify his room from the smell of rank tobacco; and then he sauntered down to the station. How my heart beat as the train came into the platform! _His_ head was out of the window, and _his_ hand was waving to us a hundred yards off; and the next minute he had burst from the carriage, and seized Tom by the hands. "How are you, old Tom? I thought we'd never get here; how glad I am to set eyes on you! Isn't this a spree?" And not waiting for Tom's answer he hauled his traps out of the carriage in a transport of delight. Still the same jovial, honest, fine-hearted boy. "Hi! here! some of you," he shouted to a porter, "look after these things, will you, and get us a cab. I tell you what, Tom, you've got to come up home with me first, and we can have dinner there; then I'll come on to your den, and we can pack our knapsacks and sleep, and then start by the five train to-morrow morning." Thus he bustled, and thus he brought back the old times on poor Tom Drift. Without the heart to speak, he helped his friend to collect his luggage, and when they were fairly started in the cab he even smiled feebly in reply to the boy's sallies. "Tom, you rascal, didn't I tell you you weren't to knock yourself up, eh? Why can't you do what you're told? Why, I declare you're as thin as a hurdle, and as black under the eyes as if you had been fighting with a collier. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Look at me; do all I can I can't get up an interesting pallor like you, and I've fretted enough over those conic sections (comic sections Jim always calls them). Never mind! Wait till I get you down to the sea." And so he rattled on, while Tom leaned back in his seat and winced at every word. When they reached Mr Newcome's of course there was a scene of eager welcome on one side and boisterous glee on the other. Tom, as he looked on, sighed, as well he might, and wished he could have been spared the torture of this day. Charlie tore himself away from his mother, to drag his friend into the house. "Look at this object!" he cried; "did you ever see such a caution to students? If we do nothing else in Kent we shall scare the crows, eh, Tom?" "Charlie!" exclaimed his mother; "you have come home quite rude! I hope you'll excuse him, Mr Drift." Mr Drift said nothing, and looked and felt extremely miserable. "He looks really ill, poor fellow!" said Mrs Newcome to her husband. "I wonder they allow the students to overwork themselves in that way." And then they sat down to dinner--a meal as distasteful to Tom as it was joyful to Charlie and his parents. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. HOW TOM DRIFT PARTED WITH HIS BEST FRIEND. Charlie could not fail to discover before long that there was something wrong with my master. Never before had he known him so silent, so spiritless, so mysterious. No effort could rouse him into cheerfulness or conversation, and for the first time for three years Charlie felt that Tom was sorry to see him. Naturally, he put it all down to the results of overwork. Tom in his letters had always represented himself as engrossed in study. Even the few hurried scrawls of the past few weeks he had excused on the same ground. It never once occurred to the simple-minded schoolboy that a chum of his could possibly be struggling in the agonies of shame and temptation and he know nothing of it; he who knew so little of evil himself, was not the one to think or imagine evil where any other explanation was possible. And yet Tom's manner was so strange and altered, that he determined, as soon as they should find themselves alone, to make an effort to ascertain its cause. The opportunity came when the two youths, having bid farewell to Mr and Mrs Newcome, found themselves at last in Tom's lodgings in Grime Street. "Well," said Charlie, with all the show of cheerfulness he could muster, for his spirits had been strangely damped by the irresponsive gloom of his old schoolfellow--"well! here's the den at last. Upon my word, old man, I've seen livelier holes! Why don't you explore and find some place a trifle less dead-alive? But I dare say it's convenient to be near the Hospital, and when a fellow's working, it doesn't much matter what sort of a place he's in, as long as there's not a row going on under his window--and I don't suppose there's much chance of that here," said Charlie, looking out into the black street with a kind of shudder. Tom said nothing; he wished his friend would not everlastingly be talking of hard work and study in the way he did. However Charlie intended it, it was neither more nor less than a talking at him, and that he could not stand. Charlie took no notice of his silence, but continued his inspection of the dismal apartment, lighting up with pleasure at the sight of the old Randlebury relics. "My old rod!" exclaimed he, taking down the very rod with the lance-wood top which had figured so conspicuously in a certain adventure three years ago; "how jolly to see it again! I'm afraid you don't get much use for it here. And our fencing-sticks, too; see, Tom, here's the very place where you got under my guard and snipped a bit out of the basket. Ha, ha! what a crack that was! And here's the picture of old Randlebury, with you at your window, and me lying on the grass (and looking uncommonly like a recently felled tree). Look here, Tom, this window here is where Jim and I hang out now. It used to be Callaghan's. By the way, do you ever see Call? He's in London, articled to a solicitor. A pretty lawyer he'll make! Have you seen him yet, Tom?" Tom, during this rattle, had been looking listlessly out of the window. He now turned round with a start and said-- "Eh? what did you say?" The look which accompanied the words was so haggard and miserable, that Charlie's pity was instantly touched. He stepped across the room and put his arm in Tom's as he stood, and said,-- "Tom, old boy, what's wrong?" Tom said nothing, but walked away and leaned against the mantelpiece. "What is it, Tom? Are you ill, or in trouble? You'll tell me, won't you?" Tom still remained silent, but his flushing face and restless lips showed that the appeal had at least been heard. "Old boy," continued Charlie, venturing again nearer, "we never used to have secrets. I'm sure something's the matter. Mayn't I know what it is? Very likely I can't help you; but I could try." Tom's lips quivered. The old influence was fast coming back. Already in his mind he was picturing himself telling Charlie all and with his help extricating himself from the slough into which he had sunk. How _could_ he stand unmoved with that voice, familiar by many a memory of simple courageous goodness, again falling on his ear; and that appealing face, one so loved and delighted in, again turned to his? "I'm afraid it's something more than ill health, old boy. You've something on your mind. Oh! why won't you at least tell me what it is?" Tom could stand it no longer. He _must_ speak. Whatever the confession cost him, whatever its effect would be on his old schoolfellow's friendship, Charlie must know all. To him at least he could not play the hypocrite or the deceiver. He had turned from the mantelpiece, his hand was held out to take that of his friend's, he was just about to speak, when the door of his room opened, and there entered Gus, Mortimer, and two companions. "Here he is!" cried Gus, not noticing that Tom had company. "Tommy, old man, you're in luck. Old Owl has got a supper on to-night, no end of punch, my boy, and he's expecting you; and afterwards we're going for a regular night of it to the-- Hullo! who's your friend?" He caught sight of Charlie at this moment, and for an instant failed to recognise in Tom's companion the boy whom he had treated so shamefully at Gurley races. But he remembered him in a moment. "What, surely--yet upon my honour so it is, our young sporting friend. How are you, Charlie, my boy? Here's a game! You'll come too, of course? Mortimer, this fellow is Drift's special--up to all the wrinkles, no end of a knowing blade." During this brief and rapid salutation Tom and Charlie, I need hardly say, were speechless. One in utter despair, the other in utter rage and astonishment. In both the revulsion of feeling caused by the interruption was almost stupefying, and they stood for a moment staring at the intruders in simple bewilderment. Tom was the first to find words. His cheeks were white, and his voice almost choked as he said to Gus,-- "I wish you'd go. I'm engaged." "So you are," said Gus, with a sneer; "but I say. Tom, old man, I wish you'd come. It's too good a thing to miss." "Go away!" almost gasped Tom. "Oh, of course an Englishman's house is his castle," said Gus, offended at this unusual rebuff; "you're a fool, though, that's all. We were going to have a spree to-night that would make all sprees of the past month look foolish. Come along, don't be an ass; and bring young mooney-face; I dare say by this time he knows what's what as well as you or me, Tom; eh, Jack?" "Lookth tho," replied the amused Jack. By this time Charlie had found words. The truth of course had all flashed in upon him; he knew the secret now of Tom's strange manner, of the neglected letters, of the haggard looks, of the reluctant welcome. And he knew, too, that but for this untimely incursion he would have heard it all from Tom himself, penitent and humble, instead of, as now, hardened and desperate. And he recognised in the miserable little swaggering dandy before him the author and the promoter of his friend's ruin; on him therefore his sudden rage expended itself. "You little cowardly wretch!" he exclaimed, addressing Gus, "haven't you done mischief enough to Tom already? Go out of his room!" Poor Charlie! Nothing could have been more fatal to his hopes than this rash outbreak. The words had scarcely escaped his lips before he saw the mischief he had done. Tom's manner suddenly altered. All signs of shame and penitence disappeared as he stepped with a swagger up to Charlie and exclaimed,-- "What business have you to attack my friends? Get out yourself!" "Bravo, Tom, old man," cried the delighted Gus. "Do you hear, young prig? walk off, you're not wanted here." Charlie stood for one moment stunned and irresolute. Had there been in Tom's face the faintest glimmer of regret, or the faintest trace of the old affection, he would have stayed and braved all consequences. But there was neither. The spell that bound Tom Drift, his fear of being thought a milksop, had changed him utterly, and as Charlie's eyes turned with pleading look to his they met only with menace and confusion. "Go!" repeated Tom, driven nearly wild by the mocking laugh in which Mortimer and his two companions joined. This, then, was the end of their friendship--so full of hope on one side, so full of promise on the other. It was a strange moment in the lives of those two. To one it was the wilful throwing away of the last and best chance of deliverance, to the other it was the cruel extinction of a love and trust that had till now bid fair to stand the wear of years to come. "Get out, I say!" said Tom Drift, once more goaded to madness by the pitying sneers of Mortimer. Charlie stayed no longer. Half stunned, and scarcely knowing what he did, with one wild, mute prayer at his heart, he turned without a word and left the room. Tom's friends followed his departure with mocking laughter, and watched his slowly retreating figure down the street with many a foul jest, and then returned to congratulate Tom Drift on his deliverance. "Well," said Gus, "you are well rid of _him_, at any rate. What a lucky thing we turned up just when we did! He'd have snivelled you into a shocking condition. Why, what a weak-minded fellow Tom is; ain't he, Jack?" "Wathah," replied Jack, with a laugh. Meanwhile Tom had abandoned even himself. He hated his friends, he hated himself, he hated Charlie and cursed himself for having ever allowed him within his doors. He took no notice of Gus's gibes for a long time. At last, "Ugh!" said he, "never mind if I'm weak-minded or not, I'm sick of all this. Suppose we go off to the supper, and I'll stand treat afterwards at the music-hall?" And crushing his hat on his head, he dashed out of the house utterly reckless and desperate. Need I say my thoughts were with the poor injured boy, who, stung with ingratitude, robbed of his friend, and ill with mingled pity, dread, and sorrow, walked slowly down the street away from Tom's lodgings? Ah! when should I see his face or hear his voice again now? At the supper that evening Tom drank often and deeply, and of all the party his shout rose highest and his laugh drowned all the others. They led him staggering away among them, and brought him to their vile resort. Even his companions wondered at his reckless demeanour, and expostulated with him on his extravagant wildness. He laughed them to scorn and called for more drink. After a while they rose to depart, leaving him where he was, noisy and helpless. How long he remained so I cannot say, for suddenly and most unexpectedly I found myself called upon to enter upon a new stage in my career. As my master leaned back hopelessly tipsy in his seat, a hand quietly and swiftly slipped under his coat and drew me from my pocket; as swiftly the chain was detached from its button-hole, and the next thing I was conscious of was being thrust into a strange pocket, belonging to some one who was quitting the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. HOW I FOUND MYSELF IN VERY LOW COMPANY. My capturer was a boy, and as remarkable a specimen of a boy as it has ever been my lot to meet during the whole of my career. His age was, say, fourteen. He stood four feet one in his slipshod boots. The hat which adorned his head was an old white billycock, which in its palmy days might have adorned noble brows, so fashionable were its pretensions. Now, alas! it had one side caved in, and the other was green with wear and weather. The coat which arrayed his manly form was evidently one not made recently or to wearer's measure, for besides showing cracks and rents in various parts, its tails were so extravagantly long for its small occupant that they literally almost touched the ground. His nether garments, on the other hand, although they resembled the coat in their conveniences for ventilation, being all in rags and tatters, appeared to have been borrowed from a smaller pair of legs even than those owned by my present possessor, for they--at least one leg--barely reached half way below the knee, while the other stopped short very little lower. Altogether, the boy was as nondescript and "scarecrowy" an object as one could well expect to meet with. As he left the hall he gave a quick look round to assure himself no one was following him; then he darted across the road and proceeded to shuffle forward in so extremely leisurely and casual a way, that very few of the people who met him would have imagined he carried a stolen watch in his pocket. Such a hole as it was! As soon as I had sufficiently recovered from my astonishment to look about me, I became aware that I was by no means the sole occupant of the receptacle he was pleased to designate by the title of a pocket, but which other people would have called a slit in the lining of his one sound coat-tail. There was a stump of a clay pipe, with tobacco still hot in it. There was a greasy piece of string, a crust of bread, a halfpenny, a few brass buttons, and a very greasy and very crumpled and very filthy copy of a "penny awful" paper. I need hardly say that this scrutiny did not afford me absolute pleasure. In the first place, my temporary lodging was most unsavoury and unclean; and in the second place, there was not one among my many fellow-lodgers who could be said to be in my position in life, or to whom I felt in any way tempted to address any inquiry. This difficulty, however, was settled for me. A voice close beside me said, in a hoarse whisper, "What cheer, Turnip? how do you like it?" I looked round, and perceived that the speaker was the clay pipe, who happened to be close beside me as I lay. I held my nose--so to speak (for watches are not supposed to be gifted with that organ)--the tobacco which was smouldering in him must have been a month old, while the pipe itself looked remarkably grimy and dirty. However, thought I, there would be no use in being uncivil to my new comrades, unpleasant though they were, and I might as well make use of this pipe to assist me to certain information I was curious to get. So I answered, "I don't like it at all. Can you tell me where I am?" "Where are you, Turnip? Why, you're in young Cadger's pocket, to be sure; but you won't stay there long, no error." I secretly wished this objectionable pipe would not insist on addressing me as "Turnip," but on the whole the present did not seem exactly the time to stand on my dignity, so I replied,-- "Why, what's going to become of me?" "What's going to become of you, Turnip! Why, you'll go to Cadger's uncle. Won't he, mate?" The mate addressed was the piece of string, who, I should say, was by no means the latest addition to the Cadger's collection of valuables. He now grinned and wriggled in reply to the pipe's appeal, and snuffled,-- "That's right, mate; that's where he'll go. Do you hear, Turnip? that's where you'll go--to Cadger's uncle." It occurred to me that Cadger's uncle would have to be vastly more respectable and fragrant than his nephew to make the change at all advantageous to me. "Is young Cadger a thief?" I next inquired. The pipe laughed. "Why, what a funny chap you are, Turnip!" it said. "Does it look like it? Cadger a thief!--oh, my eye! not at all. Eh, mate?" The greasy string took up the laugh, and snivelled in chorus. "Ho, ho! ain't he a funny chap? Do you hear. Turnip? ain't you a funny chap? Oh, my eye! not at all." It was disgusting! Not only was I cooped up in an abominably filthy tail-coat pocket, with a motley rabble of disreputable associates, but every time I opened my lips here I was insulted and laughed at for every word I spoke. However, I gathered that the purport of the reply to my last inquiry was that the young Cadger _was_ a thief, and I made one more attempt to gain information. "Where are we going to now?" I asked. "Going!" cried the pipe, with his insulting jeer. "What, don't you know where you're a-going, old Turnip? You're a-going wherever he takes yer; ain't he, mate?" It was positively painful to see how that vile piece of string wriggled as he replied,-- "Do you hear, Turnip? You're a-going wherever young Cadger takes yer. Now what do you think of that?" It was impossible to continue a conversation with such low, ill-mannered creatures, and I therefore abandoned the attempt, having at least ascertained that I was at present located in a thief's pocket, that my immediate destination was vague, and that ultimately I might expect to become the property of a near relative of my present possessor. Noticing that I became silent, the pipe and the string between them began to question me. But I was neither in the mood nor the desire to gratify their curiosity. They therefore contented themselves with cracking jokes at my expense, and thus we journeyed together a mile or two towards our unknown destination. Presently a dirty little hand came groping down into our place of retreat. It first fumbled me and my chain, with a view, I suppose, to ascertain if we were all safe, and then proceeded among the other occupants of the pocket to secure and draw forth the half penny which I have before mentioned. I was relieved to have even one of my unpleasant companions removed, and could not refrain from expressing my feelings by a sigh. "What are you snivelling at, Turnip?" asked the pipe. I did not deign to reply. "Suppose yer think that there _sou_," (fancy the stump of a clay pipe speaking French!) "is gone for good, and good riddance, do yer? You wait a bit, that's all." "Boh, boh!" chimed in the string. "Do you hear, Turnip? Wait till you see the soldier; then see how you'll laugh!" "What soldier?" I inquired, my curiosity for a moment getting the better of my reserve. I could not imagine what possible connexion there could be between the military and the disreputable copper I had so lately seen depart. I was not long in suspense, however, for before my two vulgar companions could answer my question, the "soldier" made his appearance. The dirty little hand again entered our quarters, and let fall in our midst a red herring! At the sight and smell of him I turned sick with disgust. Fancy a silver watch sat upon, squeezed, and besmeared by a reeking red herring. He came sprawling right on the top of me, the brute, his ugly mouth wide open and his loathsome fins scraping along my back. Ugh! "That there's the soldier, Turnip; ain't it, mate?" called out the pipe. "Do you hear, Turnip? this here's the soldier. How do you like him?" snuffled the string. It was enough! I felt my nerves collapse, and my circulation fail, and for the remainder of that dreadful night I was speechless. I was not, however, blind, or so far gone as to be unable to notice in a vague sort of way what happened. The young gentleman rejoicing in the name of Cadger (but whose real cognomen I subsequently ascertained to be Stumpy Walker) proceeded on his walk, whistling shrilly to himself, exchanging a passing recognition with one and another loafer, and going out of his way to kick every boy he saw smaller than himself, which last exertion, by the way, at twelve o'clock at night he did not find very often necessary. I observed that he did not go out of his way to avoid the police; on the contrary, he made a point of touching his hat to every guardian of the peace he happened to meet, and actually went so far as to inform one that "he'd want his muckintogs before morning"--a poetical way of prophesying rain. He proceeded down a succession of back streets, which it would have puzzled a stranger to remember, till he came into a large deserted thoroughfare which was undergoing a complete renovation of its drainage arrangements. All along the side of the road extended an array of huge new pipes, some three feet in diameter, awaiting their turn underground. Into one of these Master Walker dived, and as it was just tall enough to allow of his sitting upright in its interior, and just long enough to allow his small person to lie at full length without either extremity protruding; and further, as the rain was just beginning to come down, I could not forbear, even in the midst of my misery, admiring his selection of a lodging. Greatly to my relief, the "soldier," the crust, and the pipe were all three presently summoned from the pocket, and with the help of the first two and the consolation of the last, Master Walker contrived to make an evening meal which at least afforded _him_ satisfaction. Before making himself snug for the night he pulled me out, and by the aid of the feeble light of a neighbouring lamp-post, made a hasty examination of my exterior and interior. Having apparently satisfied himself as to my value, he put me and the pipe back into his dreadful pocket, from which, even yet, the fumes of the "soldier" had not faded, and then curled himself up like a dormouse and composed himself to slumber. He had not, however, settled himself many moments before another ragged figure came crawling down the inside of the pipes towards him. Stumpy started up at the first sound in a scared sort of way, but instantly resumed his composure on seeing who the intruder was. "What cheer, Stumpy?" said the latter. "What cheer, Tuppeny?" replied my master. "Where've yer been to?" "Lunnon Bridge," replied Mr Tuppeny. "An' what 'ave yer got?" asked Stumpy. "Only a rag," said the other, in evident disgusts producing a white handkerchief. "That ain't much; I've boned a turnip." "Jus' your luck. Let's 'ave a look at him." Stumpy complied, and his comrade, lighting a match, surveyed me with evident complacency. "Jus' your luck," said he again. "Where did yer git 'im?" "At the gaff, off a young cove as was reg'lar screwed up. I could 'ave took 'is nose off if I'd a wanted it, and he wouldn't have knowed." "Then this 'ere rag might 'a been some use," replied the disconsolate Tuppeny. "'Tain't worth three'a'pence." "Any marks?" inquired my master. "Yees; there is so. C.N. it is; hup in one corner. He was sticking out of the pocket of a young chap as was going along with a face as long as a fooneral, and as miserable-lookin' as if 'e'd swallowed a cat." C.N.! Could this handkerchief possibly have belonged to poor Charlie Newcome? His way home from Grime Street I knew would lead by London Bridge, and with the trouble of that afternoon upon him, would he not indeed have looked as miserable as the thief described? And these two boys, having thus briefly compared notes, and exhibited to one another their ill-gotten gains, curled themselves up and fell fast asleep. Dear reader, does it ever occur to your mind that there are hundreds of such vagrants in this great city? Night after night they crowd under railway arches and sheds, on doorsteps and in cellars. They have neither home nor friend. To many of them the thieves' life is their natural calling; they live as animals live, and hope only as animals hope, and when they die, die as animals die; ignorant of God, ignorant of good, ignorant of their own souls. Yet even for such as they, Christ died, and the Spirit strives. The pipe, and his friend, the string, that night had a long conversation as their master lay asleep. They evidently thought I was asleep too, for they made no effort to conceal their voices, and I consequently heard every word. It chiefly had reference to me, and was in the main satirical. "Some coves is uncommon proud o' themselves, mate, ain't they?-- particular them as ain't much account after all?" "You're right, mate. Do you hear, Turnip? you ain't much account; you're on'y silver-plate, yer know, so you don't ought to be proud, you don't!" "What I say," continued the pipe, "is that coves as gives 'emselves hairs above their stations is a miserable lot. What do _you_ think?" "What don't I?" snuffled the string. "Do you hear, Turnip? you're a miserable cove, you are. Why can't you be 'appy like me and my mate? We don't give ourselves hairs; that's why we're 'appy." "And, arter all," pursued the pipe, "that's the sort of coves as go second-hand in the end. People 'ud think better on 'em if they didn't think such a lot of theirselves; wouldn't they now, mate?" "Wouldn't they just! What do you think of that, Turnip? You're on'y a second-hand turnip, now, and that's all along of being stuck-up and thinking such a lot of yourself! You won't go off for thirty bob, you won't see!" "Mate!" exclaimed the pipe, presently (after I had had leisure to meditate on the foregoing philosophical dialogue), "mate, I'll give you a riddle!" "Go it!" said the mate. "Why," asked the pipe, in a solemn voice, "is a second-hand pewter- plate, stuck-up turnip, like a weskit that ain't paid for?" "Do you hear, Turnip? Why are you like a weskit that ain't paid for? Do yer give it up? I do." "'Cos it's on tick!" pronounced the pipe. I could have howled to find myself the victim of such a low, villainous joke, that had not even the pretence of wit, and I could have cried to see how that greasy string wriggled and snuffled at my expense. "My eye, mate! that's a good 'un! Do you hear, Turnip? you're on tick, you know, like the weskit. Oh, my eye! that'll do, mate; another o' them will kill me. Oh, turn it up! do you hear? On tick!-- hoo, hoo, hoo! Do you hear, Turnip? _tick_!" Need I say I spent a sad and sleepless night? When my disgust admitted of thought I could not help reflecting how very happy some vulgar people can be with a very little sense, and how very unhappy other people who flatter themselves they are very clever and superior can at times find themselves. By the time I had satisfied myself of this my master uncurled himself and got up. CHAPTER SIXTEEN. HOW I CHANGED MASTERS TWICE IN TWO DAYS, AND AFTER ALL FOUND MYSELF IN PAWN. It was scarcely four o'clock when my lord and master arose from his brief repose, and sallied through the rain and darkness back in the direction of the city. He was far less anxious to salute the police now than he had been a few hours ago. He slunk down the back streets, and now and then darted up a court at the sound of approaching foot steps; or retreated for some distance by the way he had come, in order to strike a less guarded street. In this manner he pursued his way for about an hour, till he reached a very narrow street of tumble-down houses, not far from Holborn. Down this he wended his way till he stood before a door belonging to one of the oldest, dingiest, and most decayed houses in all the street. Here he gave a peculiar scrape with his foot along the bottom of the door, and then sat down on the doorstep. Presently a voice came through the keyhole, in a whisper. "That you, Stumpy?" it said. "Yas," replied my master. "All clear?" Stumpy looked up and down the street and then hurriedly whispered, "No." Instantly the voice within was silent, and Stumpy was to all appearance sleeping soundly and heavily, as if tired nature in him had fairly reached its last strait. The distant footsteps came nearer; and still he slept on, snoring gently and regularly. The policeman advanced leisurely, turning his lantern first on this doorway, then on that window; trying now a shutter-bar, then a lock. At last he stood opposite the doorstep where Stumpy lay. It was a critical moment. He turned his lamp full on the boy's sleeping face, he took hold of his arm and gently shook him, he tried the bolt of the door against which he leaned. The sleeper only grunted drowsily and settled down to still heavier slumber, and the policeman, evidently satisfied, walked on. "Is he gone?" asked the voice within, the moment the retreating footsteps showed this. "Yas, but he'll be back," whispered the boy. And so he was. Three times he paced the street, and every time found the boy in the same position, and wrapped in the same profound slumber. Then at last he strode slowly onward to the end of his beat, and his footsteps died gradually away. "Now?" inquired the voice. "Yas," replied Stumpy. Whereat the door half-opened, and Stumpy entered. It was a dirty, half-ruinous house, in which the rats had grown tame and the spiders fat. The stairs creaked dismally as Stumpy followed his entertainer up them, while the odours rising from every nook and cranny in the place were almost suffocating. The man led the way into a small room, foul and pestilential in its closeness. In it lay on the floor no less than nine or ten sleeping figures, mostly juveniles, huddled together, irrespective of decency, health, or comfort. Stumpy surveyed the scene composedly. "Got lodgers, then," he observed. "Yes, two on 'em--on'y penny ones, though." Just then a sound of moaning came from one corner of the room, which arrested Stumpy's attention. "Who's that?" he asked. "Old Sal; she's bad, and I reckon she won't last much longer the way she's a-going on. I shall pack her off to-day." Stumpy whistled softly; but it was evident, by the frequent glances he stole every now and then towards the corner where the sufferer lay, that he possessed a certain amount of interest in the woman described as "Old Sal." The man who appeared to be the proprietor of this one well-filled lodging-room was middle-aged, and had a hare-lip. He had an expression half careworn, and half villainous, of which he gave Stumpy the full benefit as he inquired. "What 'ave yer got?" "Got, pal?" replied Stumpy; "a ticker." "Hand it up," said the man, hurriedly. Stumpy produced me, and the man, taking me to the candle, examined me greedily and minutely. Then he said,-- "I shall get fifteen bob for him." "Come, now, none of your larks!" replied Stumpy, who had produced the pipe, and was endeavouring to rekindle its few remaining embers at the candle; "try ag'in." "Well, I don't see as he'll fetch seventeen-and-six, but I'll do it for _you_." "Try ag'in," coolly replied Stumpy. The man did try again, and named a sovereign, which my master also declined. In this manner he advanced to twenty-four shillings. "Won't do," said Stumpy. "Then you can take 'im off," said the man, with an oath; "he ain't worth the money." "Yas 'e is, an' a tanner more," put in Stumpy. The man uttered a few more oaths, and again examined me. Then he dropped me in his pocket, and slowly counted out the purchase-money from a drawer at his side. Stumpy watched the process eagerly, doubtless calculating with professional interest how the entire hoard of this thieves' broker could at some convenient opportunity be abstracted. However, for the present he made sure of the sum given him, and dropped the coins one by one into his tail pocket. "Now lay down," said the man, "and make yourself comfortable." I fancy Stumpy was a good deal more comfortable in his drain-pipe an hour or two ago than in this foul, choking lodging-room; however, he curled himself up on the floor near the dying woman, and did his share in exhausting the air of the apartment. I should offend all rules of good taste and decency if I described the loathsome room; I wish I could forget it, but that I shall never do. Suffice it to say daylight broke in at last on the squalid scene, and then one by one the sleepers rose and departed--all but Stumpy and she whose groaning had risen ceaselessly and hopelessly the livelong night. "Old Sal's very bad," said Stumpy to his host. "Yas, she'll have to clear out of here." "She's nigh dying, I reckon," said the boy. "Can't help that; she ain't paid a copper this three weeks, and I ain't a-going to have her lumbering up my place no longer." "Where's she a-going to?" asked Stumpy. "How do I know?--out of 'ere, anyways, and pretty soon, too. I can tell yer." "Pal," said the boy, after a long pause, "I charged yer a tanner too much for that there ticker; here you are, lay hold." And he tossed back the sixpence. The man understood quite well the meaning of the act, and Old Sal lay undisturbed all that day. Stumpy took his departure early. I have never seen him since; what has become of him I know not; where he is now I know still less. But to return to myself. I spent that entire day in the man's pocket, too ill to care what became of me, and too weak to notice much of what passed around me. I was conscious of others like Stumpy coming up the creaking stairs and offering their ill-gotten gains as he had done; and I was conscious towards evening, when the last rays of the setting sun were struggling feebly through the dingy window, of a groan in that dismal corner, deeper than all that had gone before. Then I knew Old Sal was dead. In an hour the body was laid in its rude coffin, and had made its last journey down those stairs: and that night another outcast slept in her corner. The night was like the one which had preceded it, foul and sickening. I was thankful that my illness had sufficiently deadened my senses to render me unable to hear and see all that went on during those hours. Morning came at length, and one by one the youthful lodgers took their departure. When the last had left, my possessor produced a bag, into which he thrust me, with a score or more of other articles acquired as I had been acquired; then, locking the door behind him, he descended the stairs and stepped out. Oh, the delight of that breath of fresh morning air! Even as it struggled in through the crevices and cracks of that old bag, it was like a breath of Paradise, after the vile, pestilential atmosphere of that room! As we went on, I had leisure to observe the company of which I formed one. What a motley crew we were! There were watches, snuff-boxes, and pencils, bracelets and brooches, handkerchiefs and gloves, studs, pins, and rings--all huddled together higgledy-piggledy. We none of us spoke to one another, nor inquired whither we were going; we were a sad, spiritless assembly, and to some of us it mattered little what became of us. Still I could not help wondering if the man in whose possession I and my fellow-prisoners found ourselves was Stumpy's "uncle," referred to by that miserable clay pipe. If he was, I felt I could not candidly congratulate that youth on his relative. What he could want with us all I could not imagine. If I had been the only watch, and if there hadn't been half a dozen scarf-pins, snuff-boxes, and pencils, it would not have been so extraordinary. It would have been easy enough to imagine the person of Stumpy's "aunt" decorated with one brooch, two bracelets, and three or four rings; but when instead of that modest allowance these articles were present by the half-dozen, it was hardly possible to believe that any one lady could accommodate so much splendour. How ever, I could only suppose the superfluous treasures were destined for Stumpy's cousins, masculine and feminine, and occupied the rest of the journey in the harmless amusement of wondering to whose lot I was likely to fall. The man walked some considerable distance, and strangely enough bent his steps in a direction not far removed from Saint Elizabeth's Hospital. Surely he was not going to restore me to Tom Drift! No; we passed the end of Grime Street. There were milkmen's carts rattling up and down; servants were scrubbing doorsteps; and a few sleepy-looking men, with their breakfasts in their hands, were scurrying off to work. It was all the same as usual; yet how interesting, all of a sudden, the dull street had become to me. It was here I had last seen poor Charlie, outraged and struck by the friend he strove to save, creeping slowly home; it was here Tom Drift still dwelt, daily sinking in folly and sin, with no friend now left to help him. Poor Tom Drift! How gladly would I have returned to him, even to be neglected and ill-used, if only I might have the opportunity once again of fulfilling that charge put upon me by my first master, and which yet ever rang in my ears,-- "Be good to Tom Drift." But it was not to be yet. The man walked rapidly on down a street parallel with Grime Street, at the farthest corner of which stood a small private house. Here he knocked. The occupant of the house evidently knew and expected him, for he at once admitted him, and led the way upstairs into a private parlour. Here the thieves' broker emptied the contents of his bag, laying the articles one by one on the table. The man of the house looked on in an unconcerned way while this was taking place, picking up now one, now another of the objects, and examining them superficially. When the bag was empty, and the whole of the ill-gotten booty displayed, he remarked, "Not so much this time, Bill." "No; trade's bad, sir," replied he who owned the bag. "Well, I'll send the most of 'em down to the country to-day," resumed the master of the house. "When shall I call, sir?" inquired Stumpy's friend. "Monday. But look here, Bill!" said the other, taking me up, "it's no use leaving this; I shall be able to manage the gold ones, but this is no good." I had long lost the pride which in former days would have made me resent such a remark, and patiently waited for the result. Stumpy's friend took me back. "Well," he said, "if you can't, you can't. I'll see to him myself. Well, good-day; and I'll call on Monday." And he turned to depart, with me in his hand. In a minute, however, he came back. "Would yer mind lending me some togs, sir, for a few minutes?" said he; "I don't want no questions asked at the pawnshop." And he certainly did not look, in his present get-up, as the likeliest sort of owner of a silver watch. The man of the house, however, lent him some clothes, in which he arrayed himself, and which so transformed him that any one would have taken him, not for the disreputable thieves' broker he was, but for the unfortunate decayed gentleman he professed to be. In this guise he had no difficulty in disposing of me at the nearest pawnbroker's shop, which happened to be at the corner of Grime Street. The pawnbroker asked no questions, and I am sure never suspected anything wrong. He advanced thirty shillings on me and the chain, gave the man his ticket, and put a corresponding one on me. Then Stumpy's friend departed, and my new master went back to his breakfast. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. HOW TOM DRIFT GETS LOWER STILL. Two years passed. They were, without exception, the dullest two years I, or, I venture to say, any watch made, ever spent. There I lay, run down, tarnished and neglected, on the pawnbroker's shelf, never moved, never used, never thought of. Week followed week, and month month, and still no claimant for me came. Other articles on the shelves beside me came and went, some remaining only a day, some a week, but I survived them all. Even my friend the chain took his departure, and left me without a soul to speak to. None of the hundreds of tickets handed in bore the magic number 2222, which would have released me from my ignoble custody, and, in time, I gave up expecting it, and settled down to the old-fogeydom of my position, and exacted all the homage due to the "father of the shop" from my restless companions. My place was at the end of a long shelf, next to the screen dividing the shop from the office, and my sole amusement during those two dreary years was peeping through a crack and watching my master's customers. They were of all sorts and all conditions, and many of them became familiar. There was the little girl, for instance, the top of whose bonnet just reached as high as the counter, who, regularly every Monday morning, staggered in under the weight of a bundle containing her father's Sunday clothes, and, as regularly every Saturday evening, returned to redeem them. It was evident her respectable parent did not attend many evening parties between those two days, for I never remember his sending for them except at the regular times. Then there was the wretched drunkard, who crept in stealthily, with now a child's coat, now a picture, now a teapot; and with the money thus raised walked straight across the road to the public-house. And there was his haggard, worn wife, who always came next day with the ticket, and indignantly took back her household goods. There was the young sailor's wife, too, with her baby in her arms, who came rarely at first, but afterwards more often, to pawn her few poor treasures, until at length a glad day came when the brawny tar himself, with his pockets full of cash, came with her and redeemed them every one. I could tell of scores of others if I wished, but I have my own life to record, and not the transactions of my master, the pawnbroker. One day, towards the end of the first year, the door opened softly and quickly, and there entered into the office a youth, haggard and reckless-looking, whom, I thought, surely I had seen before. I looked again. Was it possible? Yes! this was none other than Tom Drift! But oh, how changed! A year ago, erring and wayward as he had been, he was yet respectable; his dress was the dress of a gentleman; his bearing was that of a gentleman too; his face had been naturally intelligent and pleasant; and his voice clear and cheerful. But now! There was a wild, restless roll about his eyes, a bright flush on his hollow cheeks, a dulness about his mouth, a hoarseness in his voice, which seemed to belong to another being. He was dissipated and seedy in appearance, and hung his head, as though ashamed to meet a fellow-being's look, and, instead of one, looked at least ten years older than he had. Such a wreck will evil ways make of a youth! He looked eagerly round, to see that no one but he was in the office, and then produced from his pocket a scarf-pin. "What will you give me for this?" he whispered. The pawnbroker took it up and turned it over. It was a handsome pin, with a pearl in the front. "Ten shillings," said the pawnbroker. "What!" exclaimed Tom; "do you know what it's worth?" "Ten shillings is all I can give you," curtly replied the pawnbroker. Tom gulped down a groan. "Give me the money, then, for goodness' sake," he said. The pawnbroker coolly and deliberately made out the ticket, while Tom stood chafing impatiently. "Be quick, please!" he said, as though fearful of some one detecting him in a crime. "Don't you be in a hurry," said the pawnbroker. "Here's the ticket." "And the ten shillings?" broke in Tom. "You shall have it," said my master, going to his drawer. To Tom it seemed ages while the silver was being counted, and when he had got it he darted from the shop as swiftly as he had entered it. "That fellow's going wrong," muttered the pawnbroker to himself, as he laid the pin on the shelf beside me. I recognised it at once as having often been my companion on Tom's dressing-table at nights, but I myself was so discoloured and ill that it did not at first know me. I was too anxious, however, to hear some thing about Tom to allow myself to remain disguised. "Don't you know me, scarf-pin?" I asked. He looked hard at me. "Not a bit," he said. "I'm Tom Drift's old watch." "You don't say so! So you are! How ever did you come here? Did he pawn you?" "No; I was stolen from him one night at the music-hall, and pawned here by the thief." "Ah, that music-hall!" groaned the pin; "that place has ruined Tom Drift." "When I left him," I said, "he was just going to the bad as hard as he could. He had broken with his best friend, and seemed completely--" "Hold hard! what friend?" interposed the pin. "Charlie Newcome, my first master; they had a quarrel the day I was stolen." "That must be nearly two years ago?" said the pin. "Just," said I. "Do tell me what has happened since then." "It's a long story," said the pin. "Never mind, we've nothing else to do here," I said encouragingly. "Well," said the pin, "the night you were lost Tom never turned up at home at all." "He was utterly drunk," I said, by way of explanation. "Don't you interrupt," said the pin, "or I won't tell you anything." I was silenced. "Tom never turned up at all until the next morning; and he sat all that day in his chair, and did nothing but look at the wall in front of him." "Poor fellow!" I could not help saying. "There you go!" said the pin; "be good enough to remember what I said, and if you can't endure to hear of anybody sitting and looking at a wail, it's no use my going on with my story." "I only meant that I could imagine how miserable he was that day," said I; "but go on, please." "Two or three days after, Charlie Newcome called. Tom was alone, but he refused to see him. He cursed to himself when he heard the name. Charlie went back disappointed, but Tom made a great boast to his `friends' that same night of his `cold shoulder to the prig,' as he called it, and they highly applauded him for his sense. "Again, a week later, Charlie called once more, but with the same result. He wrote letters, but Tom put them in the fire unread; he sent books, but they were all flung into a corner. In a thousand different ways he contrived to show Tom that, though ill-used and in suited, he was still his friend, and ready to serve him whenever opportunity should offer. "All this while Tom was sinking lower and lower in self-respect. He was contracting a habit of drinking, and in a month or two after you had left he rarely came home sober." "And what about his bad friends?" asked I. "There you are! why can't you let me tell my story in peace? His bad friends visited him daily at first, made a lot of him, and praised him loudly for his resolution in dismissing Charlie, and for his `growing a man at last.' They lent him money, they lost to him at cards and billiards, and they made his downward path as easy for him as possible. "At last, about six months ago, Tom was found tipsy in the dissecting- room at the hospital, and cautioned by the Board. A fortnight later he was found in a similar state in one of the wards, and then he was summarily expelled from the place, and his name was struck off the roll of students." "Has it come to that?" I groaned. "Come to that? Of course it has; I shouldn't have said so if it hadn't," replied the testy pin, who seemed unable to brook the slightest interruption. "He took a fit of blues after that; he went to the Board, and begged to be allowed to return to his studies, representing that all his prospects in life depended on his finishing his course there. They gave him one more chance. In his gratitude he resolved to discard his companions, and actually sat down and wrote a letter to Charlie, begging him to come and see him." "Did he really?" I exclaimed, trembling with eagerness. "All right, I shall not tell you of it again. Stop me once more, and you'll have to find the rest of my story out for yourself." "I'm very sorry," said I. "So you ought to be. When it came to the time, however, Tom's resolutions failed him. Gus and his friends called as usual that evening and laughed him to scorn. He dare not quarrel with them, dare not resist them. He crumpled up the letter in his pocket and never posted it, and that night returned to his evil ways without a struggle. "For a week or two, however, he kept up appearances at the hospital; but it could not last. A misdemeanour more serious than the former one caused his second expulsion, and this time with an intimation that under no circumstances would he be readmitted. That was three months ago. He became desperate, and at the same time the behaviour of Gus altered. Instead of flattering and humouring him, he became imperious and spiteful. And still further, he demanded to be repaid the money he had advanced to Tom. Tom paid what little he could, and borrowed the rest from Mortimer. He got behindhand with his rent, and his landlady has given him notice. As usual, everybody to whom he owes money has found out his altered circumstances, and is down on him. The keeper of the music-hall, the tailor, the cigar merchant, are among the most urgent." "And your being here is a result of all this, I see," said I, knowing the story was at an end, and considering my tongue to be released. "Find out!" angrily retorted the pin, relapsing into ill-tempered silence. I had little enough inclination to revert to the sad topic, and for the rest of that day gave myself up to sorrow and pity for Tom Drift. One thing I felt pretty sure of--it would not be long before he came again; and I was right. In two days he entered the office, wild and haggard as before, but with less care to conceal his visit. This time he laid on the counter the famous lance-wood fishing-rod which Charlie had given him months ago, and which surely ought to have been a reminder to him of better times. He flung it down, and taking the few shillings the pawnbroker advanced on it, hurried from the shop. The next time he came some one else was in the shop. A passing flush came over Tom's face on discovering a witness to his humiliation; but he transacted his business with an assumed swagger which ill accorded with his inward misery. For even yet Tom Drift had this much of hope left in him--that he knew he was fallen, and was miserable at the thought. His self-respect and sensitiveness had been growing less day by day, and he himself growing proportionately hardened; but still he knew what remorse was, and by the very agony of his shame was still held out of the lowest of all depths--the depths of ruthless sin. The stranger in the shop eyed him keenly, and when he had gone said to the pawnbroker, "He's a nice article, he is!" "Not much good, I'm thinking," observed the pawnbroker, dryly. "So you may say; I know the beauty. He banged me on the 'ed with a chair once, when he was screwed. Never mind, I know of two or three as is after him." And so saying, the disreputable man departed. After that Tom came daily. Now it was an article of clothing, now some books, now some furniture, that he brought. It was soon evident that not only was he miserable and destitute, but ill too; and when presently for a fortnight he never passed the now well-known door, I knew that the fever had laid him low. Poor Tom Drift! I wondered who was there now to nurse him in his weakness and comfort him in his wretchedness. He must be untended and unheeded. Well I knew his "friends" (oh, sad perversion of the sacred title!) would keep their distance, or return only in time to quench the first sparks of repentance. If only Charlie could have seen him at this time, with his spirit cowed and his weary heart beating about in vain for peace and hope, how would he not have flown to his bedside, and from those ruins have striven to help him to rise again to purity and honesty. But no Charlie was there. Since the last appealing letter so scornfully rejected, Tom had heard not a word of him or from him. What wonder indeed if after so many disappointments and insults, the boy should at length leave his old schoolfellow to his fate? With returning health there came to Tom no returning resolutions or efforts. The friends who had deserted his sick-bed were ready, as soon as ever he rose from it, with their temptations and baneful influence. One of his first visits after his recovery was to my master with a pair of boots. He looked so pale and feeble that the pawnbroker inquired after his health--a most unusual departure from business on the part of that merchant. "Hope you're feeling better," he said. "Yes; so much the better for you," replied Tom with a ghastly smile. "What can you give me for these, they are nearly new?" "Five shillings?" "Oh, anything you like; I've to pay two pounds to-morrow. What you give me is all I shall have to do it with--I don't care!" The pawnbroker counted out the five shillings, and handed them across the counter. "Good-bye!" said Tom, with another attempt at a smile; "I shall have to change my address to-morrow." And with that he turned on his heel. I watched him through the window as he left the shop. He walked straight across the road and went in at the public-house opposite. And that glimpse was the last sight I had of Tom Drift for many, many months. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. HOW I WAS KNOCKED DOWN BY AN AUCTIONEER, AND PICKED UP BY A COUNTRYMAN. One day, about two years after my arrival at the pawnbroker's shop, an unusual circumstance happened to break the monotony of my unruffled existence. This was nothing more nor less than a Clearance Sale. I must tell you how it happened. For a week, every night, I saw my master poring over a big account-book in his parlour, comparing the entries in it with those of his pawn- tickets, and marking off on one list what articles had been pawned and redeemed, and on another what had been pawned and still remained unredeemed. So lengthy and complicated a process was this that it consumed the entire week. The next week further indications of a coming change manifested themselves. A printer came to the office with a bill for approval, worded as follows:-- "Great Clearance Sale! The entire valuable and miscellaneous unredeemed stock of a pawnbroker will be sold by auction at the Central Mart, on Monday next, by Mr Hammer. Sale to commence at twelve o'clock precisely. Catalogues will be ready on Saturday, and may be had on application." Thus I, and one or two of my neighbours on the shelf, read as we peeped through the crack at the printer's proof-sheet. "`Entire valuable and miscellaneous unredeemed stock!' that's a good bit of writing," observed a pair of silver sugar-tongs near me; "that means you and me and the rest, Ticker. Who'd have thought of us getting such a grand name!" "Well, it strikes me we, at least I, have been lying here idle long enough," said I; "it's two years since I came here." "Bless you, that's no time," said the tongs. "I knew a salt-spoon lay once ten years before he was put up--but then, you know, we silver things are worth our money any time." "Yes," said I, "we are." The tongs laughed. "You don't suppose I meant you when I talked of silver things, do you?" "Of course I am a silver watch." "You're a bigger muff than I took you for," replied the aristocratic tongs, turning his hall-mark towards me. It was humiliating. Of course I ought to have known I was not solid silver, and had no claim to class myself of the same metal as a genuine silver pair of tongs. It was but one of many painful lessons I have had during my life not to give myself airs beyond my station. These solid silver goods certainly constituted the "upper ten thousand" of our valuable and miscellaneous community. When the time came for cataloguing us all, they separated themselves from the rest of us, and formed a distinct society, having their several names recorded in full at the head of the list. What a scene it was the day the catalogue came to our department! I suffered a further humiliation then by being almost entirely overlooked. A great tray of silver watches lay on the bench, brought together from all parts of the shop; and, to my horror, I found I was not among them. "That's the lot," said the pawnbroker. "Very good," said the auctioneer, who was making the catalogue; "shall we take leather bags next?" "As you please," said my master. "Hold hard," said the auctioneer, hastily counting the watches on the tray and comparing the number with a list he held in his hand, "there's one short." "Is there? I don't know how that can be." "You've got twenty-two down here and there's only twenty-one on the tray." The pawnbroker looked puzzled. "Better call over the number," said the auctioneer. So my master called out the number attached to each watch, and the auctioneer ticked it off on his list. When the last had been called, he said,-- "Where's Number 2222?" "Ah, to be sure, that's the one," said the pawnbroker, reaching up to where I lay, and taking me down; "this one. I'd forgotten all about him." Flattering, certainly! and still more so when the auctioneer, surveying my tarnished and dingy appearance, said, "Well, he's not much of a show after all. You'd better rub him up a bit, or we shan't get him off hand at all." "Very good," said the pawnbroker, and I was handed over forthwith to an assistant to be cleaned. And much I needed it. My skin was nearly as black as a negro's, and my joints and muscles were perfectly clogged with dust. I had a regular watch's Turkish bath. I was scrubbed and powdered, my works were taken out and cleaned, my joints were oiled, my face was washed, and my hands were polished. Altogether I was overhauled, and when I took my place on the tray with my twenty-one companions I was altogether a new being, and by no means the least presentable of the company. How we quarrelled and wrangled, and shouldered one another on that tray! There was such a Babel of voices (for each of us had been set going) that scarcely any one could hear himself speak. Nothing but recriminations and vituperations rose on every hand. "Get out of the way, ugly lever," snarled one monstrous hunter watch near me, big enough for an ordinary clock. "Who do you suppose wants you? Get out of the way, do you hear?" "Where to?" I inquired, not altogether liking to be so summarily ordered about, and yet finding the excitement of a little quarrel pleasant after two years' monotony. "Anywhere, as long as you get out of my way. Do you know I'm a hundred years old?" "Are you, though?" said I. "People must have had bigger pockets in those days than they have now!" This I considered a very fair retort for his arrogance, and left him snorting and croaking to himself, and bullying some other little watches, whom, I suppose, he imagined would be more deferential to his grey hairs than I was. I was not destined, however, to be left in peace. "Who are you?" I heard a sharp voice say. Looking round, I saw a creature with a great eye in the middle of his face, and a long, lanky hand spinning round and round over his visage. "Who are _you_, rather?" I replied. It was evidently what he wanted, for he began at once: "I'm all the latest improvements--compensation balance and jewelled in four holes; perfect for time, beauty, and workmanship; sound, strong, and accurate; with keyless action, and large full-dial second hand; air-tight, damp- tight, and dust-tight; seven guineas net and five per cent, to teetotalers. There, what do you think of that?" "I think," said I, with a laugh, in which a good many others joined, "that if you're so tight as all that teetotalers had better do without you." It will be observed the scenes and company I had been in of late years had tended to improve neither my temper nor my manners. In this way we spent most of the day before the auction, and it was quite a relief early next morning to find ourselves being removed to the "Central Mart." It was impossible, however, to resist the temptation of another quarrel in our tray while we were waiting for the sale to begin. The culprit in this instance was a certain Queen Anne's shilling attached to the chain of an insignificant-looking watch. "What business has that ugly bit of tin here?" asked a burly hunter. "Who calls me an ugly bit of tin?" squeaked out the coin. "I do; there!" said the hunter; "now what have you got to say?" "Only that you're a falsehood. Why, you miserable, machine-made, wheezing, old make-believe of a turnip--" "Draw it mild, young fellow," said the hunter. "Do you know that I was current coin of the realm before the tin mine that supplied your carcass was so much as discovered? I'm a Queen Anne's shilling!" "Are you, though? And what good are you now, my ancient Bob?" The shilling grew, so to speak, black in the face. "I won't be called a Bob! I'm not a Bob! Who dares call me a Bob?" "I do, Bob; there, Bob. What do you think of that, Bob? What's the use of you, Bob, eh? Can _you_ tell the time, Bob, eh, Bob, Bob, Bob?" And we all took up the cry, and from that moment until the time of our sale every sound, for us, was drowned in a ceaseless cry of "Bob!" in the midst of which the unlucky Queen Anne's shilling crawled under his watch, and devoutly wished he were as undoubtedly dead as the illustrious royal lady whose image and superscription he had the misfortune to bear. In due time the sale began. Among the earliest lots I recognised my acquaintance the solid silver sugar-tongs, which went for very nearly his full value, thus confirming me in my belief that, after all, there's nothing like the genuine thing all the world over. After the disposal of the silver goods--for which comparatively few people bid, and that with little or no competition--the real excitement of the auction began. "I have here, ladies and gentlemen," said the auctioneer, "a remarkably fine and superior lot of silver watches, all of which have been carefully cleaned and kept in order, and which, I can safely say, are equal to, if not better than, new. In many cases the watches are accompanied by chains of a very elegant and chaste description, which appendages considerably enhance their value. When I inform you that we value the contents of this tray, at the very lowest, at £90, being an average of £4 per watch, you will see I am not presenting to you any ordinary lot of goods. I will put up the watches singly in the order in which they are described in the catalogue." Some of the company looked as if they were not sure whether they ought not to say "Hear, hear!" after this very elegant and polished speech, but they restrained their admiration, and reserved their energies for the bidding. As I was last on the list I had full opportunity of noticing how my fellows fared, and was specially curious to see how the three or four watches whose acquaintance I had chanced to make went off. The common-looking watch with the unlucky "Bob" attached to its chain was knocked down for £3 5 shillings, which, on the whole, was a triumph to the mortified coin, for it is certain without him the lot would not have fetched nearly so much, and his triumph was further enhanced by the fact that the hunter with whom he had had his altercation fetched only £2 17 shillings 6 pence. However, there was no time for jeers and recriminations at present, we were all too deeply absorbed in watching the fate of our fellows and speculating on our own. The compensation balance, keyless, air-tight, seven-guinea grandee was the next to be put up, and the first bid for him was £1 10s. "That I should have lived to hear that!" I heard the poor creature gasp. "And if he's a teetotaler," I murmured, by way of encouragement, "that only means £1 8 shillings 6 pence!" "Scoffer! be silent and leave me to my misery," said the keyless one, in a solemn tone. The bidding improved considerably. He was run up to £2, £2 10 shillings, £3, £3 10 shillings, and finally to £4. "Nothing more for this very magnificent watch?" said the auctioneer; "I positively cannot let him go for a song." No answer. "I wish gentlemen would take the trouble to look at it," continued the persevering official; "they could not fail to see it was worth twice the money bid." Still no answer. "Did I understand you to bid four five, sir?" said the auctioneer to an innocent-looking stripling near the door. "Thank you." The stripling, however, disclaimed the soft impeachment, and looked very guilty as he did so. "Well, there seems no help for it. I wish I were down among you gentlemen. I'd take good care not to lose this chance." No answer. "Then I must knock it down. Going, going, gone, sir; it's yours, and dirt cheap, too." All this was encouraging for me. If a seven-guinea watch goes for four pounds, for how much will a three-guinea one go? This was a problem which I feebly endeavoured to solve as I lay waiting my turn. It came at last. I felt myself lifted on high, and heard my merits pronounced in the words of the catalogue. "Lot 68. London made, lever, open-face watch, capped and jewelled, in very fine order." "Look for yourselves, gentlemen." The gentlemen did look for themselves, and complimented me by a preliminary bid of 15 shillings. The auctioneer laughed a pleasant laugh, as much as to say, "That is a capital joke," and waited for the next bid. It was not long in coming, and I advanced rapidly by half-crowns to thirty shillings. Here I made sure I should stop, for this was the figure at which the pawnbroker himself had valued me. But no; such are the vagaries of an auction, I went on still, up to £2, and from that to £2 10 shillings. Surely there was some mistake. I looked out to see who they were who were thus bidding for me, and fancied I detected in that scrutiny the secret of my unexpected value. It was a countryman bidding--endeavouring in his downright way to become my possessor, and wholly unconscious of the array of Jews against him, who bid him up from half-crown to half-crown until I had nearly reached my original value. "Three pounds," at last said one of the Jews. The countryman had evidently come to the end of his tether, and did not answer the challenge. "Three pounds," said the auctioneer; "you're not going to stop, sir?" The countryman said nothing. "Try once more," said the auctioneer; but the rustic was silent. "Three pounds; no more? Going, going--" "Guineas!" roared the countryman, at the last moment. "Thank you, sir; I thought you were not going to be beaten. Three guineas, gentlemen; who says more? Nobody? Going, then, to you, sir; going, going, gone!" And so, once more, I changed masters. CHAPTER NINETEEN. HOW, AFTER MUCH CEREMONY, I FOUND MYSELF IN THE POCKET OF A GENIUS. Muggerbridge is a straggling, picturesque little midland village, with one principal street, an old church, a market-place, and a pound. Its population, all told, does not number a thousand, the majority of whom are engaged in agriculture; its houses are for the most part old- fashioned and poor, though clean; and altogether its general character and appearance combine to proclaim the village an unpretending English hamlet, with nothing whatever but its name to distinguish it from a hundred others like it. It was here I found myself duly installed in the window of the village jeweller's--held out as a bait to the purses of Muggerbridge. The countryman who had purchased me was a big enough man in his own place, though very little had been made of him in the "Central Mart." He was jeweller, silversmith, church warden, postmaster, and special Muggerbridge correspondent to the London _Thunderbolt_ all in one here, and appeared to be aware of his accumulated dignities! It was his custom twice a year to visit London for the purpose of replenishing his stock. It was the common talk of the place that he always returned from such expeditions with prodigies of bargains, which went far to encourage the popular tradition as to the prodigal wealth of the metropolis. People who knew him in town, on the other hand, always laughed at him, and were unkind enough to hint that he never by any chance bought an article at less than its full price, and often paid an extremely fanciful ransom for his purchases. The churchwarden and postmaster of Muggerbridge would have been very indignant had such an insinuation ever reached his ears. It never did, happily, and the worthy man was consequently always well satisfied with his purchases; which--whatever he gave for them--he always contrived to sell at a very respectable profit. It was with a view to this profit that I found myself looking out of Mr Argent's window, in the High Street of Muggerbridge, with a ticket round my neck, conveying the (to me) very gratifying information that "this superb watch was to be disposed of for the moderate amount of £4 10 shillings only," and a parenthesis below further indulged my vanity by volunteering the information that I was worth £6. It _did_ occur to me to wonder why, if I was worth £6, Mr Argent should be such a donkey as to sell me for only three-quarters of that sum. Either he was a very benevolent man, or he was in immediate want of £4 10 shillings, or he had his doubts as to my alleged value. I somehow fancied the last was the true reason, and was half afraid he was right too. Well, I looked out of Mr Argent's windows for two months, and by that time became acquainted with nearly all the inhabitants of Muggerbridge. On my first arrival I was an object of a good deal of curiosity and admiration, for any change in a country shop window is an excitement, and when that change takes the form of a £6 "superb" watch offered for £4 10 shillings, it was no wonder the honest Muggerbridgians gaped in at me and read my label. But in a very little time familiarity had bred contempt, and I lay almost unheeded by the outside world. The grocer opposite, with his triumphal arch of jam-pots monopolised all the wonder, and most of the admiration, and I had the mortification of seeing passers turn their backs on me, and step over the way to contemplate that vulgar structure. I had, however, one or two constant admirers. One of these was a youth, scarcely more than a boy, with a very pale, thoughtful face. He was poorly dressed, but respectable. A book was generally tucked under his arm, and very often I could see his lips moving, as if repeating something to himself. He paid me more attention than anybody. Every time he passed the shop he halted and looked at me, as I thought, wistfully, and usually appeared relieved to find me still in my place. "George Reader's took a fancy to the new watch, I can see," I heard Mr Argent say one day to his wife. He spoke, let me observe, in a very broad country dialect, which I do not feel equal to reproducing here. "Poor lad!" said Mrs Argent; "I dare say he'd like to have it in his pocket when he goes to college." "He is going, then?" "Yes, for certain; the clergyman says it would be a sin for a boy of his cleverness not to go, and so I think." "Well, learning's a great thing; and when a gamekeeper's son does take a fit of it, I suppose it's all right to humour it. But you and I, wife, can get on very well without it." "Speak for yourself," retorted Mrs Argent; "I wish you had half as much in your head as that boy has got, that's all!" "And I suppose you wish you'd got the other half, eh? Stuff!" And after this little tiff the worthy couple were silent for a while. Presently Mrs Argent again spoke. "I wonder what they'll do about the church organ when George's gone?" "Ah! you may say so," said the husband, with a touch of importance in his voice which became a churchwarden when speaking of church matters; "it'll be hard to fill his place there." "So it will. Did you stay after the service on Sunday?" "No; you know I had to go round to the curate's. Why?" "Just because if you'd heard him play you'd have been glued to your chair, as I was. It was beautiful. I couldn't have got up from that chair if I'd tried." "Good job you didn't try, if you were glued down, especially in your Sunday gown. I shouldn't care to have to buy many of them a month." "Now, John, you know I've not had a new gown for nearly a year." And then the talk took a departure over a range of topics to which I need not drag my unoffending reader. This short conversation sufficed to satisfy my curiosity in part as to the boy who was paying me such constant attention; and another event which shortly happened served to bring me into still closer acquaintance with George Reader. One day there entered the shop a party consisting of half a dozen persons. One of them was a young man in the dress of a clergyman, and the others I knew well by sight as respectable and respected villagers. "Good-morning, Mr Argent," said the curate, for the clerical gentleman was none other; "we've come to see you on a little matter of business." "Hope there's nothing wrong with the heating stoves in the church, sir," said Mr Argent, with an anxious face, "I was always against them being used at all." "The stoves are quite well, I believe," said the curate, smiling; "our business is of quite a different kind. We've come to make a purchase, in fact." Mr Argent's face brightened considerably, partly at the assurance as to the salubrity of the gas-stoves and partly at the prospect of business. "What can I do for you, sir?" he said, no longer with his churchwarden's voice, but as the Muggerbridge silversmith. "Well, we have been asked to select a small present to be given by the choir and congregation of our church to George Reader, who, I suppose you know, is going next week to college." "I have heard tell of it, sir," said Mr Argent, "and my wife and I were only wondering the other day what was to become of the music at the church when he's gone." "We don't like to think of it," said one of the party. "It would want a good one to take his place," said another. "We shall all miss him," said the curate; "and we are anxious before he leaves us to present him with some little token of our regard. We have kept the thing from you, Mr Argent, as of course we should have to come to you to procure whatever we decided on getting, so your contribution to the gift will have to be some good advice on the matter we are still undecided about--what to get." "I shall be very glad to help--have you decided--er--I mean--has anything been said--that is--about what--" "About how much? Well, we have nearly four pounds--in fact, we might call it four. What have you about that price that would be suitable?" Oh! how my heart fluttered, for I could guess by this time what was coming. Mr Argent looked profound for a minute, and then said, "There's one thing, I think, would do." "What?" asked the deputation. He pulled me out of the window and laid me on the counter. "A watch! Dear me! we thought of all sorts of things, but not once of that!" "It would be a suitable present," said one of the party; "but this one is £4 10." "That needn't matter," said Mr Argent; "if you like it my wife and I will settle about the difference." "That's very kind of you, Mr Argent. Does any one know if George has a watch?" "I know he hasn't," said one of the party. "And what's more, I've heard him say he wishes he had one." "And I can answer for it he's been looking in at my window at this very one every day for the last month," said the silversmith. "Well, what do you say to getting this, then? We needn't ask you if it's a good one, Mr Argent." "No, you needn't, sir," replied the smiling Mr Argent, who, as I had remained run down since the day he bought me, could not well have answered the question more definitely. "You'll clean it up, will you, and set it going, and send it to me this afternoon?" said the curate;--"and perhaps you would like to come with us to Reader's cottage this evening, when we are going to present it?" Mr Argent promised to form one of the party, and the deputation then left. I was swiftly subjected to all the cleaning and polishing which brushes, wash-leather, and whiting could give me. I was wound up and set to the right time, and a neat piece of black watered ribbon was attached to my neck, and then I waited patiently till the time came for my presentation to my new master. The gamekeeper's cottage to which I was conducted in state that evening was not an imposing habitation. It boasted of only three rooms, and just as many occupants. George, the hero of the occasion, was the son of its humble owner and his wife, and, as will have been gathered, had turned out a prodigy. From his earliest days he had displayed a remarkable aptitude for study. Having once learned to read at the village school, he became insatiable after books, and devoured all that came within his reach. Happily he fell into the hands of a wise and able guide, the clergyman of the parish, who, early recognising the cleverness of the boy, strove to turn his thirst for learning into profitable channels, lent him books, explained to him what he failed to understand, incited him to thoroughness, and generally constituted himself his kind and helpful adviser. The consequence of this timely tuition had been that George had grown up, not a boisterous, over bearing prig, showing off his learning at every available chance, and making himself detestable, and everybody else miserable, by his conceited air, but a modest, quiet scholar, with plenty of hidden fire and ambition, and not presuming on his talents to scorn his humble origin, or be ashamed of his home and parents--on the contrary, connecting them with all his dearest hopes of success and advancement in the world. They, good souls, were quite bewildered by the sudden blaze of their son's celebrity. They hardly seemed to understand what it all meant, but had a vague sort of idea that they were implicated in "Garge's" achievements. They would sit and listen to him as he read to them, as if they were at an exhibition at which they had paid for admission, and it is not too much to say "Garge" was, in their eyes, almost as dreadful a personage as the lord of the manor himself. Among his fellow-villagers George was, as the reader will have gathered, somewhat of a hero, and not a little of a favourite. This distinction he owed to a talent for music, which had at a very early age displayed itself, and had been heartily encouraged by the rector. In this pursuit, which he followed as his only recreation, he had made such progress that, while yet a boy, he became voluntary organist at the church, and as such had won the hearts of the neighbours. They didn't know much about music, but they knew the organ sounded beautiful on Sundays, and that "Garge" played it. And so it was a real trouble to them now that he was about to leave Muggerbridge. You may imagine the state of excitement into which this unexpected visit threw simple Mr and Mrs Reader. The good lady was too much taken aback even to offer her customary welcome, and as for the gamekeeper, he sat stock still in his chair, with his eyes on his son, like a hound that waits the signal for action. "We are rather an invasion, I'm afraid," said the curate, squeezing himself into the little kitchen between a clothes-horse and a dresser. "Not at all," said George, looking very bewildered. "Perhaps you'll wonder why we've come?" added the curate, turning to the gamekeeper. "Maybe you've missed something, and thinks one of us has got it," was the cheerful suggestion. The curate laughed, and the deputation laughed, and George laughed, and George's mother laughed, which made things much easier for all parties. "No, we haven't missed anything, Mr Reader," replied the curate, "but we expect to miss _somebody_--George, and that is the reason of our visit." And then the curate explained what the business was, and one of the churchwardens made a speech (the composition of which had kept him awake all the previous night), and then I was produced and handed over. And George blushed and stammered out something which nobody could understand, and George's mother began to cry, and George's father, unable otherwise to express his sense of the occasion, began to whistle. And so the little business was satisfactorily concluded, and the deputation withdrew, leaving me in the pocket of a new master. Three days afterwards both of us took our departure for Cambridge. CHAPTER TWENTY. HOW MY NEW MASTER MADE TRIAL OF A PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES. But now let us follow Reader. My master's rooms at Saint George's College were of the poorest and meanest description; in fact it would not be too much to describe them--the bedroom and study--as being like a pair of big cupboards under a great staircase. They looked out on nothing more picturesque than a blank wall. They were carpeted with nothing better than an old drugget; and as for paper, the place would have looked better simply whitewashed. They were suffocating in summer and draughty in winter, and at nights afforded rendezvous to a whole colony of rats. Every step on the staircase above thundered down into the study; the loosely-hung windows rattled even in a light breeze, and the flavours of the college dustbins, hard by, appeared to have selected these chambers, above all others, for their favourite haunt. I am told Saint George's College has recently undergone renovation. It so, it is probable "the Mouse-trap"--for this was the designation by which George Reader's classical domain was familiarly styled--has disappeared. Let us hope so, for a more miserable, uncomfortable, and uninviting couple of rooms I never saw. But they had one merit, and that a great one: they were cheap, which to George Reader meant everything. He had gained a small entrance scholarship, by the help of which he hoped, with the most rigid economy, to support himself during his college career. Most other young fellows would have shrunk from the prospect, but such was my master's ambition that I believe he would have endured life in a stable if only he could have there enjoyed the advantages and encouragements of a college course. It was, at any rate, a fine sight to see him settle down in his new dispiriting quarters, determined to make the best of everything, and suffer nothing to damp his ardour for work. He unpacked his few precious books and laid them on the shelf; he hung up the likenesses of his father and mother over the chimney-piece; he produced the cheese which the latter had insisted on his bringing with him, and, as a crowning-effect, set me up on the mantel-shelf with as much pride as if I had been a marble clock. "That looks something like!" he said to himself. "Now for a little tea, and then--grind!" The little tea, however, was "sooner said than done." It involved a prolonged hunt for the "gyp," or attendant, and a still more prolonged conference on the subject of hot water, tea, and bread. The suggestions thrown out by the college official, too, were so very lordly and extravagant--such, for instance, as ham and eggs, chicken, marmalade, and chocolate--that poor George's heart fluttered as much as his mouth watered while he listened. Chicken and chocolate for a poor student who had barely enough money to afford so much as the luxury of living in the "Mouse-trap" of Saint George's! Well he might be scared at the idea! He politely declined the grand offer of his scout, and asking him to light a small fire and procure him a loaf, sallied out himself into the town and purchased a small and very cheap quantity of groceries. With these he returned in triumph to his rooms, and, with the utmost satisfaction, partook of his first college meal, with a Euclid open on the table beside him. Then pouring out a final cup of tea to enjoy, cold, later on, he "cleared the decks for action," as he called it, which meant putting away the tea, butter, sugar, and bread in a cupboard, and folding up the table cloth. Poor George! he had no false pride to forbid such menial offices; he had not the brag about him which would have led another to stand on the staircase and howl "Gyp" till every one far and near should be made aware that he had had a meal which required clearing away. No; he was only a gamekeeper's son, in a hurry to get at his books; and to him it was far more natural to wait on his own frugal table than sit in state till a servant should come and clear it. "Now," said he to himself, "I shall get a good quiet time for work. After all it's not bad to be one's own master where reading is concerned." And without more ado he set himself down to his books, with me on the table at his elbow, and his cup of tea within reach, when such refreshment should be desirable. It was a fine thing to see this young fellow plunging straight into his work. Assuredly he had not come to college to fritter away his time--to row, play cricket, give wine-parties, or drive dog-carts; he had not even come because it was "the thing," or afforded a "good introduction into the world." No, he was here for one purpose, and one alone. That was work. To him the days were as precious mines, and every minute a nugget. It mattered nothing to him who won the cricket-match this year, who occupied the rooms next his, how many bumps the Saint George's boat made on the river; far more important was the thought that perhaps the oil in his lamp would run short before the night was out, or whether the edition of Plato his friend the Muggerbridge clergyman had given him was the best, and contained the fullest notes. In short, George Reader was in earnest. But, like the tea, the "good quiet time" he hoped for was not so easy to secure. Scarcely had he settled down when the voices of two men in loud conversation rose, immediately under his window. Now, when one is in the agony of trying to understand how it comes that a certain number of angles in one figure are equal to a certain number of angles in another, it is, to say the least of it, confusing to have to listen to a spirited account of a boxing-match between Jack Straight and the Hon. Wilfred Dodge; and when that account manages to get interwoven inextricably with the problem in hand the effect is likely to be distracting; for instance:-- "Since the solid angle at B is contained by three plane angles, BAF, FAC, and CAB, then--" "Jack let out and got in sweetly under his man's guard," and so on. "Therefore," persevered George, "the angles ABC and ABF--" "Rounded on him grandly, and--" "The angles ABC and ABF are together greater than the angle CBF; and, similarly--" Here the conversation was continued in language far more worthy of the disgraceful prize-ring than a college, until George could bear it no longer. He leapt from his seat and sprang to the window, which he opened. Leaning out, he surveyed the two disturbers of his peace with very little affection, but controlled himself sufficiently to say politely,-- "Would you mind not talking just here? I'm reading." One of the two scowled up at him, and replied,-- "What business is it of yours where we talk?" "Come on, Fisher," said the other, taking his arm; "let the man read if he wants; I suppose that's the poor beggar who's come to the `trap.'" "He's got a cool cheek of his own, whoever he is," retorted the indignant Fisher. George was too relieved to be rid of their clatter under his window to trouble himself as to their sentiments towards himself, and he therefore once again settled down to work. But now a new interruption occurred. There arose a sudden rush of feet outside his door, a laughing and a cheering, in the midst of which he caught the following confused utterances: "George's has bumped Corpus!" cried a voice. [See Note 1.] "Hurrah!" yelled half a dozen voices. "It was the finest bit of rowing ever you saw," continued the first speaker. "Bailey put it on from the very first stroke, and was on the top of them before the Point." And then the three cheers and yells rose again. "You can fancy how black and blue Corpus looked--it's the biggest sell they've had for a long time." Once more the shouts. "And what do you think?" resumed the first speaker. "Old Bailey vows he won't come to the supper to-night. Did ever you hear of such an old bear?" "He'll have to come," cried the rest; "let's waylay him here and carry him off." "All serene," said the leader; "he's sure to come here--let's hang about on the stairs." Oh, horrors! here were six noisy men going to establish themselves on the stairs over poor George's head, and remain there until their victim arrived, when, unless college traditions were utterly false, there would certainly be a battle royal. It was impossible, with the cheering and stamping and shouting and laughing, and scuffling overhead, to do a stroke of work, and yet George did his best. He pulled his table into the corner of the room farthest away from the noise, and, burying his head in his hands, struggled desperately to abstract himself from the disturbance. But as sure as he succeeded for a minute, a clamour louder than ever would drive _every_ idea out of his head. It was vain to attempt expostulation--what would these jubilant revellers care for a poor new man like him!--and he had nowhere else to go to escape them there was nothing for it but to be patient. In due time the victorious and unsuspecting Bailey, accompanied by four of his friends, appeared on the scene, and their approach was the immediate signal for action. With a cheer and a howl the ambush sprang upon their victims; and, with equal vehemence, these, having rapidly taken in the state of affairs, prepared to defend themselves. Poor George might as well have been sitting under Niagara. Step by step, the new-comers strove to force a passage up to Bailey's rooms, and step by step the opposing force strove to repulse them. The balustrades creaked, the ceiling of George's room quaked, and the walls thundered with the weight of conflicting bodies. The occupants of every room on the staircase turned out to see the fun, and on hearing of Bailey's contumacy, joined with his persecutors in refusing him the shelter of his own sanctuary. Bailey's party, on the other hand, was joined by reinforcements from without, who stormed up the stairs with the noise of an earthquake. The opposing forces soon became so great that the press of battle raged even to the door of George's study, which creaked and rattled as if every moment it were about to yield and admit the whole tide of conflict. For half an hour the tumult roared and the battle swayed, and neither party gained nor yielded a foot. Then suddenly from the confines of the battle rose and spread a cry of "Cave canem!" on which, as if by magic, the action was suspended, and retreating footsteps betokened a panic. A rally was sounded by Bailey's foes, but too late; the hero of the day had taken advantage of the momentary pause to dash past his persecutors and gain his study, and once there no force could dislodge him. The vanquished ones stormed and raged outside his door for another ten minutes, threatening all sorts of vengeance; then with three mighty cheers they struck camp and retired, leaving the staircase in peace. Thus ended the famous battle of Bailey's Staircase, at the end of which George, with sunken spirits but indomitable resolution, sat down again to work. For half an hour he made good progress, without let or hindrance, when-- ah, cruel fate!--a wretch calling himself a man, in a neighbouring apartment, began to practise on the ophicleide! At the first note George bounded from his seat as if he had been shot, and literally tore his hair. This was worse than all that had gone before. To one of his musical inspiration, the human voice divine in conversation was, endurable, and the roar of battle might even be tolerable, but to hear a creature attempt to play one of the "songs without words" on an instrument he knew as little of as the music he was parodying, was beyond all bearing! Then, if ever, did my wretched master dig his fingers into his ears, and writhe and shiver and groan at each discord produced by that inhuman performer. He retreated into the innermost recess of his bedroom; he even hid his unhappy head beneath the clothes, if haply he might escape the agony of this torture. But it was hopeless. The shrieks and groans of that brutal ophicleide would have penetrated the walls of the Tower of London. It lasted, I should not like to say how long; and when it was over, the recollection of its horrors was almost as bad as their endurance. When George set himself again to work, it was with nerves unstrung and unutterable forebodings, yet still unconquered. "At any rate," said he to himself, with a sigh, "there can't be anything worse than that--unless, indeed, he invites a friend like himself to practise duets with him!" Happily this climax was not reached, and for one evening the worst of George Reader's persecutions had been suffered--but not the last. By the time the last wail of the ophicleide had wriggled away into silence it was getting late, and the college was meditating retirement to rest. This operation was not got through, as may be imagined, without a good deal of clamour and a good deal of scuffling on the staircase, and a good deal of dialogue outside the window; but in due time silence reigned, and George congratulated himself that he had a quiet time at last before him. Unlucky boast! Not an hour had passed, the lights in the windows round the courtyard had vanished, the distant shouts had ceased, and the footsteps on the pavement without had died away, when George was startled by a sound that seemed like the boring of a hole under his fireplace. The noise grew, and other similar noises rose in different parts. What was it? Surely the gay students of Saint George's were not about to effect an amateur burglary on the friendless owner of the "Mouse-trap?" Nearer and nearer came the sounds, and George's heart beat loud. He closed his book and pushed his chair back from the table, ready to defend himself, on an emergency, to the bitter end. Then, under the hearth, there was a sound of scraping and grating, then a rushing noise, and then George saw--two enormous rats! Loud and long laughed my master to himself at the discovery. What cared _he_ for rats? He pulled his chair back to the table, and buried himself in his book for the next three hours, until his lamp began to burn low, and the letters on the pages grew blurred and dim, and the rats had scuffled back by the way they came, and my flagging hands pointed to four o'clock. Then George Reader, after kneeling in silent prayer, went to bed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. At the college races at Cambridge the boats start one behind the other at fixed distances, and any boat overtaking and "bumping" the one in front of it moves up a place nearer to the "Head of the River." CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. HOW MY MASTER FARED AT SAINT GEORGE'S COLLEGE AND MET AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE OF THE READER'S THERE. It is not my intention in these pages to give a full and particular account of George Reader's college life. It would neither be on the whole interesting, nor would it be found to have much bearing on my own career, which is the ostensible theme of the present veracious history. Stories of college life have furnished amusing material for many a book before now, to which the reader must turn, should his curiosity in that direction require to be satisfied. The life of a hard--a too hard- working student in his cell under the college staircase is neither amusing nor sensational, and it is quite enough to say that, after his first eventful evening, George Reader pursued his studies with unflagging ardour, though with greater precaution than ever. He soon discovered which hours of the day and night were most favourable for uninterrupted work. He made a point of taking his constitutional during the hour made hideous by the ill-starred aspirant on the ophicleide. He invested in a trap for the rats, which, with the aid of his mother's cheese, yielded him a nightly harvest of victims, and he arranged with Benson, the "gyp," not to interrupt him, preferring rather to wait on himself--nay, even to dust out his own room--than have to sacrifice precious time while the same offices were being performed by another, especially by such an overpowering and awe-inspiring person as Benson. So he set himself to work, attending lectures by day, reading every night into the small hours, spending scarcely anything, shrinking from all acquaintanceships, taking only a minimum of recreation, and living almost the life of a hermit, until I could see his cheeks grow pale, and his eyes dark round the rims, and feared for his health. He treated me uniformly well. Of course, as the gift of his fellow- villagers, he prized me highly, but by no means consigned me to the stately repose of a purely ornamental treasure. I lay nightly beside his elbow on the table, and counted for him the hours as they sped from night to morning. I lay beneath his pillow at night, and helped him to rise betimes. I insured his punctual attendance at lectures, and drove him home from his scanty walks in the fresh air more quickly than I myself would have cared to do if I could have helped it. In short, I found myself in the satisfactory position of one thoroughly useful in his sphere of life, and on the whole, though my first young master returned constantly to my thoughts, I contrived to be very happy in my new capacity. Two events, however, both of a pleasant nature, served to vary the monotony of George's second term at college. The first of these was a visit from his friend and patron, Dr Wilkins, the rector of Muggerbridge. George was sitting at his modest breakfast one morning, when his door suddenly opened, and the well-known and beloved face of his old tutor lit up the apartment. My master sprang to his feet, and with unaffected joy rushed forward to welcome his guest, before it had do much as occurred to him into what uninviting quarters he was receiving him. "How good of you to come, sir!" he cried. "I never expected such happiness." "You don't suppose I should go through Cambridge and never beat up your quarters, my boy! But, dear me, how ill you are looking!" "Am I? I don't feel ill." "Humph! you're overdoing it. But aren't you going to offer me some breakfast?" George coloured, and his spirits sank as his eyes fell on the scanty fare of which he himself had been partaking. "It's only bread-and-butter," he said. "And what better?" said Dr Wilkins, sitting down; "and I warrant the butter's good if it's your mother's making." "So it is," said George, beginning to recover his spirits. "And how did you leave them at home, sir?" "First-rate, my boy;--looking much better than you are. And so this is your den? Well, it's--" "Nothing very grand," put in George. "Exactly, nothing very grand; but I dare say you find it as good a place to read in as a drawing-room, eh? Now tell me all about yourself, my boy, while I drink this good tea of yours." And George, with light heart and beaming face, told his good friend of all his doings, his hardships, his difficulties, his triumphs, and his ambitions. And Dr Wilkins sat and listened with pride and thankfulness at heart, to find his young _protege_ the same earnest, unaffected boy he had parted with from Muggerbridge six months before. They talked for a long time that morning. The tutor and boy passed in review all the work hitherto accomplished and discussed the programme of future study. Many were the wholesome counsels the elder gave to the younger, and many were the new hopes and resolutions which filled the lad's heart as he opened all his soul to his good friend. "And now," said Dr Wilkins, "I want you to take me to see your college and chapel." George looked perplexed. Who was _he_ to conduct a Doctor of Divinity over his college. Such a hermit's life had he led that he hardly knew the ins and outs of the place himself, and there was not a single man in the college to whom he was not a stranger. "I'm afraid you've chosen a bad guide," faltered he. "I don't know any of the men, and very little of the place." "Oh, never mind that," said the doctor; "it will be all the more interesting to make a tour of discovery, so come along!" George put on his cap and gown and obeyed. For a moment he wished the gown had been long enough to conceal the patch on the knee of his trousers, but the next he laughed at himself for his vanity. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," thought he, "and if it _is_ patched--well, it is." And thus consoling himself, he accompanied the doctor across the quadrangle. Men certainly did stare at him as he passed, and some of them deemed him a queer "specimen," and others wondered what Saint George's was coming to. But my master, if he noticed their looks, disregarded them, and as for Dr Wilkins, he smiled to himself to think how prone mankind is to judge by appearances. "Unless I mistake," mused he to himself, "these young sparks of Saint George's will some day think fit to be proud of their poor fellow- collegian." The two made the tour of the college, and finished up with the grand old Gothic chapel. It was easy to guess why George's face lit up as he approached the place. The deep notes of an organ were sounding across the quadrangle, and as they entered the door a flood of harmony swept towards them down the long aisles. Dr Wilkins could feel the boy's arm tremble, and heard the sigh of delight which escaped his lips. Without a word they sat in the nearest stalls, and listened while the music went on. How it rose and fell, how it trembled in the oak arches of the roof, and swept through the choir down to where they sat! It was only an ordinary organist's practice; but to George, after his hard work, and with the memories of home revived by the presence of his dear tutor, it came as a breath from heaven. Daily, nearly, had he heard that organ since his coming to Cambridge, but never had it delighted him as it did now. "Can we see the organ?" he said, when the last chord had died away. "Let us try," said the doctor. The gallery door was open, and ascending the stairs to the organ loft, they found the organist preparing to depart. "We have been a clandestine audience," said the doctor, "and couldn't help coming to thank you for the treat you have given us. My young friend here is music mad." The organist smiled. "You took me at a disadvantage," he said, "I was only amusing myself." "Whatever you were doing for yourself, you delighted us," said the doctor. "Would you like to try the organ?" presently said the organist to George. Oh, what a bound of delight I could feel in my master's breast at the invitation. "May I?" he exclaimed. "Certainly, if you like--and if you can," added the other, hesitatingly, as if not sure whether the lad's skill would be equal to his enthusiasm. George sat down on the bench, and laid his fingers lovingly on the keys. But he withdrew them before he had sounded a note. "I would rather you did not watch me too closely," he said, nervously, "for I am only a beginner." "Let us go and sit down stairs," suggested the doctor. The organist looked still more doubtful than before, and began to repent his offer. However, he retired with the doctor, and made up his mind to be excruciated. They sat down in two of the stalls and waited. And then George began to play. What he played I cannot tell. It began first in a faint whisper of music which swelled onward into a pure choral melody. Then suddenly the grand old roof trembled with the clash of a martial movement, strong and steady, which carried the listener onward till he was, with the sound, lost in the far distance. Then, in wailing minor numbers the music returned, slowly working itself up into the tumult and fury of a pent-up agony, and finally sweeping all before it in a wild hurricane of bitterness. Then a pause, and then sweetly and in the far distance once more rose the quiet hymn, and after that all was silence. After the first few notes the organist had uttered a startled ejaculation, and drawn the doctor to another seat farther down the nave, where, till all was over, he sat motionless as a statue. But the moment the music had ceased he ran up the stairs with a face full of pleasure and admiration, and actually seized George by the hand. "You're a genius, sir. That was not at all bad, I can tell you." A happy smile was all the answer George could give. "Not at all bad," repeated the organist. "I was telling your friend," added he to Dr Wilkins, who had returned more slowly to the organ, "that was not at all bad. He must come here often." "Nothing, I am sure, would delight him more," said the doctor. "Eh, my boy?" "Nothing, indeed," said George, "but--" "But your reading, I suppose." "Never mind your reading, sir!" exclaimed the organist. "What's that to music? Take my advice, and go in for music." Poor George! for a moment he felt tempted to abandon all his ambitions and resolutions at the prospect of a career so delightful and congenial. But he was made of firmer stuff than Tom Drift, and replied,-- "I cannot do that, sir; but if I may come now and then--" "Come whenever you like," said the organist; and so saying he shook George and his friend by the hand, and hurried from the chapel. This was the event which of all others brightened George Reader's first year at college. Instead of aimless walks, he now stole at every spare moment (without cutting into his ordinary work) to the organ, and there revelled in music. His acquaintance with the college organist increased and developed into a friendship, of which mutual admiration formed a large element, and one happy Sunday, a year after his arrival at Cambridge, he received, for the first time, the much coveted permission to preside at the organ during a college service, a task of which he acquitted himself so well-- nay, so remarkably well--that not only did he frequently find himself again in the same position, but his playing came to be a matter of remark among the musical set of Saint George's. "Who is the fellow who played to-day?" a man inquired one day of the organist; "is he a pupil of yours?" "No. I might be a pupil of his in some things. He's a boy, and, mark my words, if he goes on as he's begun he'll be heard of some day." "What's his name, do you know?" inquired the youth. "I don't even know that, I never-- Here he comes!" "Introduce me, will you?" "With pleasure. Allow me to introduce Mr Halliday," said the organist to George. Halliday! Wasn't that a familiar name to me? Was it possible? This fine fellow, then, was no other than Jim Halliday, whom I had last seen as a boy on the steps of Randlebury, with his chum Charlie Newcome, waving farewell to Tom Drift. Ah, how my heart beat at being thus once more brought back into the light of those happy days by this unexpected meeting! My master by no means shared my delight at the incident. He had always shrunk from acquaintanceships among his fellow-collegians. With none, hitherto, but the organist had he become familiar, and that only by virtue of an irresistible common interest. His poverty and humble station forbade him to intrude his fellowship on the clannish gentry of Saint George's, and certainly his cravings for hard study led him, so far from considering the exclusion as a hardship, to look upon it as a mercy, and few things he desired more devoutly than that this satisfactory state of affairs might continue. I do not say George was right in this. Sociability is, to a certain extent, a duty, and one that ought not without the soundest reason to be shirked. George may have carried his reserve rather too far, but at any rate you will allow he erred on the right side, if he erred at all, and carried his purpose through with more honesty and success than poor Tom Drift had displayed in a very similar situation. Now, however, his hermitage was in peril of a siege, and he quailed as he acknowledged the introduction offered him. "How are you?" said Halliday, with all his own downrightness. "I and a lot of fellows have liked your playing, and I don't see why I shouldn't tell you so. How are you?" "I'm quite well, thank you," faltered George. "You're a freshman, I suppose?" asked Jim. "No, I'm in my second year." "Are you? I thought I knew all the men in the college; but perhaps you live in the town?" "No, I live in college." "Where are your rooms?" asked the astonished Jim. "In, or rather under, H staircase," replied George. "Perhaps you would know the place best as the `Mouse-trap.'" Jim could not resist a whistle of surprise and a rapid scrutiny of his new acquaintance. "The `Mouse-trap'! That's an awful hole, isn't it?" "Yes," said George, his candour coming to his rescue to deliver him from this cross-examination, "but it's cheap--" Jim looked as afflicted as if he had been seized with a sudden toothache. "What a blundering jackass I am! Please excuse my rudeness; I never meant to annoy you." "You have not done so. You are not the sort of man I should mind knowing I was poor--" "Of course not; so am I poor; but don't let's talk of that. Will you come to my rooms?" George hesitated, and then answered,-- "I'd rather not, please. I'm reading hard, and, besides--" "Besides what?" "I've no right to expect you to associate with me." "Why _ever_ not?" "I may as well tell you straight out. My father is a gamekeeper, and I am a gamekeeper's son." Jim laughed pleasantly. "Well, really your logic is perfect, but I can't say as much for your sense. Bless you, man, aren't we all of us lineal descendants of a gardener? Come along!" "Please excuse me," again faltered George; "you are very kind, but your friends may not thank you for--" "My friends!--oh, yes!" blurted out Jim. "What on earth business have they to put their noses into my affairs. Like their impudence, all of them!" Jim, you will see, was still a boy, though he had whiskers. "Don't blame them till they have offended. Anyhow, Mr Halliday, please excuse me. I want to read, and have made a rule never to go out." "Look here--what's your name?" began Jim. "Reader," replied my master. "Reader! Are you the fellow who's in for the Wigram Scholarship?" cried Jim, in astonishment. "Yes," replied George; "how did you know?" "Only that some of the fellows are backing you for winner." George laughed. "They'll be disappointed," he said. "I hope not," said Jim, "for if you get it you'll be free of the college, and get into rather better quarters than the `Mouse-trap.' But look here, Reader, do come to my rooms, there's a good fellow; if _you_ don't want any friends, don't prevent my having one." This was irresistible, and George had nothing for it but to yield, and with many misgivings to accompany his new friend. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. HOW MY MASTER AND I WENT OUT TO BREAKFAST, AND WHOM WE MET. Jim Halliday--now a strapping youth of nineteen--was a good representative of the "steady set" at Saint George's College. Indeed, as he was intending to become a clergyman in due time, it would have been a deplorable thing if this had not been the case. He worked hard, and though not a clever fellow, had already taken a good position in the examination lists of his college. He was also an ardent superintendent at a certain ragged-school in the town conducted by University men; and was further becoming a well-known figure in the debates at the Union--on all which accounts his friends were not a little satisfied. But on one point Jim and his friends did not hit it. Ever since his Randlebury days he had kept up his passion for athletic sports, and if he had now been famous for nothing else at his college, he would at least have been noted as a good bat, a famous boxer, a desperate man in a football scrimmage, and a splendid oar. It was on this subject that Jim and his relations were at variance. When I speak of "relations" I refer, by the way, to a certain old-fashioned uncle and aunt in Cornwall, who since Jim's father's death had assumed the guardianship of that youth and his brothers and sisters. This good uncle and aunt were horribly shocked that one destined for so solemn a sphere in life as the ministry should profane himself with athletic sports. The matter formed the theme for many serious remonstrances, and long letters addressed to the depraved Jim, who, on his part, maintained his side of the argument with characteristic vehemence. He actually spent a whole day in the college library, making out a list of all the athletic divines in history since the creation of the world, the which he hurled triumphantly at his good relations' heads as an unanswerable challenge. But, however satisfactory it may have been to Jim, it failed to convince them, and neither party being disposed to give in, the feud in this particular had become chronic. All this Jim contrived to impart to George (for lack of better conversation) in the course of a short walk previous to the breakfast in his rooms, to which he was leading his new acquaintance a captive. "I suppose we shall have it all opened again now," he remarked, "for you may have seen that my name is down to play in the football-match against Sandhurst." "I never read the athletic intelligence in the papers," said George. "Well, my uncle and aunt do. The names were actually printed in the _Times_, and I shall be greatly surprised if I don't find a letter or telegram when I get back to my rooms. We may as well beat to quarters, though, or the fellows will be waiting." "You didn't tell me anyone else was to be there," said George reproachfully, suddenly stopping short, "I can't come!" "Stuff and nonsense," said Jim; "they won't eat you!" "Halliday," said George, hurriedly, "I'm much obliged to you for asking me, but I have made a rule, as I tell you, never to go out, and I've told you the reason." "An utterly rubbishing reason!" put in Jim. "I promised to come with you because I thought there would be only us two; but I really can't come if there are more." "My dear fellow," said Jim good-humouredly, "anyone else would be offended with you. Why, you're a regular bear." "I know it's very rude of me," said George, feeling and looking very uncomfortable, "and I don't want to be that." "Of course you don't; so come along. Why, my dear fellow, one would think my friends were all as abandoned wretches as I am, by the manner in which you shrink from the notion of meeting them, but they aren't." "Do let me off," put in George, in despair. "Not a bit of it. But I tell you what, if you don't like them or me--" "It's not that, you know, but I've no right to associ--" "Associate with your grandmother! Come this once, and I'll never ask you again unless you like, there!" "Who are the fellows?" asked George. "Two of them are College men--very nice men, in my humble opinion; and, now I come to think of it, one of them, Clarke, is in against you for the `Wigram,' but everyone says you're safe; and the third is an old particular school chum, who is playing in Sandhurst team against us, and whom it is therefore my interest to incapacitate by a howling breakfast." George laughed. "I wish you'd let him eat my share as well." "I dare say he would be equal to the occasion. Newcome was always a good trencherman." At the name I bounded nearly out of my master's pocket. Newcome! an old school chum of Jim Halliday's. It must be my old master! And--yes--now I remembered, he had spoken in one of his letters to Tom Drift of going to Sandhurst Military College. It must be he. How I longed for my master to make up his mind and go to the breakfast! "But I wouldn't have you miss seeing him," said Jim, "for I'm no end proud of him; and when you've once seen him, you'll have seen the best fellow going. That is," added he, "present company of course excepted." "I'm sure he's a nice man." "Nice! Of course, and therefore fit company for you and me; so come along, old man. I never had such hard work inviting a man to breakfast in all my life." "I'm certain I'm ill-mannered," said George, "but I won't hold out any more. You will--" "Hurrah, that's settled, and here we are, too!" With that he led the way up a staircase, on the second floor of which he opened a door, and ushered George into his rooms. No one was there yet, and there was consequently time to look about. Jim's rooms were nothing very grand, but they were palatial compared with the "Mouse-trap." Cheerful and well-lighted, with a pleasant look-out into the old quadrangle, comfortably furnished, further enlivened with all those adornments in the shape of swords, fencing-sticks, dumb-bells, etcetera, without which no model undergraduate's rooms would be complete. George could hardly help sighing as his thoughts flew back to his own dingy cell under "H" staircase. "Lay another plate, Smith," said Jim, addressing his "gyp"; "and now, old man, make yourself comfortable." And then the host, in a business-like way, devoted himself to the mysteries of coffee-making and egg-boiling, in the midst of which occupation Clarke and the other Saint George's man arrived. George felt very miserable on being introduced and devoutly hoped the fellows would have sufficient to converse about among themselves, without it being needful for him to come under observation. This reserve, however, he was not destined to maintain for very long. "Halliday," said Clarke, "were you in chapel this morning?" "Yes." "Well, did you ever hear the organ so grandly played?" George blushed deeply, half with pleasure at this genuine compliment, and half with nervousness at the turn the talk was taking. "And it wasn't the regular organist," said Clarke's friend, "for I saw _him_ downstairs." "No, it's some fellow--plough-boy or stable-boy; or somebody he's got hold of, so I heard. Whoever he is, he knows how to play." At this point Jim was as red in the face as George, and equally embarrassed. "Is the fellow at college, do you know?" asked Clarke's friend. "I believe so, in fact--" "In fact," broke out Jim, in fear of further awkwardness, "in fact the gentleman you are speaking of is my friend here." If Clarke and his friend had suddenly been confronted by a tribe of wild Indians they could not have been more taken aback than they were at this announcement. In fact, it was an awkward moment for everybody. Nobody knew exactly what to say, or which way to look. But a welcome interruption arrived. My heart beat suddenly as I heard at the bottom of the stairs a sound. Some one was coming up two steps at a time. Nearer and nearer the light feet came, and my agitation told me whom they brought. There was a rap at the door, a click on the latch, and then, after all these years, I saw once more my dear first master, Charlie Newcome. Little he guessed I was so near him! He had spent the previous day with Jim, and was therefore no stranger in his rooms; indeed, from the moment he entered them, he appeared as much at home there as their own master. He greeted the visitors pleasantly, and then, in the old Randlebury style, demanded if breakfast was anywhere near ready, as he was starving. He had the beginnings of a fierce moustache, he stood six feet high in his boots, and there was a look of power about him which exceeded even the promise of his Randlebury days. Otherwise he was the same. He had the same clear, honest eyes, the same frank smile, the same merry laugh, for which everyone had loved him then; and as I looked at him and rejoiced, I felt I would give the world to be back in my old place in his pocket. Jim, as he himself had said, was proud enough of his friend, and no wonder. His arrival, too, at the instant when it occurred, was most opportune, and made him a specially welcome addition to our party, which, including my master, was very soon on the best of terms round the hospitable Jim's table. "It's not often," said that worthy, "one gets two pairs of deadly enemies eating out of the same dish." "What's the fellow talking about?" asked Charlie, passing up his plate for more steak. "Well," said Jim, "you and I are, or shall be, deadly enemies to-day, old man." "Rather," responded Charlie; "so much the worse for you. But where's the other pair?" "Why, Clarke and Reader." "I?" exclaimed Clarke, in an alarmed tone. "I hope Mr Reader and I are not at enmity?" "Oh, yes, you are; don't you know Reader's the fellow in against you for the `Wigram'?" said Jim. Clarke was astonished. He had been told there was another candidate for the scholarship, who in some quarters was considered a formidable opponent, but he had never fairly realised the fact till now. "I'm very glad to meet you," said he, courteously, to George, "though I can hardly wish you as much success in your exam, as I dare say you wish yourself." "I hope I shall not break my heart if I lose," replied George. "Are we the only two in for it?" And then they fell to talking about their approaching struggle, during which I gave heed to a hurried talk between Charlie and Jim. "Do you remember Tom Drift?" asked Jim. Charlie's face at once became serious as he replied, "How could I forget him? What about him?" "Why," said Jim, "I had a letter from my brother Joe the other day, and he says Tom has altogether gone to the bad. He met him drunk coming out of some slum in Holborn, and followed him for a long time in hopes of being able to speak to him, but the fellow couldn't, or wouldn't recognise him, and only swore. He is living at some disreputable lodging-house--" "Where?" exclaimed Charlie, excitedly. "I don't know. Why! what's the matter?" "Can you find out his address?" asked Charlie. "I dare say. Why do you want it?" "Because I must go and see him. Could you find out to-day by telegram?" "I'll try." Presently he added, "I could never make out why you stuck to the fellow as you did, old man, especially when he turned against you. You're a better man than ever I shall be." "Nonsense! I promised once to be his friend, that's all. Do send the telegram soon. And now tell me who's the pale man talking to Clarke?" "A fellow called Reader--one of the cleverest men we've got." "He looks half-starved!" "Yes; I'm afraid he's--I mean, I don't think he takes proper care of himself." "Pity," said Charlie. "I say, old man, this is rare steak! Give us a bit more. What time does the match begin?" "At two. You old beggar! see if I don't pay off some old scores before the day's over." "I thought you told me once your people didn't fancy your going in for athletics?" "No more they do. I expect a stinger by this post; but I shall not open it till after the match. What matches we used to have at Randlebury!" "Didn't we!" "And do you remember what an ass you used to make of yourself over that precious silver watch of yours?" It did one good to hear the laugh with which Charlie greeted this reminder. "I'd give my repeater, and a ten-pound note besides, to get back that old watch," said he. (If he had but known!) "But there's no knowing where it is now; poor Tom Drift must have parted with it years ago." With such talk the meal proceeded, and presently the conversation grew more general, and branched out on to all sorts of topics. George, having got over the first strangeness of finding himself in society, found it not so bad after all; and, indeed, he very soon amazed himself by the amount he talked. It was a new world to him, the hermit of the "Mouse-trap," to find himself exchanging ideas with men of his own intellectual standing; and he certainly forgave Jim his persistency in compelling his company this morning. He forgot the patches in his clothes among such gentlemen as Clarke and Charlie, and for the first time in his life felt himself superior to his natural diffidence and reserve. Who could help being at his ease where Charlie was? He kept up a running fire of chaff at his old schoolfellow, for which occasionally the others came in; and if it be true that laughter is a good digestive, Jim Halliday's breakfast that morning must have agreed with the five who partook of it. "Who's this coming?" suddenly exclaimed the latter, as there came a sound of footsteps slowly ascending the stairs. "Two of them!" said Charlie. "Perhaps it's your tailor and your hatter with their little bills." "Whoever it is, they're blowing hard," said Clarke. "They don't enjoy my `Gradus at Parnassum,'" said Jim. "Come in, all of you!" he shouted. The door opened slowly, and there appeared to the astonished eyes of Jim and his party a grave middle-aged gentleman and still more grave and middle-aged lady. "Oh, my prophetic soul! my uncle and aunt!" groaned Jim. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. HOW JIM'S UNCLE AND AUNT SPENT A DIFFERENT SORT OF DAY FROM THAT WHICH THEY HAD EXPECTED. The apparition was indeed none other than Jim Halliday's dreaded uncle and aunt, and the object of their visit was easy to guess. They had, in fact, taken the long journey from Cornwall as fast as express trains could bring them, in order to remonstrate personally with their depraved nephew on the error of his ways. They were evidently as astonished to find Jim's room full of visitors, as Jim on his part was to see them, and they looked so taken aback and disconcerted that the party at once rose, and offered to take their leave. Clarke and his friend actually did depart, but Jim still had presence of mind enough left to groan out an entreaty to Charlie and my master that they would remain--an appeal so pathetic that there was no resisting it. Charlie politely handed the good people to chairs, while Jim, under cover of preparing a second edition of breakfast, hastily arranged his plan of defence. "Reader," he whispered to my master, "whatever you do, keep the talk going, old man, or it's all U P." Then turning to his relatives, he broke out,-- "This _is_ a surprise! How are you both? Upon my word, you're looking grandly. How kind to come and see me up here! Will you allow me to introduce my two friends, Ensign Newcome and Mr Reader? My uncle and aunt, gentlemen." The uncle and aunt bowed gravely, and in a frightened sort of way, in acknowledgment of the courteous greeting of the two young men. It was clear they had expected to find Jim alone, and over a quiet cup of cocoa to reduce him to a sense of his wickedness. It put them out of their reckoning, quite, to find that, if they were to open fire at once, it would have to be in the presence of these two gentlemanly and rather imposing strangers. However, they were too full of their mission to delay, and so the uncle began,-- "It will be as well, James, that I should state to you--" "Not a word now, till you've had some breakfast," interrupted the wary Jim. "My poor dear aunt must be simply fagged to death. Do take your bonnet off, and come and sit here in the easy-chair. Let me make you some cocoa; I know the way you take it, exactly. Try those chops in front of you, sir, they are prime, as Charlie will tell you. Reader, old man, draw in and keep us company. Well, I declare, this _is_ a jolly family party! And what's the news down in your part of the world? Have you had a good harvest? My uncle comes from Cornwall, Charlie." And he gave his friend a lugubrious wink, as much as to say, "Keep it up." "Do you live near the sea?" thereupon began Charlie. "Pretty near, that is, about twenty miles off," said the uncle, looking at Charlie under his spectacles. "My love, the gentleman will laugh at you," said his good lady. "I call twenty miles a long way." "I perfectly agree with you, ma'am," said Charlie, "Twenty miles is a good distance in this little island of ours. But it's curious how little they make of such a distance in a big country like India, for instance, where I am going. There, I am told, it is quite a common thing for a man to be twenty miles from his next-door neighbour, and yet be on constant visiting terms." "Dear me!" said the uncle. "You don't know India, I suppose, sir?" inquired Charlie. "No; that is--" "He's only read about it in books," again put in the aunt; "and so, my love, you'd better say at once you don't know anything about it." "Well," said Charlie, "it depends a good deal on the books. Some books of travel are so vivid one almost seems to be in the country they describe. "Er--what did you say, Reader?" Reader was quick enough to take this broad hint, and keep up the talk. "To my mind, the most interesting books are those which describe, not so much places, as people and their manners. There are a great many books of this kind about India. One I lately read was specially interesting." And then, to Jim's unbounded delight and gratitude, George began calmly to give a review a quarter of an hour long of the work in question for the benefit of the two old people, who, as they listened, became more and more impressed with the importance of their nephew's friend, and of the impossibility of obtruding their special grievance on the party at the present time. Indeed, the aunt had almost forgotten the speech with which she had come prepared, in her pleasure at hearing the young men talk, and she even joined in the conversation in a manner which showed how she enjoyed it. The uncle was still gloomy, and appeared to be waiting the first favourable opportunity for "coming to the point." The opportunity, however, never occurred. After a long and lively talk on all sorts of matters, Jim adroitly turned the conversation on to the subject of athletics by appealing to his uncle to add his voice to that of Reader's other friends in rebuking him for never taking any exercise. "Look at his pale face!" he exclaimed; "isn't it a disgrace?" George bore this attack good-naturedly, and began to excuse himself; but the uncle, who had not before noticed his looks, interrupted him by saying,-- "Pardon me, sir, but I quite agree with James. If is very wrong to cultivate the brain at the expense of the body." This observation brought down Charlie's hearty approval, who forthwith launched into a rhapsody on athletic sports--particularly football-- appealing in every sentence to the uncle, who now found himself fairly in the toils. "If it were for nothing more than the moral training it gives a man," said Charlie--"for the pluck, manliness, and endurance it puts into him--we couldn't over-estimate the value of athletics; could we, sir?" "No--er--that is to say--" "Why, look at Jim, here! Upon my word, sir, if you'll excuse me saying it, it does you the greatest credit the way he has been brought up to value healthy exercise. Why, there are some parents and guardians who, instead of encouraging that sort of thing, would positively so far wrong their sons as to forbid it. I can't make out that sort of training, can you?" "Eh? Well, possibly not," faltered the uncle, turning very red. "Of course not, and you'll have your reward in seeing Jim turn out a far better clergyman than your mollycoddles, who don't know the way to look their fellow-men straight in the face. Jim, old man, you've had my cup up there ten minutes; hand it up." Jim filled it to overflowing, as a token, perhaps, of the gratitude of his heart towards his champion, and forthwith handed it up. "And _a propos_ of that," pursued Charlie, having gulped down his coffee, "you are just come up here in the nick of time, for there's a glorious football-match on to-day--" The uncle groaned and the aunt fidgeted. "In which Jim is playing, and no one deserves the honour better. You must come and see it by all means. Eh, Jim?" "Rather," said Jim; "it would never do to miss it, especially as Newcome is playing against us. The worst of it is, as we are both engaged, there will be no one to pilot you about." "I shall be very glad," said Reader--though, if truth must be told, his politeness cost him an effort--"if your uncle and aunt will let me. I'm almost as great a stranger, though, in the town as they are." "You are very kind, sir," said Jim's aunt, who had been long since gained over by the enemy. "We shall be most pleased to have your escort. Eh, my love? Besides, we shall help to keep you out in the fresh air for once. But, James," she said, "I can't get over you and Mr Newcome being opponents in this match and yet such friends." Every one laughed at this, and Charlie confided to the good lady his fixed determination of breaking her nephew's legs before the day was out--a purpose which, from the speaker's point of view, she could not help admitting was a laudable one. Thus the breakfast ended very satisfactorily for everyone except the uncle, who had at last discovered the trap into which he had let himself fall, from which, however, he could not with grace free himself. Three hours later the two worthies, having seen many of the sights of Cambridge with the advantage of Reader's escort, found themselves with some hundreds of other spectators on the field in which the notable football-match of Cambridge _versus_ Sandhurst was immediately about to begin. Jim Halliday's uncle and aunt could hardly have denied that the thirty young men, half of them in blue jerseys and half in red, who were now strolling out onto the ground, were as fine a body of youths as one could easily encounter in the course of a long day's march. The picture of health and physique, they seemed almost like some of those heroes of old beside whom poor everyday man was wont to shrink into insignificance. Among the blues towered Jim, among the reds Charlie, two by no means the least noble-looking of the company. "How well James looks in that dress, my love!" said the aunt. "My love" could hardly dispute the fact, so he said nothing; but in his secret heart he began to doubt whether he had not taken an exaggerated view of the demoralising nature of athletic sports. Play was soon ordered, and then amidst breathless silence the ball shot upward, propelled by the vigorous kick of the Sandhurst captain. It is not my purpose to follow in all its details the famous match of which I was that day spectator. My muse has other things to sing of besides rallies and charges, scrimmages and drop kicks, touch-downs and passings. To me the game was chiefly interesting as it was interesting to Jim Halliday and Charlie Newcome; but as during the first part of the match both these worthies were what they would call "out of it"--that is, on outpost duty--I found the company I was in better worth studying than the ups and downs of the football. When the game first began the two good people gazed in silent astonishment. It always takes some time to understand the humour of a football-match from outside, and Jim's uncle and aunt consequently for a time could make nothing out of the constant succession of charges and scrimmages of which they were witnesses. Presently, however, with the aid of their own observation and the remarks of people around them, they came to appreciate the sport better, and grew proportionately interested. After a time the interest grew to excitement and excitement found relief in speech. "There's that little red-haired fellow got it again!" exclaimed the aunt; "see how he runs!" "Wait a bit!" cried the uncle; "that fellow there will catch him--no, he hasn't--just look at him; there's smartness for you! Ah! he's down!" "But another of the blues has got the ball!" cried the aunt, starting on tiptoe. "Well, to be sure! five onto one! what a shame!" And so they kept up a running commentary on the fortunes of the game, much to George's amusement and that of those near us. Now and then the uncle appeared suddenly to recollect himself, and would come out with a grunt of disapproval. Once, for instance, when by a sort of common impulse the whole of the players engaged in one of the scrimmages fell to the ground, he was hardy enough to ejaculate-- "Disgraceful!" "Hold your tongue, my love," broke in his wife; "you know very well you'd like to be in it yourself if you were a boy. _I_ would!" After that the uncle, whatever he thought, said nothing. The sides appeared to be very evenly matched; so much so, that when "half-time" was called neither had gained the least advantage. Just as the sides were changing over, preparing to renew the contest, a man came running up to where our party stood and called out,-- "Will anyone lend me a watch? Mine has stopped." This man was the timekeeper for Cambridge, and indeed was no other than Clarke's friend, one of the breakfast-party that morning. "Here is one!" cried George, recognising him and unfastening me from his ribbon-chain. The next moment I was hurrying towards the goals in my borrower's hands. I had now nothing for it but to attend closely to the game, for the old gentleman and lady were too far away for me to be able to observe them any further. The ball was started again, and I had the satisfaction of seeing that both Jim and Charlie were in new posts, which promised a better chance of sport. And so it happened. Hardly had the first scrimmage been formed when Jim was seen slipping out of it with the ball under his arm, making straight for the Sandhurst goal. He was quickly stopped, however, and after a desperate encounter the ball got free and rolled out of the crush towards where Charlie stood. He, not waiting to pick it up, went at it with a flying kick. Up flew the ball, amid cheers and shouts, right over the heads of the players, and had it not been for the promptitude of the Cambridge "backs" it might have got behind their goal. And now, as if every one knew the time was getting short, the play became harder than ever. Many a time did I catch sight of my two Randlebury friends in the thick of the fight, sometimes hand to hand, sometimes separated by a living wall of humanity, but always doing their work, and straining for the one object. The time went on. The man who held me looked at me now oftener than he had done hitherto; and presently, when I pointed to five minutes to four, he cried out to a player near him, "Five minutes more." That player was Charlie Newcome, and I saw his face flush as of old, and knew he at any rate intended to make the most of the brief time remaining. But two of the minutes were gone before his chance came. Then there was a cry, and all eyes turned towards him, for there came the ball flying straight to where he stood. In a moment he had it, and started to run. It was a desperate chance, but Charlie was ready for desperate deeds. Shout rose on shout, and cheer on cheer, as first one, then another of the enemy was overturned or dodged. The more he achieved, the less his enemies ventured against him, and he dashed through their "forwards" and between their "quarter-backs." Next moment, with a mighty swoop, their "half-back" fell to the earth. And now there are but two men to pass, and one of these is Jim Halliday. The avenging host follows in hot haste behind, but the issue of the fight lies with these two. See the grin of joy on Jim's face as he throws away his cap, and watches his dear enemy advance! It was as if a trumpet-call had suddenly sounded in the ears of two old chargers, and to them that moment the world was all contained in the space which severed them. Straight as an arrow rushed Charlie, firm as a rock waited Jim. Nor had he long to wait. With a bound and a howl his enemy leapt at him, and next moment the two were locked in an embrace the shock of which even I could distinctly hear. Oh, shades of Randlebury I did your school every turn out two finer men than this pair of struggling, straining, rival friends! The collision occurred close to the goal-line, and a moment afterwards a cry of "Maul!" proclaimed that they had in their struggle crossed the line, and that consequently (in accordance with the law of the game) the contest for the ball must be decided by these two alone, without aid or hindrance from the breathless friends and foes who stood round. A fair field and no favour! A ring was formed, and as my heart beat rapidly on towards the critical moment, these two strained every nerve to get the advantage for his side before "time" should be called. "Bravo, our man!" cried one. "Stick to it, Newcome!" shouted others. "Now you have it, Halliday!" called out a third. Never was duel before the walls of Troy more desperate. The crowd burst in onto the field and thronged round, foremost among whom Jim's aunt's voice was heard crying out shrilly,-- "Well, I never, it's James and Mr Newcome, my love. How hot they are!" It was evident the contest in which the two youths were engaged was one not destined to end before time was up. I pointed to within half a minute of the fated hour--and it would take far longer than that for even so powerful a champion as Jim to wrest the ball from Charlie's defiant grasp. The timekeeper turned away from the rivals and held me up. On went my hand, and on went the struggle. "Now, Newcome; one tug more?" "Bravo, our man! You'll do it yet!" "Time's up! No side!" Then rose those two from the earth, and immediately the astonished Jim felt himself embraced before the whole multitude by his aunt. "Well, James, and how do you feel after it all?" "Hungry," replied Jim. So ended the famous match. After that Jim had no more trouble from his uncle and aunt on the subject of athletics, which they were fain to admit were a branch of science beyond their comprehension. Charlie started that same night for London, with the intention of making one more effort to help Tom Drift at all hazards. I, meanwhile, was restored to the possession of my lawful owner, who returned to his studies in the "Mouse-trap"; sitting up all night, I am sorry to say, to make up for the loss of the day. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. HOW GEORGE READER WENT UP FOR HIS FINAL EXAMINATION AND LEFT ME BEHIND HIM. "Old man, you're overdoing it!" These words were uttered by Jim Halliday, one evening two years after the events related in our last chapter, to his friend George Reader, as the two sat together in Jim's rooms at Saint George's. Time had wrought changes with both. My master had secured the scholarship for which he had worked so hard during his first year's residence, and no longer inhabited the "Mouse-trap." His present quarters were the rooms immediately above those in which he was at this moment sitting, and it is hardly necessary to say that the two friends were constantly in one another's society. George, though still retaining much of his shyness, had made many acquaintances at his college, but Jim was his only friend. The two had their meals together, attended lectures together, worked together, and, though a greater contrast in all respects could hardly have been possible, were fairly inseparable. At the present moment they were both working hard for the grand Tripos examination which was to close their college career. Every one said George would stand high in this, and Jim (since he had taken to hard reading) was expected to pass too, though how, none of his friends cared to prophesy. They were working hard on the evening in question, when Jim, suddenly shutting up his books and pushing back his chair, exclaimed,-- "Old man, you're overdoing it!" George looked up from his work, surprised at the interruption. Alas! his pale face and sunken eyes testified only too forcibly to his friend's protest. I, who knew him best, and saw him at all times, had watched with grief the steady and persistent undermining of his health, at no times robust, and dreaded to think what might be the result of this protracted strain on his constitution. "I tell you, you're overdoing it, old man, and you must pull up!" "Suppose we talk of that afterwards," said George. "Not at all," retorted the dogged Jim; "just shut up your books, Reader, and listen to me." "I'll listen to you, Jim, but don't make me shut up my books. What have you got to say?" "Just this; you're doing too much. I can see it. Everybody can see it. Do you think I can't see your eyes and your cheeks? Do you think I can't hear you blowing like--" "Really--" began George. "Listen to me!" went on Jim--"blowing like an old broken-winded horse? Yes, you may laugh, but I mean it. Do you think I don't know you've never been out of doors ten minutes that you could help for six months? and that you have even given up the organ?" "That's true," groaned George, leaning back in his chair. "Of course it's true, and it's equally true that you'll smash up altogether if this goes on much longer. Then what will be the use of all your achievements? What will be the good of them to your father and mother, for instance, when you are knocked up?" "I _must_ work up to the Tripos now," pleaded George, "it's only a fortnight." "My dear fellow, how you talk! As if you weren't certain of a first class even if you were not to look at another book between now and then." "I'm not at all certain," said George, anxiously. "Yes you are, and if you hadn't worked yourself into an unhealthy, morbid state you would know it. No, old fellow, we've never quarrelled yet, and don't let us begin." "Certainly not. Why should we?" "We shall if I don't get my way. Now tell me, what time did you go to bed last night?" "Three, I believe." "No, it wasn't, it was four, for I heard you over head; and the night before it was three; and the night before that, if I mistake not, you didn't go to bed at all. Eh?" George smiled, but said nothing. "Well," said Jim, putting down his foot, "this must be stopped. You may work till ten every night, but then you _must_ go to bed, or you and I will fall out." Jim looked so grave as he said this that George was bound to take it in the earnest way in which it was meant. A long argument ensued. George pleaded, Jim bullied, and at last my master was obliged to promise to give over work at twelve every night for the next fortnight. But more he would not promise. No persuasions could tempt him out of doors for more than a hurried five minutes' walk, or induce him to yield to the fascinations of the organ. As the days went on, too, he grew more and more despondent about his own chances, and implored more than once to be released from his promise. But Jim was inflexible, and held him grimly to his engagement. "You're certain to be among the first three," he said, over and over again, "and if you'll only give yourself two days' rest you may be first." "Yes, of the third class," mournfully replied my master. "I tell you what, Jim, it isn't fair to bind me down to a promise I made almost under compulsion, and for fear of making you angry." "It's quite fair, and you would make me angry if you didn't stick to it. Why, my dear fellow, has it ever occurred to you I'm in for the same Tripos as you, and I'm not behaving as ridiculously as you?" "You are safe to be in the second class," said George. "I wish I were as safe of a second as you are of a first; but I wouldn't kill myself to be senior classic." "You forget how important it is for me to take a good place." "It is far more important to retain your health." "Think what a difference it would make at home if I got a fellowship." "What a difference it would make if you had to go to a hospital." "What a pity, when I have the chance, not to use it." "What a pity, when you have the chance, to throw it away by knocking yourself up." "Surely four days can't make any difference." "Then why not stop work now and take a rest?" It was plain to see these two would never agree, and so the time went on until the date of the examination arrived. The night before the two friends met in George's room. George was in low spirits, nervous and fretful. It was plain to see his friend's protest had come too late to be of much use, for he had grown more and more worn every day; and the additional hours spent in bed had only been a source of worry and vexation. Jim, on the other hand, was doing his best to keep up, not his own spirits only, but those of his friend. His chances of a second class were as momentous to him (though he would not admit it) as his friend's of a first, and he too was experiencing, though in a less degree, that heart-sinking which so often characterises the eve of an examination. "You are not going to work to-night?" said he to my master. "I think I must," said George, wearily, and putting his hand to his forehead. "It can't be any earthly good now," said Jim, "so let's forget all about it for a bit and talk of something else." Forget all about it! George smiled in a melancholy way at the words; but nevertheless he was not well enough to contest the point. "And by the way," added Jim, cheerily, "I've got a letter from Newcome (you remember Newcome, George, the man who played for Sandhurst against us two years ago) I think you'll like to hear." There was one in the room, whether George liked it or not, who was dying to hear it! "He's just gone out to India, you know, to join his regiment." "Here's his letter," he said, producing it and nervously glancing at George to see if he appeared interested. "Shall I read it?" "Yes, please," said George, slowly. "It's not a long one. `Dear Jim,' he says, `I wish you were out here with all my heart. I should at least have one fellow to talk to among all these strangers. I had a decent enough passage. Father Ocean was on his good behaviour, and the vessel was a snug one. We came in for rough weather in the Persian Gulf, but it didn't afflict me much, and I landed here two days ago, safe and sound. I reported myself to our colonel yesterday and was introduced to my fellow-officers. Some of them are decent fellows, though perhaps hardly in your and my line. I had been told the officers of our regiment were a rackety lot, but I don't see much sign of that yet. It's awfully dull here, and I would give a lot to be up in your rooms at George's, sprawling in your easy- chair and talking over Randlebury days. I suppose you will soon be in for your final. Good luck be with you, my boy! Remember me in your will if you get made a Fellow. I suppose the man I met in your rooms once--Read I believe his name was--will be first. Talking of that day, have you heard lately of Tom Drift? I shall always be glad I went up to town that night and found him out, though I lost him again so soon. I inquired everywhere when I was last in town, but nothing was known of him, except that he was supposed to have been engaged in some--' But that's all about an old schoolfellow and won't interest you. `We expect to be ordered up-country pretty soon now, and meanwhile have liberty to amuse ourselves pretty much as we like, but, as far as I can see, cards unfortunately seem the only recreation in which the officers indulge. However, I shall be kept busy with drill, and being junior officer expect I shall be for some time fag of the regiment. Mind you write as soon as ever you get this, and a regular yarn. I have had to write this in a hurry, and in a room where a noise is going on. By next mail you shall get a full, true, and particular account of all the doings, sayings, and adventures of yours as ever, C.N.' "I'm afraid," said Jim, as he folded up the letter, "it will be rather dull out there, for--hullo!" This ejaculation was caused by seeing that George was sitting motionless with his elbows on the table and his face buried in his hands. "What's the matter?" he said, getting up and laying his hand on his friend's arm. George looked up suddenly with a scared face, which frightened Jim. "Old man, aren't you well?" said the latter anxiously. "Eh?--oh, yes! I'm all right. Why--why do you ask? But I say, Jim, this room is close. Let's go out and take a turn in the big court." Jim, in sore perplexity, complied, and for an hour those two paced the flags round the great quadrangle. George was himself again, much to Jim's relief, and suffered himself to be sent uncomplainingly to bed at ten. To bed, but not to sleep. All night long I heard him toss to and fro, vainly endeavouring to recall Greek and Latin lines or some other fragment of his studies. At about six he dozed fitfully for an hour, and then came the knock at the door which summoned him from his bed to the first day of his ordeal. I would rather not dwell on those examination days, for I could tell, if no one else could, that my master was really ill, and was only prevented by sheer excitement from succumbing at any moment. As day by day passed I could see the effort becoming more and more difficult. The nights were worse than the days--sleepless, feverish, distracted. It was evident this could not go on for long. The last day of the examination arrived, and my master was in his usual place in the Senate House. His pen flew swiftly all the morning along the paper, and one by one, a triumphant tick was set against the printed questions before him. I could see no one as well employed as he. Jim, at a distant desk, was biting the end of his pen and looking up at the ceiling; other men sat back in their seats and stared with knitted brows at the paper before them; others buried their fingers in their hair and looked the picture of despair. But still my master wrote on. It wanted half an hour to the time of closing when he reached the last question on the paper. I saw his lips curl into a smile as he dashed his pen into the ink and began to write. Then suddenly it dropped from his fingers, and his hands were clasped to his forehead. He made no motion and uttered no cry; men went on with their work on each side of him, and professors at their desks never turned his way. I looked wildly towards Jim; he sat there, biting the end of his pen and scowling at the question before him, but for a long time never looked our way. At last his head turned, and in an instant he was at his friend's side. Others came round too and offered help. Among them my poor master was borne from the hall and carried to his rooms, and that evening it was known all over the University that Reader, of George's, had been taken ill during the Tripos examination, and now lay delirious in his rooms in college. Every one believed the attack was but a slight one, but I feared the worst; I knew how systematically and fatally my master's constitution had been undermined by the work of the last three years, and felt sure it could never rally from the fierce fever which had laid him low. And it never did. The fever left him in due time, and his mind ceased to wander, but every hour his strength failed him. His parents and Jim, and sometimes his old friend the rector, would constantly be about his bed, and to all of them it soon became evident what little hope there was of his recovery. Indeed, he must have guessed it too! One day, as Jim sat with him, a faint shout was heard below in the quadrangle. "What's that?" inquired George. "I'll see," said Jim, and he went lightly from the room. Presently he returned with a face almost beaming. "It's good news," he said; "they were reading the result of the Tripos." "And where are you?" asked George. "_You_ are first!" said Jim, proudly. "Where are you?" repeated George. "I am twelfth." "In the first class?" "Yes." "That is good news, old fellow!" "That shout was in your honour, you know; our college is as proud as anything to have the first man." George smiled feebly, and for a long time both were silent. Then George said,-- "You were right, Jim, after all. If I had listened to you I should have been wiser." "Never mind, old man, you'll know better another time." "I shall never have the chance, Jim." "Don't say that, George; every one hopes you'll get better." George smiled again, then said,-- "Jim, you will look after my father and mother, won't you? You know I've got a little money now, and they will be comfortably off, but you'll go and see them now and then?" Jim laid his hand on the wasted hand of his friend. "And, Jim, I want you to take my watch when I'm gone. I always valued it as much as anything, and I'd like you to have it." Poor Jim could say nothing, he only gave another pressure of his friend's hand. Then presently Mrs Reader returned to the room, and he slipped away. The end was not long in coming. One afternoon as the four friends he loved most stood round his bed, George opened his eyes, and said,-- "Listen!" "What is it, lad?" whispered the father. "An organ--somewhere--open the window." They opened the window, but the only music out there was the chirping of birds in the trees, and the distant footfalls of passers-by. "Listen, there it is!" he said again. "What is it playing?" asked the clergyman. "A new tune." And almost as he spoke the words, he closed his eyes for the last time on earth. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. HOW I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF AN OLD FRIEND. Boys may imagine with what astonishment Jim Halliday discovered, on receiving the legacy bequeathed him by his dead friend, that I was the very watch which years before he had known so familiarly as the property of Charlie Newcome. At first he could not believe it, and marvelled how any two watches could be so much alike. Then he discovered the "C.N." scratched long ago inside, which he well remembered. And further inquiries enabling him to trace me back to the Muggerbridge silversmith, and from him to the pawnbroker's sale in London, he had no doubt left that I was actually the watch of which nothing had been heard since Tom Drift owned me. My new master did not long remain in Cambridge after the death of his friend. He left the University in many respects a more thoughtful and earnest man than he had entered it, and in leaving it set himself honestly and faithfully to the work for which he had prepared, and on which his heart was fixed. I shall not follow him through all the labours of his first village curacy, which lasted a year, during which time many people learned to love the manly, open-hearted young clergyman, and to bless the day when he had been sent among them. At the end of a year he was removed to the charge of a church in a distant large seaport, where everything was in strangest contrast with the scenes he had just left. Instead of simple villagers and rustics, his work now lay amongst labourers and artisans of the poorest and lowest class. Instead of fresh country air he had now to breathe the vitiated air of close courts and ill-kept streets; and instead of an atmosphere of repose and innocence, he had now to move in an atmosphere of vice and disorder, from which very often his soul turned with a deep disgust. Still he worked manfully at his post with a bold heart, ready to face any hardship in the service of his Master, and never weary of striving by the Spirit's help to bring into the hard lives around him the elevating joys which they alone know who can call Christ the Saviour theirs. One day an adventure befell him which had a strange bearing on my own fortunes, and the fortunes of more than one of my several masters. The gaol chaplain at Seatown had recently died, and during the interval necessary for appointing a successor Jim was asked and undertook to add to his other labours that of visiting the prisoners confined there. It was melancholy, and on the whole monotonous work, for the persons whom he thus attended, were mostly stupid, ignorant beings on whose hardened souls it was difficult indeed to make the slightest impression. They listened sulkily to what the chaplain had to say, but to all appearance neither understood nor cared about a single word, and he had the disappointment of noticing, week after week, and month after month, scarcely a sign of good rising out of his labours in the case of any one of them. One day the governor met him as he was about to pay his customary visits. "Oh, good-morning, sir. You'll find a new customer to-day." The gaol governor, you will observe, spoke about his prisoners in a very commercial sort of way. "Yes, and a queer one too," he added; "he doesn't look like one of our regular customers." "What is he imprisoned for?" "He was drunk, and quarrelled with a sailor on the quay, and pushed him into the water, I believe." "Was the sailor drowned?" "No, they fished him out, but this gentleman has got six months for it. He seems very down about it, so I'd like you to see him." "All right; I will make a point of visiting his cell. Good-morning." And Jim went on his round, thinking very little about the governor's communication. Presently he came to the gallery in which the new prisoner's cell was, and asked the turnkey to show him the door. "No use you a-going in there," muttered that functionary. "Why?" asked Jim. "He do swear so as I never hear a cove swear afore." "Ah," said Jim, "and I suppose you've heard a good deal too in your time." "So you may say, but this here young fellow comes out with it as if he'd skin you alive." "Well, I must see him. Let me in, please." When the door was opened the prisoner's back was turned, nor did he alter his position as Jim entered the cell. There was undoubtedly something unusual about the man. His figure was not that of a labourer or a rough, nor was his attitude one of stolid brutishness, such as the chaplain had grown only too familiar with. Jim stood a moment irresolute, and then said,-- "May I speak to you, friend?" The man turned himself, and without raising his eyes from the stone floor, poured out a volley of curses which fully justified the turnkey's description. Jim started, and uttered a quick exclamation. But it was not at the curses, terrible as they were. No, his amazement was of another kind altogether; for in the face and voice of this unhappy speaker he was forcibly reminded of one he once knew in very different scenes. As the man went on he watched him keenly and earnestly. He heeded not the oaths, or the taunts, or the threats which flowed from his lips; but as word followed word, and gesture gesture, and look look, he became gradually convinced that the resemblance was more than imaginary--that, indeed, this blaspheming convict was one whom he had once known and still remembered. Walking up to him, and laying his hand on his shoulder, Jim said, quietly,-- "Tom Drift, do you remember me?" The man started as for an instant he raised his eyes. Then, letting them drop once more, he growled,-- "That's not my name; I don't know you. Let me alone!" Jim, more convinced than ever, now did the wisest thing he could in leaving the cell without another word. "Well," said the turnkey, with a half-triumphant grin, as they turned to leave the gallery, "wasn't I right? Didn't he give you half a dozen as pretty bits of language as you ever heard?" "Do not speak to me about it, please," replied Jim, more tartly than he had been ever known to speak to any one. He did not return to the gaol for a week; and then the first visit he paid was to the new prisoner's cell. He entered it anxiously, and not without misgivings. Tom Drift was sitting on his little bench with his head in his hands. "May I come in?" said Jim, nervously. Tom neither spoke nor raised his head; and Jim quietly stepped in. It was evident the interview of a week ago had had its effect on Tom Drift. He seemed as he sat there like a man who would fain lose himself if he only knew how. He never once raised his head from his hands or uttered a syllable while Jim sat and talked to him. The latter knew better than to return to the topic which had so startled the prisoner a week ago, and contented himself with mere kindly talk and the reading of a short passage of Scripture. All this Tom suffered without interruption, stirring neither head nor foot all the time. "Now, good-bye," said Jim, rising; "don't get to think you have no friends." The man fidgeted impatiently, and next moment Jim was out in the gallery. "What's that man's name?" he inquired of the turnkey. "Dykes; and I tell you what, Mr Halliday, he--" "Open this door, please, my man," interrupted Jim, by way of cutting him short. During the week which followed Jim was restless and out of spirits. He seemed unable to settle down to anything, and it was evident his heart was ill at ease--why, it was easy to guess. He had found Tom Drift, and there was a chance of rescuing him. But how to do it? How to approach one who was ashamed of his own name, and who repelled with an oath every offer of help? Long and earnestly did my master think over the matter. He also wrote a long letter to Charlie, telling him all, and promising to do all that could be done for the poor prodigal. During the days that intervened before his next visit, too, he made as careful and full inquiries about Tom as it was possible to do. The poor fellow had come to Seatown a month before, and very shortly became a familiar loafer on the quays. No one knew where he came from or why he was in Seatown, unless indeed he expected to be able to conceal himself on some vessel going abroad. Jim found out the lodging- house where he he had lived, but was unable to hear anything there to throw light on what he had been doing, or whence he had come. One man said he had found him once down by the water's edge, looking as though he intended to throw himself in--and the man who gave him drink at the public-house remembered him--and the man whom he had assaulted--but that was all. Wretched enough was the picture it presented of a hopeless, friendless vagabond, weary of life, yet not daring to die, and finding his only solace in deeper degradation. Tom was walking to and fro in his cell the next time Jim called. It was almost the first time I had been able to get a view of his face. And oh! how changed it was. Not merely that it looked pale and worn, with bloodshot eyes and hectic cheeks, but there was a scared despairing look there which fairly shocked me. Dissipation, and shame, and want, had all set their mark there. Alas! how soon may the likeness of God be degraded and defaced! He continued to walk to and fro as Jim sat down and began to read, but I could see he more than once darted a quick glance from under his clouded eyebrows at my master. I could tell by the beating of the latter's heart that he had made up his mind not to leave this morning without an effort to speak to Tom of old times, and I trembled for the result of his venture. It seemed impossible to say a word while Tom continued to walk up and down his cell like a caged beast in his den, and Jim saw that every moment his opportunity was becoming less likely. "Will you stand still and listen to me a moment?" he said at last. Tom growled out an oath, and halted in front of him. "Be quick," said he. "I'm not going to preach," said Jim, "I want you to look at something." "I want to look at nothing," muttered Tom, beginning to walk again. "But you must, you shall look at it!" exclaimed Jim, starting at once to his feet. Tom stopped short, suddenly, and turned upon him like a hunted animal. But Jim neither faltered nor quailed. He walked resolutely up to the poor fellow, and suddenly drawing me from his pocket, held me out towards him, saying,-- "Look at this, Tom Drift!" Tom knew me at once, and I never saw a man change as he did that moment. The savage scowl vanished from his face, and a sudden pallor came to his hollow cheeks. A trembling seized him as he held out his hand to take me, and but for Jim's support he would hardly have remained standing. My master led him gently to the bench, and putting me into his hand, said,-- "I'll leave it with you till to-morrow, old fellow; good-bye." I heard the key turn in the door behind him, and counted his retreating footsteps down the gallery, and then became fully conscious where and in whose charge I was. And now an old familiar sound rang in my ears once more, "Be good to Tom Drift!" Long, long had I ceased to believe it possible that the chance of obeying my dear first master's request would ever again come to me; but here it was. I lay in the prodigal's trembling hands, and looked up into his troubled face, and heard his deep-drawn sigh, and felt that there was still something left for me to do. No one disturbed Tom Drift and me that night, Jim had explained enough to the governor to gain permission for me to remain in the poor fellow's company till next day, and I need hardly say I never left his hand. Memories of better days, of noble friends, of broken vows, crowded in upon him as he sat bending over me that night. Daylight faded, but still he never stirred; the governor made his nightly round, but he never took his eyes off me; and when it was too dark to see me he held me clasped between his hands as tenderly as if I had been a child. I cannot, and would not if I could, describe all that passed through Tom Drift's soul that night. What struggles, what remorse, what penitence. Once he murmured Charlie Newcome's name, and once he whispered to himself, in the words of the parable he had so lately heard, "No more worthy, no more worthy!" Save for this he neither spoke nor moved, till an early streak of dawn shot through the grated window and fell upon us. Then he turned and knelt, with me still clasped in his hands. And so that night, and with it the crisis of Tom Drift's life, was passed. There was no more difficulty now for Jim Halliday. Tom even gave me up when he heard how I had come into my master's possession. Then he asked about Charlie, and Jim told him all he knew. And so the weeks went on, and hope once more lit up Tom Drift's face. How could I help rejoicing in the share I had had in this blessed work of restoration? Alas! how fleeting is this world's satisfaction! A short time afterwards, only a week or so before the termination of Tom Drift's imprisonment, my master was returning home from the gaol, tired- out after his day's work. His way lay over a place half brickfield, half common, across which a narrow footpath went. We had got half way over when suddenly a dreadful sensation seized me. I was slipping through the bottom of my pocket! Though I had a watered ribbon attached to me my master always carried me loose in his waistcoat pocket, with never a suspicion of the hole that was there. But now that hole seemed suddenly to expand in order to let me through. Lower and lower I slipped. I tried to scream, I endeavoured to attract my master's attention. But all in vain. He strode unconsciously on, never giving a thought to me or my peril. I held on as long as I could. Then I dropped. If only I could have fallen on his foot, or struck his knee as I descended! But no. I slid quietly down, scarcely grazing his trousers, and just out of the reach of his boot. For a moment I hoped wildly he would see me as I lay at his feet. Alas! he walked heedlessly on, leaving me on my back on the footpath, powerless to cry after him, and not daring to guess what would become of me. In fact, reader, I was lost. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. HOW I WAS UNEXPECTEDLY ENLISTED IN A NEW SERVICE, IN COMPANY WITH AN IRISHMAN. The first thing I was conscious of, after partially recovering from the agony, mental and bodily, of my late accident, was a sharp tugging at my handle. "Watch! I say, watch!" I heard a voice whisper, "what's to be done?" It was the watered ribbon. "How should I know?" I growled; "if you had done your duty we should never have been here!" One is always ready to blame somebody for everything that happens amiss. "Oh, yes, I dare say," it replied; "if you hadn't poked your nose into that hole we should never have been here." I did not like being thus talked to by a disreputable piece of watered ribbon, and so kept a dignified silence. "What's to be done?" presently repeated my companion, giving me another rude tug at the collar. "Hold your tongues, if we've nothing to say," was my curt reply. "Oh, but I've a lot to say," went on this irrepressible chatterbox; "in the first place--" "_Will_ you be silent?" said I, angrily; "isn't it bad enough to be down here, all through your carelessness?" "But it's not through my carelessness; it was through the hole in the pocket you got down here." "If you had half the sense of a--" "Of a nickel watch, let us say," said the watered ribbon, losing his temper; "and that would be precious little. Well?" "If you had half the sense of a blade of grass, you would have been able to prevent it." "But you see I hadn't half the sense of a blade of grass, or a quarter, or an eighth, or a sixteenth. If I had I should have known better than to lend my moral support to a good-for-nothing, tarnished, ill- regulated, mendacious piece of Britannia metal, that chooses to call itself a silver watch. Ha, ha! what do you think of that?" What I thought of that this impudent ribbon was not destined then to hear; for there came at that moment a sound of approaching footsteps across the field, which made us both hold our breaths. Unless the comer, whoever he was, could get sight of us, he was sure to tread right on the top of us! Luckily the moon was out, and with her aid I made myself as bright as possible. The footsteps belonged to a youth, not, certainly, oppressed by melancholy, to judge by the tune he was whistling, or very infirm, to judge by the pace at which he advanced. He came nearer and nearer, and in another step would have been upon me when suddenly both he and the whistling halted. He stooped, and, with an exclamation of surprise, picked me up. "Man alive, an' it's a watch! Hout, boys! there's luck for yez!" So saying he thrust me and the ribbon into a pocket crowded with all sorts of oddments, and walked on more rapidly than ever. I was too bewildered at first by my narrow escape and the sudden change in my fortunes to pay much heed to my new quarters; but presently that everlasting ribbon jerked my neck roughly, and called out in a loud whisper,-- "I say, watch, he's an Irishman!" "Oh!" said I, as briefly as I could. "Yes, and there's a lucifer here tells me he's no better than he ought to be. What do you think of that?" "I think you and he ought to understand one another, if that's the case," growled I, unable to resist the temptation of a sarcastic reply. "Ho, ho! that's pretty good for you, watch. However, there are some folk who are not as good as they ought to be, let alone better." After a brief pause he began once more. "He's young; only eighteen, I'm told." As no answer was necessary here, I vouchsafed none. "And he's trying to get a job on some ship, there's a nice look-out! What a poor figure _you'd_ cut if you went to sea!" I could not stand this, probably because I knew it was true; so I turned my back, and in self-defence bade good evening to an old pocket-comb which lay near me. "Whew! good evening! whew!" replied he. He had a curious way, this comb, of giving a sort of half-whistle, half-sigh, between every few words he spoke. "I suppose you are an older resident here than I am?" I suggested, by way of making myself agreeable. "No, I'm not, whew! I belong to the other pocket, whew! I don't know why I'm here, whew! but make yourself at home, whew!" "I hear your master is going to sea," said I. "Not at all, whew! Who told you that? whew! but I tell you what, whew--" "What?" I inquired. At this moment our master stopped still in the middle of the road. I looked out and saw that he was standing face to face with a fine soldierly-looking fellow in uniform, who wore a cockade of ribbons on his shako. "Good evening, my lad," said the soldier. "Good evening, cap'n," said the youth. "Not cap'n just yet," said the other, laughing; "call it sergeant." "Well, sargint. Good evening to ye, sargint." "I've been looking for you all day, that I have," said the sergeant. "What, me!" said my new master, in astonishment. "Well, I was told to look out for the finest young fellow in the place, and that's about the same thing." The lad chuckled at this vastly, and then said,-- "And what might ye be wanting me for, gineral, at all at all?" "Faith, Patrick," said the sergeant, adopting the Irish brogue as if he had been a native, "to give yez a message from the Quane, just." "The Quane!" shouted the Irishman. "Sure, no other. She wants your help, my lad." "And she shall have it, bless her! What can I do at all?" "Arrah, she wants yez to foight a blackguard or two that's guv' her impidence." "They have! I'm yer boy for a shindy. Where are they, colonel?" "Not far off. And, by the way, she sent ye this bran new shillin' with her best respex to ye, Pat; and sez I'm to axe ye what you'll take to drink her health in; so come along, my lad." Patrick did come along, and of course was duly and willingly enlisted by his new friend, who promised him honour, and glory, and riches enough to make a commander-in-chief's mouth water. My new master, perhaps, was fond of making himself out a greater simpleton than he really was. At any rate, he appeared to believe every word the recruiting officer told him. And having no friends to say good-bye to, and no luggage to pack up, and no money (unless he pawned me) to spend, he was ready for marching orders immediately. To my surprise, he showed no desire now to dispose of me. "What 'ud I want to give him up?" he said to himself as he held me in his hand. "Shure he'll be handy to tell the toime by on the faylde of battle." And with this satisfactory assurance he put me back in his pocket, which, greatly to my relief, was not the one which contained that asthmatic pocket-comb. Patrick had not to leave for his depot till next day, and took a long stroll through the streets of Seatown along with the recruiting officer this evening. He was in high spirits and very proud of being a soldier, so the sergeant had very little difficulty in keeping him in good humour. Indeed, he stood that officer in good stead once; for encountering a compatriot acquaintance, a likely sort of fellow too, he helped her Majesty's army to a fine recruit. "Here, Larry, ye blackguard," called he, "here's a gentman axing for yez." Larry, a hulking sheepish young Irishman, did not look particularly happy at this information, and replied,-- "And what's to prevent him axing?" "Man dear, and is that the way ye address one of the Quane's foighting men? Spake to him, meejor dear." The "dear meejor" at this point took up the discourse. "Faith," he said, "till I saw Patrick here I thought there wasn't a single boy in the place smart enough to wear a red coat, but I see there's two of ye anyhow." And the sergeant laughed loud and clapped Larry on the back, and told him it was a shame for him to be walking about in boots full of holes, when he might be strutting up and down as fine as any gentleman in the place, to say nothing of regular pay and quarters, and all the chance of glory. And Patrick added his persuasions, and quoted his own example as a great argument. And between them Larry let the shilling drop into his hand, and the three went off to drink her Majesty's health, and then continued their pilgrimage through the streets. At one street corner there was a rush of people, reading a newly-posted bill. Fancy my astonishment as I read:--"£20 reward! Lost yesterday (February 4th), near Seatown Gaol, an old silver watch, of very little value to any one but the owner. A piece of black ribbon was attached. Any one bringing the above to the Reverend James Halliday, at 2, Quay Street, will receive £20 reward." How my heart beat as our party halted in front of this announcement. Alas! my new master was not a scholar, and on satisfying himself the object of the people's assembling was not a fight, he took no further interest in the matter, but shouldered his way past with no more thought of me just at that moment than of the North Pole. That night, as I lay in the dark in my new quarters, I had leisure to think over the strange turn which my fortune had taken. Here I was in a town where three of those whom at some time or other I had called master were living. One was a common prisoner, one a hard-working curate, and one a raw recruit. Of my other masters, one was a London thief, one lay in his grave, and the other, and best loved of all, was far away in scenes and perils which I could not so much as picture to myself. What would become of me? I knew not; but I could not help feeling the best part of my life was spent, for who could be to me again what some of those whom I now remembered had been? I had arrived thus far in my meditations when I all of a sudden turned faint. I knew what the matter was at once, and what did this lump of an Irishman understand about watch-keys and winding up? I called faintly to the watered ribbon-- "I'm running down!" "Down where?" ejaculated he, in well-feigned alarm. "Wretch!" gasped I, "somebody ought to wind me up." "Up where?" again asked my unsympathetic tormentor. "Brute!" was all I could say. "That's just the way with you clever people," began the ribbon; "as long as you are all right no name's bad enough for poor people like us; but as soon as ever you get into trouble--" Here with a groan I ran down, and was spared the end of his speech. I only had a vague, dim idea of what took place for the next few months. I was conscious of long railway journeys, and arriving at a big, dreary-looking sort of prison where there was nothing but soldiers. All day long the place rang with bugle notes and words of command; and all night my master slept in a great room with a lot of noisy men, of whom I have an impression he was not the most silent. In due time he put a coat over the waistcoat in which I lived, and was mightily proud the first time he walked abroad in his new dress. And so things went on for nearly a year. But one day it was evident some great excitement had come to vary the monotony of our barrack life. Officers talked in clusters instead of drilling their men, and the men instead of doing their ordinary work crowded into the long shed to talk over the news. And it soon came out what the news was. The regiment had been ordered to hold itself in readiness for immediate service at the seat of war in India! What excitement there was! What cheers and exultation! What spirits the men were in, and what friends every one became all of a sudden with everybody else! Among the rest my young master's blood rose within him at the thought of fighting. He had grown sick of the dull routine of barrack life, and more than once half repented his easy acceptance of the Queen's shilling, but now he thought of nothing but the wars, and his spirits rose so high that the sergeant on duty had to promise him an arrest before he could be reduced to order. At night the room where we slept was a perfect Babel. Men talked of nothing but the voyage and the campaign that was to follow, and wished the marching orders had been for to-morrow instead of next week. Suddenly (and I don't exactly know why) my master remembered my existence, and I heard him call out,-- "Does any of you boys know anything about a watch, at all?" "Duck Downie does," replied one or two voices. "Duck Downie, me jewil, will ye step this way just?" called out my master, "and cast your eye on my watch?" The gentleman rejoicing in the name of Duck Downie was a ferocious- looking little fellow who had, before he decided to devote his energies to the extermination of her Majesty's foes, been a watchmaker's apprentice. He came, forward at the invitation, and cast his eye in the direction indicated. It was evidently the first time he had known that Paddy so much as owned a watch; for he stared hard at me, and then said with a knowing wink,-- "Did he struggle much?" "Faith and he did a wee bit, Duck, but so did I too, ye see," said Paddy, entering into the joke. "Let's have a look at him," said Duck, taking me and stripping the coat off my back. "Give us the key." "The kay!" said Paddy, whose notions of a watch's interior were delightfully vague; "sure there's no kay. Here, Edward I will ye lend Mister Downie a kay!" The youth addressed as Edward fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the key of his locker, which he handed to my master. "That's the boy! Here's a kay, Duck darlint, since ye want one." Duck was rude enough to laugh immoderately at this--so much so, that my master, who was unconscious of a joke, grew quite angry. "Ef that's all ye can do--gape like an ould money-box--I can do that as well myself; so hand up the watch!" Duck Downie laughed again at this, and then said,-- "I want the key of the watch, puddin'-head, not this thing!" "Arrah, it's got no kay, I tell ye. What ud _it_ want a kay for?" Duck laughed again at this. "Paddy," said he, "next time you borrow a gentleman's watch be sure you ask 'im for the key, do you hear? You want the key to wind the thing up--that's why he don't go." Paddy, who had sense enough to see that Mr Downie knew more about a watch than he did, held his peace, and took no trouble to refute the imputation on the way in which he had come by me. Duck Downie having, with some difficulty, borrowed a watch-key, wound me up, greatly to my delight and that of my master. It was delicious to feel the blood tingling through my veins once more, and to have my heart beat again with renewed animation. My master's glee was only equalled by his astonishment. He looked at first as if he suspected Duck Downie of being in league with supernatural powers; but when that eminent mechanic took the trouble to explain to him the value of the operation he had just performed on me, Paddy without a word rushed out, at the risk of all sorts of penalties, into the town, and knew no peace till he had possessed himself of a "kay," which henceforth became the inseparable companion of me and the watered ribbon. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. HOW I MADE A LONG JOURNEY, AND REACHED THE HAPPIEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE. One morning, in the autumn of the same year, a small cluster of men standing on the deck of the troopship "Lizard," as she tumbled lazily forward over the waves, descried in the far horizon before them a dim low line of blue. My master was one of this cluster, and having recovered from the depression which had afflicted both his spirits and his stomach during the early part of the voyage, now celebrated the "discovery of India" with a cry so outlandish, and other manifestations of joy so extravagant (one of which was pitching one of the sergeants' caps overboard) that he was instantly summoned before the officer in command, and ordered to remain below for the next twelve hours. This was, I need hardly say, a disappointment to both of us. All day long we heard overhead the crowding of footsteps, the clanking of chains, and the banging about of baggage. The men were paraded on deck and one or two servants down where we were were very busy polishing the officers' swords. Altogether it looked as if we were not intended to remain an hour longer in Bombay than was necessary before marching to the front. Indeed, the arrival of a newspaper on board, along with the pilot, created such a ferment among the officers and men that it was evident something unusual had happened since we last heard the news. When, towards evening, my master was allowed once more to come on deck, we were not long in discovering the cause of all this. The Indian Mutiny, which had just broken out when we left England, had suddenly assumed enormous and hideous dimensions. The rebels, taking advantage of their first success, seemed to have gone mad with a most cruel madness. Helpless Englishwomen and children had been massacred and outraged; gallant Englishmen, overpowered by numbers, had been put to shameful deaths. One by one our strongholds had been surprised and captured; and, carrying all before them, the traitors bade fair to leave England not so much as a foothold in India. This was enough to make the blood of the tamest among us boil with indignation, and, as the dreadful truth, bit by bit, dawned on our gallant fellows, their impatience became almost beyond control. My master was in sad peril of another arrest by reason of his excitement. "Show me the spalpeens! Show me 'em!" roared he, almost beside himself. "Let me at 'em, Duck, ye blackguard; let me at 'em!" And so saying he seized Mr Downie, who happened to be standing near him, and nearly shook the bones out of that unoffending hero's body. "Do ye hear?" roared Paddy, quite out of his senses. "I hear," said Downie, coolly, proceeding to take off his coat and tuck up his shirt-sleeves as if he were going to wash his hands. "What's the gossoon about at all?" cried my master, taken aback by this unexpected reply to his question. "On'y going to smash you!" calmly replied the imperturbable Duck, beginning to spar--"so come on, my lad!" That Patrick would have joyfully accepted the invitation I have no doubt, had not an accident at that moment befallen him. A trolly coming up behind, took him off his feet. To recover himself, he took a spring forward, and landed full on the top of the junior ensign of the regiment, a mild youth with a very little voice, and for the next minute the two were rolling, one on the top of the other, over and over, along the wet deck, amid the laughter of everybody. By the time Paddy had picked himself up, and helped the poor young ensign to his feet, his ardour was sufficiently damped. He apologised with as good grace as he could to his late victim, and made very humble excuses to the sergeant in charge, who, fortunately for him, had witnessed that the affair was an accident. Duck Downie, however, with his coat off and his sleeves tucked up, still awaited his man as if nothing had happened, and seemed surprised that Paddy was not as eager as before for the fray. The latter, however, quite sobered by this time, merely cried out in the hearing of everybody,-- "Arrah! Downie, darlint, ye may put on your coat, because I forgive you this onst; but, man dear, don't do it again!" and was thereby considered by everybody to have had the best of the whole adventure. Under such dignified circumstances did we set foot on Indian soil. The reader will be surprised that I have never yet remembered that when I last heard of him, Charlie, my first master, was in India. I did remember it often and often--during the voyage and after landing. And yet I quite despised myself for imagining (as I did) that the next white face I saw would surely be his. India is a big place--a dreadfully big place--and the chances of finding any one particular person there are about as great as of discovering a needle in a haystack. He might have left India long ago; he might have fallen in the massacres of the past few months; he might be somewhere right across the continent. And so, though I could not get rid of a vague sort of expectation, during the first few days of my being in India, I always laughed at myself for a simpleton for thinking such a chance possible. However, we had no time for thinking just then. From the moment we landed in Bombay, and for a week or two afterwards, we were continually on the move. Long forced marches under a broiling sun, it was enough to wear out any ordinary troops. But our men, and the column to which they were now attached, formed no ordinary body of men. They were Englishmen hastening to the rescue, and nothing on earth could stop them. It was strange how slowly the news of those stirring times came to our ears. One day we heard with a horror that I can never describe of that foul massacre at Cawnpore, where in cold blood gentle English ladies and innocent children had been brutally massacred, and their bodies flung into a well. Then the news came of the achievements of that wonderful army of relief led by Havelock. Day after day came the news of his march on Lucknow, where our besieged fellow-countrymen lay. Every one knows of that heroic march. Inch by inch, almost, that handful of men fought their way, fighting a battle a day, and never yielding a step. One day a horseman galloped into our camp in a great state of excitement. As he flung himself from his horse he shouted something, but we only caught the two words, "Havelock," "Lucknow." It was enough. Lucknow was saved! There rose cheer upon cheer at the news, and shout upon shout. Men and officers alike waved their hats and shook hands, Paddy, as usual, let his feelings get the better of him, and nearly broke Larry's spine with the joyful thump he gave it; indeed, it is safe to say our men were almost as proud as if they had themselves achieved the relief. Presently, however, there spread a rumour that though Lucknow was saved, it was not yet relieved. Havelock had fought his way in, but until help arrived, he, too, would be a prisoner within its walls; and almost in the same breath came the grand news; our column was the one destined for this glorious work! How our hearts beat! What mattered it now how long the marches were, and how grilling the sun? "Lucknow" was the cry; and that magic word sustained us in every hardship and peril. We reached Cawnpore at last, and there joined Sir Colin Campbell's force. The sight of this house of murder was simply maddening to the men. They left the place next morning with a sort of shudder, and set their faces towards Lucknow. It was not till we were well on the march that I had leisure to look about me and notice how our force was increased. Several now regiments were with us, and the commander-in-chief and his staff and heavy guns and siege trains accompanied the march. With the exception of a few skirmishes, my master had yet to learn what a battle was. We crept on, halting sometimes, and sometimes pushing on, until one jubilant afternoon the distant walls of Lucknow appeared in sight. Then indeed our brave fellows began to breathe again. To-morrow would bring them to the city walls, and--what was equally after their hearts--face to face with the enemy. We bivouacked here for the night. Now it happened on this particular night that my master was on sentinel duty for the first time in his life, and mightily proud of his charge. There he stood as stiff as a poker, with his rifle at his side, and I verily believe would have thought nothing of running his bayonet through the body of the commander-in-chief if he had presented himself without the password. Patrick was not a dreamer; and as he looked across in the direction of Lucknow I don't suppose his meditations were of the loftiest kind. He knew there would be a fight to-morrow, and so he was happy; he knew duty might call him to action even to-night, and so he kept a very sharp look-out at his post; but otherwise his mind was profoundly untroubled. It was not so with me. On the eve of the battle I could not but feel that in a few hours I might be ownerless, and in a dead man's pocket; and, as I looked back upon my strangely eventful life, I sighed, and half hoped, if he were slain, they would in mercy bury me with him, and so end my cares once and for all. Little I knew! It was scarcely ten o'clock when Paddy was startled by approaching footsteps. They belonged to an officer of our force who was returning at this hour from an outpost. Paddy eyed him suspiciously, and even when he gave the word looked disappointed at not having the privilege of using his bayonet upon him. Just as he was going on his way, the officer turned and said, in a voice which startled me,-- "Is it ten yet, my man?" Why did the voice startle me? I could not see the speaker's face, but as he spoke I fancied myself back in the Randlebury schoolroom, and my memory saw a bright-eyed boy I had known once whom I could almost have believed to be the speaker of these few words. Strange what fancies take possession of one! Patrick, as he _had_ a watch, and had by this time learned the mysterious art of telling the time, was not the man to answer such a question as this at random. "Hould my gun, cap'n," he said, "till I sthrike a light." Fancy a sentinel asking an officer to hold his gun! I knew enough of military discipline to make me tremble at the thought of what would become of my unceremonious master. But the officer, instead of flying into a rage, took the rifle and laughed. That laugh reminded me more than ever of Randlebury. "You're a pretty fellow," he said. "Is that the manners they teach you at home." "I axe yer pardon, colonel, but--" Here the officer laughed again--and oh! how my heart beat as I heard him. "If I stay here much longer I shall get promoted to general, I suppose," said he. "Look sharp and tell me the time." Patrick, without another word, produced a light. The officer's face was half turned as he did so, and I could not catch his features, but as he turned impatiently towards the sentinel the light fell full upon it, and with a bound of astonishment I recognised in the swarthy, soldierly officer before me, no other than my oldest and dearest master, Charlie Newcome, of Randlebury. The strange presentiment, then, was true--I had found him after so long a time! But what if he should not see me? What torment to be so near and yet so far! And how was it likely he would take notice of a common private's watch, and if he did, how was it likely at this distance of time he would remember poor me? Jim, I know, had told him of the strange way in which I had come into his hands, and would certainly have also told him about losing me. He must, therefore, long ago have given up all thoughts about me, or if he ever remembered me it would be as one dead. My master took me out and held me up to the light. "It'll be about five minutes past ten, your honour, by my watch." "Thank you. Good--hullo?" He had seen me! His eyes were suddenly riveted upon me, and he seemed glued to the spot where he stood. "Did your honour plaze to spake?" asked Paddy, proceeding to put me back into his pocket. "My old watch!" cried Charlie, springing forward, and catching hold of my master's hand. "Give it to me!" Paddy's surprise was unbounded. At first he deemed the man mad, then drunk, then gradually it dawned upon him this was not an officer at all, but a highwayman in disguise, seeking to take advantage of his solitude to rob him. In an instant he sprang back, and, seizing his rifle, levelled the bayonet to within an inch of Charlie's heart. "Now, ye thievin' blackguard," said he, "move an inch and I'll stick ye like a pig. Arrah! but ye came to the wrong boy when ye thought to play your tricks on me! Stan' still now, or as sure as you're alive you're a dead man;" and he gave Charlie a suggestive touch with the point of his weapon, which showed plainly he had every intention of being as good as his word. Here was a predicament! and I could do nothing to help. Charlie, fairly penned in a corner, was at a loss what to say or do. He began in an angry strain,-- "Don't be a fool, sir; do you--" "Howld yer tongue!" roared Paddy, giving another poke with his bayonet. Then Charlie attempted to laugh, which enraged the sentry all the more. "Is it mock me, ye would, as well as rob me, ye foul-mouthed spalpeen, you?" he cried. "I don't want to rob you," put in Charlie. "Faith and I'll see ye don't," retorted the Irishman. "Listen to me an instant," besought Charlie. "The sorra a word. Ye shall say it all before the gineral the morrow, for there I'll take ye." For some moments Charlie stood in this awkward fix, not daring to stir, or even to speak, and with every prospect of spending the night with a bayonet point within an inch of his body. Suddenly, however, a brilliant idea occurred to him. If I really was his old watch, as he fancied, this man had possibly found me where Halliday had lost me. It was a bare chance every way, but he determined to try it. "So you are from Seatown!" he suddenly exclaimed. The rifle literally dropped from the astonished sentry's hand. "Who told ye that?" he almost shrieked. "Never mind," said Charlie, following up the advantage, and softly stepping out of his corner. "It's two years since you left, isn't it?" Patrick was "dumfoundered." This man must be in league, surely, with the powers of darkness! "_Now_ do you know why I want that watch?" said Charlie sternly, at the same time quietly picking up the dropped rifle. The tables were fairly turned now. The wretched Patrick, whose conscience had more than once smitten him about the way in which he had become possessed of me, looked the picture of terror--not at the bayonet, but at the man who held it. He drew me from his pocket with trembling hands, and holding me out at arm's length, cried,-- "Arrah, arrah! take him, gineral, take him. How was I to know you was the gentleman dropped him there? Who'd have--" By this time Charlie had seized me and taken me to the light. In an instant he stripped me of my coat, and there, with bounding heart, read his own initials, scratched years ago with his own boyish hand, in the dormitory of Randlebury. "It _is_ it!" he shouted; "my old watch! Who would have thought it possible!" Then turning to the trembling Paddy, he said, in a voice almost unsteady in its eagerness,-- "My man, what will you sell me this watch for?" Paddy looked more astonished than ever. "Sure it's your honour's own." "It was once, but it's yours now. But I'll give you a ten-pound note for him and a gold watch besides if you'll let me have him back." Imagine Paddy's astonishment. "Sure Duck Downie says it's not worth thirty shillings--" "Who cares for Duck Downie?" shouted Charlie, pulling out his purse. "Here's the money, and if you come to Lieutenant Newcome's tent when you are off duty you shall have the watch." And so saying, and not waiting for another word, he darted off, with me still in his hands, leaving Paddy fairly stupefied with amazement, and with only presence of mind enough left to pick up his rifle and make a royal salute to the retreating form of my first and last and dearest master. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. HOW I SAVED MY MASTER'S LIFE, AND RETIRED FROM ACTIVE SERVICE. I may with truth say, I reached that night the happiest moment in my life. Indeed, as the young officer walked on, with me held tight in his hand, it would be hard to say which of us two was the happier. Charlie's soldier life had not turned out as happily as, long ago, he had pictured it to himself. Away from home, and with comparatively few friends, he had felt himself losing somewhat of his freshness and boyish enthusiasm, and settling down rather to habits of a humdrum commonplace official. Books he had very few, and congenial society still less. Quartered as he had been during the first two years in dull country stations, he had grown weary of the routine of everyday life, and longed for the sight of fresh faces, fresh scenes, fresh occupation. After a while this desire was gratified in his removal to Calcutta. But if he had suffered from dulness and weariness before, he was now in danger of going to another extreme. In his first joy at getting back into lively society he rushed with ardour into all the attractions and gaieties of the capital. Not that Charlie was a fellow ever to make the same mistakes as Tom Drift. He never associated with companions he knew to be bad, or allowed himself to be led into scenes which were in the slightest degree discreditable. But he did enter rather too readily into the frivolities of his new quarters, at the expense of his peace of mind. His popularity was his greatest snare. Everywhere he went he became a favourite. People were eager to get him to join their parties, and he was often enough too good-natured to refuse. And thus Charlie wasted much of his time, and in the end found himself far more dissatisfied with himself than in the quiet monotony of his up-country duties. Do not let me do him injustice, reader, in my account of him during those few weeks at Calcutta. He was gay but not fast, frivolous though not dissipated. His errors were errors of unprofitableness, but never of viciousness. Even in his most frivolous moments he had never been anything but a gentleman and a good fellow. Still, it had been unsatisfactory, and he knew it to be so in his inmost soul. In the midst of this life came the mutiny, and, like hundreds of others, Charlie leapt at the call of duty, and flung to the winds all those attractions which had held him captive during the weeks of his idleness. Like hundreds of others his blood boiled at the tragedies of that awful time, and now, of all the rescuing host, there was not one who loved his own life less, or his country's glory more, than Charlie Newcome. And thus it was with him when I found him. But to-night, whatever may have been the memories, and hopes, and regrets which secretly animated his breast in finding himself again possessed of his boyish treasure and the companion of so many of his happiest days, Charlie Newcome had no leisure to sit down and spend his time in passive contemplation. He had a report to make to his colonel, and an important despatch to carry to the commander-in-chief. Then there was the ammunition to be served out among his men, and he had to superintend the process. And there were the plans for next day's assault to be talked over with his brother officers, and the various detachments for that duty to be selected. So that Charlie was a busy man that night. But with what a light heart he laboured! Among his occupations he did not forget the gold watch, but had the satisfaction of making Paddy the happiest man (but one) in the camp. Thus, first with one thing, then another, the night wore on; and, when towards morning he lay down on his camp bed for a hurried rest, he fell asleep like a child, whistling one of the old Randlebury songs, and with me, as of old, under his pillow. At the first note of the bugle he sprang from his couch, and putting me in my old abode, next his heart, sallied out to see the preparations for the advance. It was generally known we were to make a dash for the approaches to Lucknow this day; and at the prospect of the attack the troops hailed the signal to get under arms with enthusiasm. It was plain to see, by the alacrity with which the men worked, that my master was a prime favourite in his own company; indeed, such was their promptitude that we stood ready and waiting long before the order to march arrived. During this interval, if Charlie was seized with a desire to know the time once, he was seized twenty times; and each time a mere glance was not enough to satisfy him. How natural it all seemed, and how like old times! Then came the longed-for signal, and with a cheer the men set their faces towards Lucknow. Now, the reader must not expect I am going to describe military operations for his edification. I know nothing about columns and countermarches, and echelons and skirmishing; how could a watch, hid under a scarlet jacket, be expected to do so? True, I had eyes that could penetrate any number of scarlet jackets, but what good was that when I knew about as much of the art of war as I did of candle-making! But there are some things in the events of that memorable day which I shall remember as long as I live. After about an hour's march we were suddenly halted, and almost at the same moment there came the sullen boom of a gun ahead. I could feel Charlie's heart leap at the sound. It was the enemy at last; and now the fate of Lucknow was to be decided. A horseman dashed up to the head of our column and called out to our colonel, in a voice loud enough for us all to hear, "Bring up your battalion." Next moment we were advancing in double quick time through a lane of troops to the front. There two other regiments stood waiting, and almost the instant we arrived the whole body moved forward at a run. It was an exciting moment. The enemy's guns sounded louder and more frequent ahead, and dropping shot at either side announced that our danger was not all in front. The pace was kept up for a hundred yards or so, until we reached a cluster of trees, in whose shelter the column was halted to get breath. The fire in front still kept up, and through the smoke I thought I could discern the dim outline of a low building, not five hundred yards distant. At this moment Charlie and the other officers were summoned to the front for orders. They were brief and to the point. "Straight for the fort, there!" said the commanding officer, "the shortest way you can take your men!" It was an order that meant certain death to scores of those brave fellows; yet when they had heard it they cheered as schoolboys cheer for a holiday. Again we stood waiting. The officers with their swords drawn stepped in front. The men quickly loaded and fixed bayonets, and then came the shout,-- "Forward!" As we cleared the trees we burst full in the face of the enemy's fire. For a moment the balls whizzed harmlessly over our heads, then there was a crash on the ground before us, and, as we rushed on, the men parted on either side to avoid stepping over a dying man. It was awful; and every step we took grew more and more fatal. Under that withering fire men went down by the dozen; yet still the column rushed on. The front rank broke into gaps, which the rear rank men dashed forward to fill, till they themselves fell. And still on we rushed. Officers, too, everywhere to the front, dropped one by one; but still we never checked our pace. The sullen walls of the fort stood clear before us and poured upon us an unceasing shower of bullet and ball. In a minute our foremost men would be at the walls. "Forward now! follow me!" I heard Charlie cry; and looking round noticed for the first time that the captain of his company was missing. The men cheered by way of answer, and their run broke into a rush as they followed him under the guns. Others were at the fort before us, and the storm had already begun. Heedless of wounds, heedless of peril, the men swept towards the breach, and called on those behind to come on. Charlie was one of the earliest of our battalion there, and already his feet were in the place, and he was waving to his men to come up when-- I felt a dull crushing sensation. My nerves collapsed; my senses left me. Speech, sight, hearing, all failed me in an instant; a strange darkness came over me, and then I was conscious of nothing. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ When my senses slowly and wearily recovered I was still lying in my master's pocket in the place where he had fallen at the storming of the breach. Firing was still going on all around, but the shouts of our men rose now from inside the fort instead of outside. And what shouting it was! The enemy's guns ceased as if by magic, and the distant sounds of firing showed plainly enough that the main body, now that we had silenced the fort, was resuming its march on Lucknow. All this flashed through me as my senses gradually returned, and before even I had time to contemplate my own condition. What a wreck I was! A helpless cripple past all healing, of no use to any one, and utterly incapable of resuming the ordinary duties of life. But almost before I could realise this, another care flashed through my mind and drove out every other. My master! What of him? There he lay, motionless and pale, with his blue eyes closed, and a little stream of blood trickling down his chest. Could he be dead? Anxiously I listened if his heart still beat. At first all seemed silent as death. Then there seemed a slight quiver, and as I listened still, a faint throb. He lived still! How I longed for help to come! And before long it came. Two soldiers of Charlie's regiment came out of the fort and walked straight towards us. "It was close to the breach he dropped," said one. "Come on, then," said the other, "and we may be in time." They were not long in finding the object of their search, and leant eagerly over him. "He's dead, poor fellow!" said the first; "shot right through the heart!" "So he is," said the other. "It must have--wait a bit!" cried he, in sudden excitement. "Feel here, Tom, quick! he's alive yet! Oh, if we could only get hold of a doctor!" "Is there one about at all?" "Not that I know of, unless the Major knows what to do." Just then there came up a gaunt man, in an undress uniform, who, seeing that they knelt over a wounded man, said,-- "Is he alive?" "It's all he is, sir," replied one of the men; "and we're wondering how to get a doctor to him." "Let me see," said the stranger, approaching the body. He knelt beside it and gently removed the coat from the wound. "It looks as if he must be shot through the heart. Stay a bit, though, here's a watch!" and he pulled me softly out of the pocket. As he did so I looked up at him. Surely I knew his face! Surely somewhere I had seen that troubled frightened face before! Then I remembered Seatown Gaol! Could this be Tom Drift here in India, and kneeling beside his old schoolfellow's body? It was indeed Tom Drift! But he neither recognised me nor the wounded man before him; indeed he was too busy examining the latter's wound to look very closely at his face. As he removed the waistcoat he uttered an exclamation of astonishment. "A most wonderful thing," he said; "the bullet, which must have been a spent one, has struck his watch and turned aside. A most wonderful escape!" And then he produced a box of instruments, with one of which he probed the wound, and after some trouble extracted the bullet. Then, bandaging up the place, he said,-- "He may do now, but he has lost a lot of blood. Let him lie here a bit, and presently, if he seems better, move him into the fort. I will see him again this evening." And so saying, he passed on to the next prostrate figure. Towards evening the two men tenderly lifted their officer in their arms and carried him inside the fort, where a rude hospital had been fitted up. Here Charlie, who, after the extraction of the bullet and staunching of blood, had shown symptoms of recovery, opened his eyes, and found himself able to say a few words to those round him. And when they told him how I had probably saved his life his face lit up with a most triumphant smile, and he asked that I might be put into his hand. As he lay there, scarcely strong enough to speak, and fondling me in his fingers, the doctor entered the hospital. He came straight to Charlie's bed. My master's eyes were closed when Tom first reached his side; and I could see by the face of the latter that he was still as far from recognising his old schoolfellow as ever. But directly Tom softly lifted the clothes in order to examine his wound, the patient woke and opened his eyes. They rested for a moment on the doctor's face, and then, with a sudden flush and start, he half raised himself in his bed, and exclaimed,-- "Tom Drift, is it you?" The doctor thus unexpectedly hearing his own name pronounced, turned pale, and started back as if he had been shot. The scared, terrified look returned to his face, and for an instant he seemed as if he would rush from the place. But only for an instant. As he looked again on the face of his patient a strange expression came over his own. Wonder, doubt, joy, succeeded each other in rapid succession, and then all of a sudden it flashed upon him who this was. "Charlie!" he exclaimed, trembling with astonishment; and next moment the poor prodigal was on his knees beside his friend's bed, sobbing, with his head buried in his hands. Don't laugh at him, reader, for thus forgetting himself. Tom Drift had been through many trials you know nothing about, and out of those trials he had come broken in spirit and as humble as a child. _You_ might have had more regard for appearances, perhaps, and controlled your emotion genteelly; but, as I have said before, Tom Drift was not anything like so strong-minded as you. So he knelt there and sobbed; and Charlie, as he lay, took his hand into his own, and held it. Presently he said, softly, "Tom!" Tom looked up and rose to his feet. "What, old fellow?" "Look here, Tom!" said Charlie, showing me. At the sight of me, bruised and battered as I was, Tom's feelings overcame him again. He seized me eagerly, and looked long and tenderly into my face; then his tears came again, and once more he sunk on his knees at Charlie's side and buried his face in his hands. The place was getting dark. The noise of voices outside and the distant roar of guns slowly died away; the guards for the night were called out, and one by one soldier and invalid fell asleep after their hard day's toil. But Tom Drift never moved from Charlie's bedside, nor did Charlie, by word or movement, disturb him. In the silence of that night I seemed to be back in the past--when, years ago, I first knew these two. The dreary hospital changed, in my imagination, into the old Randlebury dormitory. These beds all round were occupied not by wounded soldiers, but by soundly-sleeping boys, worn out with sports or study. And the two between whom I lay were no longer suffering men, but the light-hearted lads of long ago. I could almost fancy myself ticking through the silent watches; and when now and then the fingers that held me closed over me, or fondled me tenderly, I could almost have believed I heard the low sweet whistling of an innocent boy as he furtively turned in his waking moments to his father's precious gift. It all seemed so strangely natural that as I woke from my dream it required an effort to remember where I really was. All was silent around me. I peered first at my master, then at Tom Drift; they were both asleep--sleeping, perhaps, as simply as ever they did in those bygone days--Tom kneeling still by the bedside with his head upon his arms, and Charlie turned towards him with one hand upon his friend's, and I--I lay between them. Thus the sultry Indian night passed, and then at the little window opposite there came a faint gleam of light. Charlie woke first, and, laying his hand gently on Tom's arm, said, "Tom Drift, old fellow!" With a start and a bound Tom was awake and on his feet, staring in a bewildered way round him. At last his eyes fell on Charlie, and he remembered where he was. "I was asleep and dreaming," he said. "So was I," said Charlie--and _I_ could almost guess what their dreams had been. "Now, Tom," said Charlie, "you must look to my wound." "My poor boy!" exclaimed Tom; "to think I have forgotten it all this time!" "It's not worth bothering about, after all," said my master, "But see, Tom, the day is breaking." "Ay!" said Tom, looking down with a new light in his weary eyes, "the day _is_ breaking!" CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. WHICH BRINGS MY ADVENTURES TO A CLOSE. Reader, be my companion in one scene more, and my story is done. A month or two ago there was a grand merrymaking at the house of one Charles Newcome, Esquire, late captain in her Majesty's army, to celebrate the tenth birthday of his son, Master Thomas James Newcome. The company was mostly juvenile, and included, of course, the gallant captain's two little girls and his younger son, that most terrible of all Turks, Charlie the younger. Then there were all the little boys and girls living in the square, and many others from a distance, and one or two big boys and girls, and one or two young gentlemen who stroked their chins as if something was to be felt there, and one or two young ladies who would not take twice of sponge-cake, for fear of looking as if they were hungry. But besides these there were a few grown-up people present, whom I must not forget to name. Naturally the gallant captain was one, and the gallant captain's lady was another; and then there were the last-named lady's two brothers there, one a clergyman called the Reverend James Halliday, and the other (and elder) Mr Joseph Halliday, a civil engineer with a ferocious pair of whiskers. And, to complete the party, there was present a grave, anxious-looking gentleman by the name of Mr Drift, a surgeon. These all sat apart and looked on while the young folk enjoyed themselves. And how the young folk did enjoy themselves that night! What shouting and laughter there was, what a jingling of the piano, what hiding in corners, what romping on the stair case! And the round games, and the charades, and the family posts! Oh dear me, I'm an old watch, and I've gone through a good many noisy scenes, but I never remember such a racket as this. And how the young folk besieged the elder and compelled them to join in the fun. There was papa down on his hands and knees with half-a-dozen youngsters on his back. And there was Uncle Joseph performing tricks of conjuring before a select audience; and Mr Drift telling stories to another; and as for the reverend Uncle Jim, he was made blind man, and had his long coat-tails pulled; and, strange to say, he never caught anybody all the time. And then the supper! who shall describe that? the clattering of dishes, the rattle of knives and forks, the banging of crackers, the peals of laughter, and the cross-fire of chaff. Alas! all good things must come to an end, and so did this party. One by one the little guests said good-bye, and after they had gone the little family of children and elders was left alone. Though it was past eleven, the little urchin Charlie insisted on clambering on to Mr Drift's knee, to hear one last story, and the little girls besieged their uncles, and put their arms round their necks, and besought their intercession with mamma to gain them another half-hour's respite down stairs. "Charlie," said Tom Drift, "this little fellow is worrying me for a story. Suppose you tell one." "Oh yes," shouted that small chorus. "Oh yes! papa, please tell us a story?" "Hear, hear!" said Uncle Joe. "Fire away," said Uncle Jim. "Remember, it must be quite a short one, Charles," said mamma. Charlie Newcome the elder looked puzzled for a minute, and fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. Then he turned to his eldest boy, and said,-- "Tom, open that cabinet there and bring me the watch that is under the glass-case." "The old, ugly watch, papa?" asked the boy, running off on his errand. "Yes, the old, ugly watch," said papa, with a queer sort of smile. The boy brought me. I was taken out of my case, and lay there in his open hand. "Once upon a time," began papa--and what a hush fell on that little company!--"once upon a time there was a little boy,"--why was it everyone but the children looked so grave? and why did Mr Drift push his chair back into the shadow? why, even, did papa's voice tremble now and then as he went on, and caught the eye first of one and then another of his listeners? That night he told my story--not as I have told it to you. There was not much about Mr Drift in the story he told, and a great deal less about himself than there might have been. But as he went on these children crowded round me and looked with awe upon my battered body, and read with reverence those quaintly-scratched initials, and as they followed me in imagination from one master to another, and from one peril to the next, ending up with the famous battle before Lucknow, they forgot I was old and ugly, and I gradually appeared to their little eyes one of the greatest treasures which their father's house contained. "And here he lies in my hand, children," concluded papa; "and if you love him as much as I do you must be very fond of him. And now, good- night, all of you." THE END.