[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all other inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling has been maintained.]

THE BUILDING OF A BOOK

A SERIES OF PRACTICAL ARTICLES
WRITTEN BY EXPERTS IN THE VARIOUS
DEPARTMENTS OF BOOK MAKING AND DISTRIBUTING

WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY THEODORE L. DE VINNE

EDITED BY
FREDERICK H. HITCHCOCK

THE GRAFTON PRESS
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Dedicated
TO READERS AND LOVERS
OF BOOKS THROUGHOUT
THE COUNTRY

FOREWORD

"The Building of a Book" had its origin in the wish to give practical, non-technical information to readers and lovers of books. I hope it will also be interesting and valuable to those persons who are actually engaged in book making and selling.

All of the contributors are experts in their respective departments, and hence write with authority. I am exceedingly grateful to them for their very generous efforts to make the book a success.

THE EDITOR.

ARTICLES AND CONTRIBUTORS

[Introduction]
By Theodore L. De Vinne, of Theodore L. De Vinne & Company, Printers, New York.
[The Author]
By George W. Cable, Author of "Grandissimes," "The Cavalier," and other books. Resident of Northampton, Massachusetts.
[The Literary Agent]
By Paul R. Reynolds, Literary Agent, New York, representing several English publishing houses and American authors.
[The Literary Adviser]
By Francis W. Halsey, formerly Editor of the New York Times Saturday Review of Books, and literary adviser for D. Appleton & Company. Now literary adviser for Funk & Wagnalls Company, New York.
[The Manufacturing Department]
By Lawton L. Walton, in charge of the manufacturing department of The Macmillan Company, Publishers, New York.
[The Making of Type]
By L. Boyd Benton, Mechanical Manager of the Jersey City factory of the American Type Founders' Company.
[Hand Composition and Electrotyping]
By J. Stearns Cushing, of J. S. Cushing & Company, Norwood, Massachusetts, one of the three concerns forming the Norwood Press.
[Composition by the Linotype Machine]
By Frederick J. Warburton, Treasurer of the Mergenthaler Linotype Machine Company.
[Composition by the Monotype Machine]
By Paul Nathan, a member of Wood & Nathan, New York, selling agents for the Lanston Monotype Machine.
[Proof-reading]
By George L. Miller, with the Charles Francis Press, New York.
[Paper Making]
By Herbert W. Mason, of S. D. Warren & Company, Paper Makers, Boston, Massachusetts.
[Presswork]
By Walter J. Berwick, of Berwick & Smith Company, Norwood, Massachusetts, one of the three concerns constituting the Norwood Press.
[The Printing Press]
By Otto L. Raabe, with R. Hoe & Company, New York, Printing Press Manufacturers.
[Printing Ink]
By James A. Ullman, of Sigmund Ullman Company, Ink Makers, New York.
[The Printer's Roller]
By Albert S. Burlingham, President of the National Roller Company, New York.
[The Illustrator]
By Charles D. Williams, Artist, New York.
[Half-tone, Line, and Color Plates]
By Emlyn M. Gill, President of the Gill Engraving Company, New York.
[The Wax Process]
By Robert D. Servoss, Engraver of maps, etc., by the wax process, New York.
[Making Intaglio Plates]
By Elmer Latham, Manager of the mechanical department of M. Kramer & Company, Photogravure Makers, Brooklyn, New York.
[Printing Intaglio Plates]
By George W. H. Ritchie, Printer of photogravure plates, etchings, etc., New York.
[The Gelatine Process]
By Emil Jacobi, Manager of the factory of the Campbell Art Company, New York, and Elizabeth, New Jersey.
[Lithography]
By Charles Wilhelms, late of Sackett-Wilhelms Lithographing and Printing Company, Brooklyn, New York.
[Cover Designing]
By Amy Richards, Artist, New York, her specialty being cover designs.
[The Cover Stamps]
By George Becker, of Becker Brothers Company, Die Cutters, New York.
[Book Cloths]
By Henry P. Kendall, of the Holliston Mills, Book Cloth Manufacturers, Norwood, Massachusetts.
[Book Leathers]
By Ellery C. Bartlett, of Louis Dejonge & Company, Dressers and Importers of Book Leathers, New York.
[The Binding]
By Jesse Fellowes Tapley, President of J. F. Tapley Company, Binders, New York.
[Special Bindings]
By Henry Blackwell, Fine Binder, New York.
[Copyrighting]
By Frederick H. Hitchcock, Member of the New York Bar; President of The Grafton Press, Publishers, New York.
[Publicity]
By Vivian Burnett, formerly in charge of the Publicity Department of McClure, Phillips & Company, Publishers, New York.
[Reviewing and Criticising]
By Walter Littlefield, a Member of the Staff of the New York Times Saturday Review of Books, and literary correspondent of the Chicago Record-Herald, and other papers.
[The Travelling Salesman]
By Harry A. Thompson, formerly representing John Lane, and Small, Maynard & Company, Publishers. Now one of the Associate Editors of the Saturday Evening Post, Philadelphia.
[Selling at Wholesale]
By Joseph E. Bray, formerly with A. C. McClurg & Company, Wholesalers, Chicago. Now with the Outing Publishing Company, New York.
[Selling at Retail]
By Warren Snyder, Manager of the Book Stores of John Wanamaker, Philadelphia and New York.
[Selling by Subscription]
By Charles S. Olcott, Manager of the Subscription Department of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Company, New York.
[Selling at Auction]
By John Anderson, Jr., President of the Anderson Auction Company, New York.
[Selecting for a Public Library]
By Arthur E. Bostwick, Chief of the Circulation Department of the New York Public Library.
[Rare and Second-hand Books]
By Charles E. Goodspeed, Dealer in Rare and Second-hand Books, Boston.

THE BUILDING OF A BOOK

INTRODUCTION
By Theodore L. De Vinne

To the hasty observer printing seems the simplest of arts or crafts. The small boy who has been taught to spell can readily arrange lettered blocks of wood in readable words, and that arrangement is rated by many as the great feature of printing. With his toy printing-press he can stamp paper upon inked type in so deft a manner that admiring friends may say the print is good enough for anybody. The elementary processes of printing are indeed so simple that they might have justified Dogberry in adding typography to the accomplishments of the "reading and writing that come by nature." With this delusion comes the desire for amateur performance. Men who would not undertake to make a coat or a pair of shoes are confident of their ability to make or to direct the making of a book.

In real practice this apparent simplicity disappears. Commercial printing is never done quickly or cheaply by amateur methods. The printing-house that undertakes to print miscellaneous books for publishers must be provided with tons of type of different faces and sizes. It needs type-making and type-setting machines of great complexity, printing-presses of great size and cost, and much curious machinery in the departments of electrotyping and bookbinding; but these machines, intended to relieve the drudgery of monotonous manual labor, do not supplant the necessity for a higher skill in craftsmanship. They really make that craftsmanship more difficult.

The difficulty of good book-making is greater now than ever. Improvements made during the last century in processes of engraving and the making of ink and paper and the increasing exactions of critical readers and reviewers, compel a closer attention to the petty detail of manufacture. The novice soon finds that some of the methods recently introduced are incompatible with other methods. For the production of a superior book practical experience and theoretical study of all processes are needed to harmonize their antagonisms. One has but to read over the headlines of the foregoing table of contents to note how many different arts, crafts, and sciences are required in the construction of a well-made book. A reading of these articles makes one understand the scope and limitations of each art and the necessity for its proper adjustment in its relation to the workmanship of other crafts with which it may be associated.

For this purpose this book has been prepared. It is believed that a compilation of the experience of men eminent in their respective departments will be a useful guide to the amateur in authorship or the novice in publication.[Back to Contents]

THE AUTHOR
By George W. Cable

In a certain fine and true sense books of imaginative writing—and the present writer cannot undertake to speak of any others—are not built, but born. Nevertheless, there has always been an unlucky tendency on the part both of writers and readers to overstate this non-mechanical nature of poetic works, whether in prose or verse, and to give the processes of this production that air of mystery—not to say miracle—in which art is always tempted to veil its methods. There is an anatomy of the book, which is not its life, but is just as real as its life, and only less essential. There is an architecture awaiting the book while it is still in its author's brain; and for want of due regard to this architecture's laws, for want of a sound and shapely anatomy, many a book misses the success—not commercial only, but spiritual as well—which the amount of toil and talent spent on it ought to earn. And now that reading has become so democratic that the fortunes of a book of the imagination are largely in the hands of the Crowd, which cares nothing and feels nothing as to grace of form and tone in what it reads, the commercial risk in the physical deformities of a book is not so great as the risk of its spiritual failure. Now, too, that the magazines have made it so very desirable to the author that his work should be printed first in them, their mechanical limitations, which are legion, bear upon the author and often seem to him (and his personal friends) to bear cruelly. This difficulty is not a flattering or gentle discipline, nor are its discriminations always good or always bad. It works almost as crudely as that of the stage works on the theatrical dramatist. A cunning subservience to it covers a multitude of sins, and often achieves for the literary craftsman place and preference over the truer artist, if he overlooks the need of being also a craftsman. Yet it is the hard demand, not of the magazines alone, but of every highest interest, that the cure for this injustice be found in the truest artist making himself also the cunningest craftsman. "He that would be first among you let him be the servant of all."

Well, then, what are some of these mechanical rules of construction? The space here allowed—see there, for instance!—gives room for but a hint or two; but, first of all, an author should know before the actual constructure of his creation begins to rise, how long it is to be. Of course he would like to say he cannot tell; that he is in the hands of his muse, and all that; but the truth is, his "artistic temperament" is trying to shirk the drudgery of the engineering problem involved. It is far better for him as an artist that he should thoroughly solve that problem; it will take time and labor, but it need not waste them. The length of his work will, or should, depend upon the breadth of it; by which we mean that a certain fulness of treatment involves a certain length. For instance, one cannot reasonably hope to keep a story short if it is about several persons and involves a conflict of their characters or fates. That is the second necessity; the length must be planned in proportion to the breadth. But, thirdly, both length and breadth should be governed by the importance, the dignity, the substantial value, the business, the substance, the spiritual stuff, of which the projected book is to consist. Hence the writer of true literary conscience will put the first, as above named, last, and the last first: spiritual substance, then breadth, then length.

In order to make fairly sure of these essentials, as well as for other reasons, the author should have a clear determination of all the main features of the structure he proposes to raise. Especially the bridge should not be itself begun until its builder knows very definitely where and how it is to reach the other shore; nothing between the beginning and the end is so important to be sure about from the beginning, as the end. There is a great difference among writers as to the sense of need for a complete preliminary framework on which to build. But beyond doubt many feeble, many abortive, results come of having too little preparatory framework, too slender a scenario, to use a playwright's word which authors and editors are borrowing more and more.

It seems good that a literary artist should always write for himself. Yet, of course, he should write unselfishly; we may say he would do well always to aim at the entertainment of the noblest minds, even when he does not exhort their loftiest moods. But he certainly achieves much besides if, while he does these things, at the same time and in the same doing he entertains the great commonalty of readers. If he does this, and all the more if he has the rare genius to do all these in one, his books, we may almost say, ought to go first through the magazines. If he wants them to do so, then it will be a godsend to himself as well as to the editors if he will lay his plans, as far as they have any arithmetical character (and they can have much), according to the magazines' mechanical exigencies. He should know just how much of any magazine page his own typewritten pages will occupy; how many of its own pages that magazine commonly allows to writings of the kind he proposes to offer—how many yearly, and how many monthly; and so on. It is well that he should know the best time of the magazine's business year in which to seek to arrange with them. To a certain degree magazines actually "lay in stock" for a coming season and after that, for a time, are languid buyers.

Be it understood that these remarks are as impromptu as a letter, and are intended only as hints and pointers. Yet much as they leave unstated, let a word be said as to the relation of the author to his book after he and all the later artisans of it have done their several parts in its building, and it is built. The care of the edifice ought still to be, far more than it commonly is, in the author's hands. The publisher has the fortunes of hundreds of works to promote and keep in repair; the author has but his own. Even an author may say that any publisher is glad to have suggestions from any author as to plans for keeping the children of that author's own brain alive in the world.[Back to Contents]

THE LITERARY AGENT
By Paul R. Reynolds

The work of the literary agent in the building of a book may be roughly divided into two parts, first, in relation to the author, and second, in relation to the publisher. When the author has finished his manuscript, he brings it to the literary agent to be placed. The literary agent reads it and decides what house is most likely to publish such a book. He does not offer a book on Nervous Disorders to a house which never publishes that kind of book. He does not offer a sensational novel to a conservative house. He offers a book on Political Economy to a house which publishes that class of book and which is in touch with the people who buy books of that order. Among a number of houses which bring out books of any definite class, he can select the house that is most energetic in pushing its books, that has behind it a prestige and name which will help its publications, and which possesses the requisite skill to lay its wares before the public advantageously. The success of many a book has depended more on the shrewdness of the publisher in laying it before the public in attractive and seductive guise than either the public or the author often realize.

If the publisher accepts the manuscript offered to him by the literary agent, the latter arranges terms with the publisher, making as good a business arrangement as all the conditions justify. He draws up the contract with the publisher, and after the book is published, he collects the royalties from the publisher as they fall due. He enables the author to avoid any house that has a reputation for sharp practices. Knowing the personnel of the different houses, he knows the proper man to approach in offering his book, and he is of aid to the author in blowing his trumpet for him, telling what his previous work has been, in a way that the author, sensitive as he often is, cannot properly do. In short, the agent takes off the author's shoulders all the business end of publishing, leaving him free to devote himself to his own proper vocation without the vexatious business worries which he finds all the more vexatious because he has not had any training or experience in coping with them.

I think the literary agent can be, and as time goes on, will be, of increasing use to the publisher. The literary agent, if he understands his business, takes up no manuscript in which he does not believe. When he brings the publisher a manuscript, it is because he thinks there is money in such manuscript for the publisher, for the author, and as far as commission is concerned, for himself. While it is an advantage to the author that he should have the judgment of the agent, because the agent looks at any manuscript from a cold-blooded business point of view, it is also of advantage to the publisher to know that the agent, free from the confidence and perhaps the bias that the author has about his own wares, is offering him any individual manuscript because he (the agent) believes it will sell. The result is that the publisher gets to know that the agent won't offer him a manuscript that is not up to a certain standard, and which, even though it should in the end not prove suitable to this publisher's special list, must receive careful consideration. In this way the agent becomes of use to the publisher because he tries never to offer him anything that is mere trash or that simply wastes the publisher's time. Some time ago a publishing house wrote to an agent telling him they wanted a certain kind of novel for the next season, and describing, with a good deal of particularity, the kind of book they wanted. The agent, after thinking the matter over, submitted two manuscripts. The publisher considered them and accepted both. In such a case the agent had certainly been of great use to the publisher. He had given him what he was looking for, and had saved him the nuisance and the actual expense of reading through a large number of manuscripts before finding the right one.

It may be admitted frankly that the agent is sometimes accused of asking more for his wares than they are worth. In reply to this accusation it may be said that asking is not getting, and the agent who asks more than the market justifies, and thereby spoils the chances of a satisfactory arrangement, is not serving the best interests of his client. On the other hand, he will get the best price obtainable in the market, taking into consideration the character of the publishing house, its prestige and ability in pushing books, and as he is offering and selling every day he can generally obtain a better price and make a better arrangement than the author can. Realizing that the author and publishers are partners in an enterprise whose success depends upon a frank and clear understanding, he will do his best to make such relations friendly and harmonious and to the mutual advantage of both parties to the contract, never forgetting, however, that his especial client is the author, and that it is his duty to represent the author's interests.

One of the notable features of the times is the growth of magazines. The arrangement for the serialization of a long story in a magazine, the placing of short stories and articles in magazines, the selling of stories, articles, and books in England, and arranging the simultaneous issue in both countries,—all this involves an immense amount of detail which one has to encounter fully to realize. Sometimes, where an author is putting out a good many manuscripts, the complications are numerous and perplexing. In the case of one author living abroad whom we will call Smith, a book was arranged with a house A, and a second with a house B. The author was taken ill, could not finish the first book in time so that A had to postpone it till the next year, and this meant that B had to postpone his book. Then a publishing house took a story which the same author had sold direct to it for magazine publication, without reserving book rights, and brought such story out in book form. This meant another complication. After B had postponed his book twice the author produced another book which he thought better than the second book, and wished published before B's book. Four times B was asked to postpone his book and each time agreed to, though not without certain quid pro quos. All these matters the agent had to straighten out, while the author was living three thousand miles away.

The agent can also be of use to the author because he looks at any manuscript in an objective rather than in a subjective way. The author, who has toiled and striven over the child of his brain, regards it as fathers generally regard their children. Sometimes he cannot see its faults, sometimes he misjudges its virtues. It is too much a part of himself to be regarded coldly and calmly. When the publisher makes an offer for a book the author may with hasty disdain wish to reject it as entirely inadequate, or he may wish to accept it with eager haste, so glad is he for the chance of seeing the book in print. In this state of hasty acceptance or hasty rejection, the agent can look upon an offer calmly and dispassionately, to be accepted or rejected as the author's best interests shall dictate. Then again, as time goes on, more and more authors must live at a distance from the great centres. Some of them live in the uttermost parts of the earth. One author wrote recently to his agent from the wilds of Africa, saying, "I have found a nicely secluded spot, surrounded by gorillas and chimpanzees." To such authors it is essential that they should have an agent who is in touch with the publishers who are publishing their works.

Then again, the agent can be of use to the author in sparing him some of the bitterness that the author feels when his manuscript is rejected. Who that has read it can ever forget the story of how Hawthorne, while still struggling for success, submitted a collection of short stories to a publisher, and of how the publisher, not having much capital, laid the manuscript aside, intending to publish it when things were a little easier; and how Hawthorne, after months of dreary waiting, wrote an angry letter to the publisher, and when he got the manuscript back, in bitter, hopeless rage burned it up? Years afterward the publisher admitted that the manuscript contained some of the most exquisite work Hawthorne had ever written. This story emphasizes the intense sensitiveness of the author about his work. Often after two or three rejections he will give the manuscript up as hopeless and of no value, while it may be that he has only failed to find the house that is looking for that kind of book. An agent, if he has once taken the book up, does not drop it so quickly. Only recently an agent sold a book which had been declined by fifteen houses to the sixteenth. He is willing to persevere with a manuscript and with an author, in spite of rebuffs and discouragement, if he believes that the author has merit; and if he is willing to persevere with an author in the day of small things, he will reap his reward later on.

In conclusion the writer believes that the agent, as he has tried to indicate, can perform a definite and valuable service to both author and publisher by helping the author to bring his wares to the man who will publish them most advantageously, and by obtaining for the author the prices that such wares are worth in the open market, and he can help the publisher by acting as a sifter and bringing before the publisher and editor manuscripts that are really worthy of consideration.[Back to Contents]

THE LITERARY ADVISER
By Francis W. Halsey

The position of literary adviser to a publishing house differs in its duties, according as the adviser may be employed in a house highly organized, or in one that is not. When the organization is such that the duties in the various departments are not well differentiated, the adviser's work will be likely to involve many things that properly belong to the manufacturing and advertising departments. These conditions, however, if they exist at all, will be found in the smaller houses, or in houses which, as to personnel, are undergoing reorganization; they are, and ought to be, exceptional.

The adviser's actual duties should pertain almost exclusively to the manuscripts, and to the relations of the house with those who produce them. In this way, the adviser acts as an intermediary between the publisher and the author. This relation seems, on the surface, to be somewhat delicate, and it usually is confidential, but most men find the occupation an agreeable one. Authors as a class, so far from being an irritable race, will usually be found, at least in their relations to publishers, not only interesting men and women, but candid and reasonable human beings. Probably the most delightful rewards of the literary adviser's calling come from the opportunities it gives him to extend his friendships among charming people.

Any house which is large enough to employ a literary adviser will probably receive, in the course of a year, at least one thousand unsolicited manuscripts, which will come from every part of the country. They will naturally be of widely varying degrees of excellence; quite two-thirds of them will be fiction, and a considerable number will bear convincing evidence of having already been for some time in search of a publisher. Testimony from various houses has at different times been given as to the percentage of volunteered manuscripts which eventually find acceptance. It does not materially vary, being from one to two per cent. Some years ago, in order to test this estimate, I went carefully over the unsolicited manuscripts which had reached a large publishing house during a period of several months, and found that exactly one and one-half per cent of them had been published.

This small showing should not imply that the remaining ninety-eight or ninety-nine per cent could in fairness be called worthless. With occasional exceptions, rejected manuscripts have been prepared with considerable intelligence; knowledge of themes is shown in them; there is some real literary skill in evidence, and particular care has been taken to secure legibility, about nine-tenths of them being in typewritten form. What they lack is certain other qualities more vital in the formation of a judgment as to their availability. In the case of fiction, they lack novelty of treatment, or for some other reason fail to be interesting, and in general there has not been infused into them the real breath of life. When they deal with serious subjects, they often cover ground which has been better covered before, or they attempt to achieve the not-worth-while, or the impossible.

There is always a small number of manuscripts against which no other objection can be raised than that it would be impossible to secure from the public an adequate return in sales for the expenditure necessary in the manufacture and distribution of the books. One of the pathetic sides of the publishing business is the fact that manuscripts of this kind cannot oftener, in this day and generation, secure the amount of attention they deserve from the reading public. When a sale of one or two thousand copies would be necessary to make good the cost of publication, the publisher is confronted with the fact that he could not secure a sale exceeding five hundred. Indeed, when one considers the almost certain fate that awaits them, pathos of the most genuine kind is closely associated with volunteered manuscripts—those, I mean, which come from new writers. Hardly any form of endeavor to which educated minds devote themselves should more often awaken sympathetic feeling. Those who produce them almost always have their rewards far to seek, and seeking will not find them, and yet they "wrought in sad sincerity."

The public is familiar with stories of successful books which, in the course of their peregrinations, were several times rejected by publishers. This, doubtless, has been the experience of all authors who have made notable successes with first books, and it doubtless always will be the experience of new authors. But along with this we must set down the further, but consoling fact, that probably no meritorious manuscript, possessing the possibilities of a great sale, ever yet failed ultimately to find a publisher. The best proof of this seems to be the absence of any notable instance of a book which, after being rejected by all the regular houses, finally was brought out privately, or at the author's expense, and then made a hit.

It is a common impression that manuscripts are not carefully read in publishing houses. Again and again has this fiction been exploded by houses whose word should be accepted as final, but it now and then lifts up its head as if untouched before. Of course there are manuscripts which no one ever reads completely through from beginning to end, chapter by chapter, and page by page, simply because it has been found not to be necessary to do so. Every conscientious reader, however,—and most readers known to me have been nothing if not conscientious,—reads at least far enough into a manuscript to learn if there be anything in it that in the least degree is promising. He understands full well the danger of overlooking a meritorious work, and experience has taught him to be careful. Moreover, he is usually fired with the worthy ambition to make a discovery; but he acts according to his light only, and hence makes mistakes. The conditions in which his work is done, however, preclude the possibility of careless reading.

It is doubtless true—indeed, I believe the records of every publishing house in the country will sustain this statement—that while no house has failed at some time in its career to reject at least one manuscript that was afterwards a highly successful book, mistakes of this kind have been extremely few; whereas the mistakes made by the same houses in accepting manuscripts that were afterward found to be unprofitable have been numerous. A further fact, which is seldom borne in mind, although it ought always to be remembered in any discussion of literary success, is that highly successful books usually bring to their publishers as much surprise as they do to any one else. This is distinctly true of novels by new writers, whose "big-sellers" have seldom or never been anticipated. It is well known in the trade that at least two, and probably a half-dozen, books highly successful during the past ten years, and all the works of new writers, were sent to press for the first edition, with a printing order for only two thousand copies.

The public has gotten very much into the habit of judging the fortunes of a publishing house by the successful fiction which it puts forth, and this is also true of many men in the trade, whose means of knowing better ought to be ample. Probably the literary gossip prevalent in newspapers and periodicals is largely responsible for this habit. The facts are, however, that, from these books alone, no publishing house in this country is, or could be, well sustained. Unless there be in the background some other publishing enterprise that is producing constant revenue from year to year, mere fiction will accomplish little to make or save the publisher. The real sources of stability lie elsewhere, far beyond the ken of the superficial observer, and they are very commonly overlooked. In one instance, this mainstay is religious books; in another a cyclopædia; in another medical books, or educational; in another a dictionary; in another a periodical; and fortunate the house that has not one, but two or three, such sources of prosperity.

It might be set down as an axiomatic statement that no large publishing house in this country could possibly live exclusively from what are known as miscellaneous books, by which is meant current fiction and other ephemeral publications. The worst thing about such books is that they create no assets; their life is short, and once it is ended, the plates have value only as old metal. A house, therefore, in publishing this class of books finds that each season it must begin all over again the work of creating business for itself. Books of the more substantial kind, however, whether they be religious, educational, scientific, medical, or in other senses books of reference, do not perish with the passing of a season. Once the right kinds have been found, they are good for at least ten years, and not infrequently for a generation.

But this is wandering somewhat away from the subject of the literary adviser. His duties primarily are to preserve and to create good-will from authors toward the house which employs him, for that good-will is an asset of the first importance to a publishing house. Other kinds of good-will at the same time are essential to its fortunes,—notably the good-will of the bookseller and that of the book buyer,—but behind these, and primarily as the source of these, lies the good-will of the author. Houses now known to be the most prosperous in this country possess this good-will in abundance. So, too, the houses which are destined to much longer life are those which, by all legitimate means, shall seek to preserve and increase that good-will. Equally true is it, that the houses which in future shall fail will be those which do not cultivate and cherish the good-will of authors as the most valuable asset they can ever hope to possess.

It is because of this possession that a publisher gets an author's book. It was by this means that he got the books he already has, and by this will he get those which will make him successful in the future. His books being good, it is through them that the bookseller's good-will is acquired, and through them also that the publisher will secure the good-will of the book buyer. No wiser words on this subject have been uttered in our generation than those which may be found, here and there, in "A Publisher's Confession," which I hope was written, as reputed, by Walter H. Page, for it is certainly sound enough and sane enough to be his:—

"The successful publisher sustains a relation to the successful author that is not easily transferable. It is a personal relation. A great corporation cannot take a real publisher's place in his attitude to the author he serves."

"Every great publishing house has been built on the strong friendships between writers and publishers. There is in fact, no other sound basis to build on; for the publisher cannot do his highest duty to any author whose work he does not appreciate and with whom he is not in sympathy. Now, when a man has an appreciation of your work, and sympathy for it, he wins you. This is the simplest of all psychological laws,—the simplest of all laws of friendship, and one of the soundest."

"Mere printers and salesmen have not often built publishing houses. For publishing houses have this distinction over most other commercial institutions—they rest on the friendship of the most interesting persons in the world, the writers of good books."

"And—in all the noisy babble of commercialism—the writers of our own generation who are worth most on a publisher's list respond to the true publishing personality as readily as writers did before the day of commercial methods. All the changes that have come into the profession have not, after all, changed its real character, as it is practised on its higher levels. And this rule will hold true—that no publishing house can win and keep a place on the highest level that does not have at least one man who possesses this true publishing personality."

These are golden words. Men who knew them as self-evident truths laid the foundations, and in a few instances reared the superstructures, of the most famous publishing houses known to modern literature. Let us in part call the roll, restricting it to the dead: James T. Fields, the first Charles Scribner, George P. Putnam, Fletcher Harper, William H. Appleton, Daniel Macmillan, and the second John Murray. These men were more than publishers, adding as they did to that vocation the duties of the literary adviser, and becoming the ablest of their kind. Well may the literary adviser of our day, who is seldom himself a publisher, read the story of their lives and take heart from it in the discharge of his own duties.[Back to Contents]

THE MANUFACTURING DEPARTMENT
By Lawton L. Walton

The manufacture of a book consists primarily of the processes of typography,[1] or type composition, or the setting up of type—presswork or printing—photo-engraving or other methods of reproduction—designing—die-cutting—and binding, all of which are involved in transforming a manuscript into the completed book as it reaches the reader.

In the machinery of a modern publishing house the manufacturing man is the person who follows these processes in their devious volutions and evolutions, until the finished production comes from the binder's hands.

After a manuscript has been accepted by a publishing house, it is turned over to the manufacturing man with such general instructions regarding the make-up of the book, as may have been considered or discussed with the author, who invariably and sometimes unfortunately, has some preconceived notion of what his book should look like.

The manufacturing man then selects what he considers a suitable style and size of type and size of letter-press page for the book, and sends the manuscript to the typographer with instructions to set up a few sample pages, and to make an estimate of the number of pages that the book will make, so as to verify his own calculations in this respect.

If these sample pages do not prove satisfactory, others are set up, until a page is arrived at finally that will meet all the requirements that the publisher deems necessary. This is then invariably submitted to the author for his approval.

This detail settled, the typographer is now instructed to proceed with the composition and to send proofs to the author. Sometimes a book is set up at once in page form but more often first proofs are sent out in galley strips, on which the author makes his corrections before the matter is apportioned into pages; another proof in page form is sent to the author on the return of which the typographer casts the electrotype plates from which the book is printed, unless, as in rare instances, the book is to be printed from the type, when no electrotype plates are made.

The manufacturing man keeps in touch with this work in its various stages as it proceeds, and as soon as the number of pages that the book will make can definitely be determined, he places an order for the paper on which it is to be printed.

Meanwhile, if the book is to be illustrated, an illustrator must be engaged, and furnished with a set of early proofs of the book from which to select the points or situations to illustrate. When the drawings are finally approved they are carefully looked over, marked to show the sizes at which they are to be reproduced, and sent to the engraver for reproduction.

Upon receipt of the reproductions from the engraver, the proofs are carefully compared with the originals, and if the work has been satisfactorily performed, the cuts are sent to the typographer or the printer for insertion in their proper places in the plates or type matter of the book.

The matter of the paper on which the book is to be printed has now to be considered: First, the size of the page, i.e. the apportionment of the margins around the page of letter-press, is decided. Second, the quality of paper to be used, and the surface or finish is then selected; and finally, the bulk or thickness that the book must be, to make a volume of proper proportions, is determined. The paper is then ordered, to be delivered to the printer who will print the book.

Time was when paper was made by hand in certain fixed sizes, and the size of the book was determined by the number of times the sheet of paper was folded, and the letter-press page was adapted to the size of the paper. In these days of machinery, when paper can be made in any size of sheet desired, the process is reversed: the size of the letter-press page is determined and the size of the sheet of paper adapted thereto. Upon receipt of the paper the printer sends a full-sized dummy of it to the manufacturing man so that he may compare it with the order that was given to the paper dealer. The book is then put to press, and as soon as the printing has been completed, the printed sheets are delivered to the binder.

If the book is to have a decorative cover, a designer has been employed to furnish a suitable cover design. When the design has been approved, it is turned over to the die cutter to cut the brass dies used by the binder in stamping the design on the cover of the book.

The dies when finished are sent with the design to the binder to be copied. He stamps off some sample covers until the result called for by the designer has been attained and is then ready to proceed with the operation of binding the book, as soon as the printed sheets have been delivered to him from the printer.

The binder is usually supplied by the printer with a small number of advance copies of the book, before the complete run of the sheets has been delivered. These advance copies are bound up at once and delivered to the manufacturing man so that any faults or errors may be caught and improvements be made before the entire edition of the book is bound.

Printed paper wrappers for the book have been made and supplied to the binder for wrapping each copy, and as soon as the books are bound, they are wrapped and delivered at the publisher's stock rooms.

The manufacturing man sees that early copies of each new book, for copyright purposes, are furnished to the proper department that attends to that detail, and that early copies also are supplied to the publicity department, to place with editors for special or advance reviews.

The manufacturing man also provides the travelling representatives of his house with adequate dummies (i.e. partly completed copies) of all new books as soon as the important details of their make-up have been decided.

This brief outline covers all of the steps in the process of the evolution of a book. Reams, however, could be devoted to the innumerable details that interweave and overlap each other with which the manufacturing man has to contend, when, as is often the case in our larger publishing houses, he has from forty to fifty books, and sometimes more, in process of manufacture at one time. I know of no man to whom disappointment comes more often than to him,—from the delays due to causes wholly unavoidable, to the blunders of stupid workmen and the broken promises of others; but these are all forgotten when the completed book, that he has worried over in its course through the press, in many instances for months, reaches his hands completed, "a thing of beauty."[Back to Contents]

THE MAKING OF TYPE
By L. Boyd Benton

Type are made of type metal, a mixture of tin, antimony, lead, and copper. As antimony expands in solidifying, advantage is taken of this quality, and the mixture is so proportioned that the expansion of the antimony will practically counteract the shrinkage of the other ingredients. The proportion of the mixture is varied according to the size and style of type and to the purposes for which it is used.

Type are cast separately in moulds, a "matrix" at the end of the mould forming the letter or other character.

Machinery is used very largely in modern type-making. The steps of its manufacture are in this order: drawing the design, producing of a metal pattern therefrom, placing the pattern either in the engraving machine to produce steel punches and type-metal originals, or in the matrix-engraving machine to produce matrices, adjusting the matrix to the mould, and finally, casting the type.

The design for a new style of type is made generally with pen and ink, the capital letters being drawn about an inch high and the others in predetermined proportions. When the design is for a plain text letter, similar to that with which this book is printed, it is essential to have the letters proportioned and shaped in such a manner as will cause the least strain on the eye in reading, and, at the same time, produce a pleasing effect when the page is viewed as a whole. When the printed page conveys information to the reader, without attracting attention to itself, it is ideal.

While this is true in regard to a design for a text letter, the design for a display type is often made to attract attention, not only to itself, but to what it proclaims, by its boldness and beauty and sometimes even by its ugliness.

After the design has been drawn, it is placed in a "delineating machine," where an enlarged outline pencil copy, or tracing, is made, so large that all errors are easily seen and corrected. New designs may, however, be drawn in outline by hand on the enlarged scale, thus rendering unnecessary both the pen-and-ink drawing and the tracing.

With the aid of the delineating machine, the operator, besides being able to produce an accurately enlarged outline pencil tracing of a design, is also enabled, by various adjustments, to change the form of the pencil tracing in such a manner that it becomes proportionately more condensed or extended, and even italicized or back-sloped. That is, from a single design, say Gothic, pencil tracings can be made condensed, extended, italicized, and back-sloped, as well as an enlarged facsimile.

The next operation consists in placing the enlarged outline pencil drawing in a machine which enables the operator to reproduce the outline drawing, reduced in size, on a metal plate, evenly covered with wax, with the line traced entirely through the wax. The plate is then covered with a thin layer of copper, electrically deposited, and is "backed up" with metal, and trimmed and finished, similar to an ordinary electrotype plate of a page of type. A copper-faced metal plate is thus produced, on which are the raised outlines of a letter. This is called the "pattern." From this pattern all regular type sizes may be cut. It determines the shape of the letter, but the size and variations from the pattern are determined later by the adjustments of the engraving machine in which it is used.

The pattern is now sent to the engraving room. Machines have superseded the old-fashioned way of cutting punches and originals by hand, and they have enormously increased the production of new type faces. Whereas in the old days it took about eighteen months to bring out a new Roman face, or style of letters, in seven different sizes, to-day it can be done in about five weeks. The reason is that formerly only one artist, known as a punch-cutter, could work on a single face, and he had to cut all the sizes, otherwise there were noticeable differences in style. By machine methods, where all sizes can be cut simultaneously, it is only a question of having the requisite number of engraving machines.

As to the quality of machine work, it is superior to hand work both in accuracy and uniformity. The artist formerly cut the punches, or originals, by hand under a magnifying glass, and the excellence of his work was really marvellous. However, when changing from one size to another, there were often perceptible variations in the shapes of the letters, or the sizes were not always evenly graded. By the machine method the workman uses the long end of a lever, as explained below, and has therefore a greater chance of doing accurate work. In addition to this, a rigid pattern forms the shape of the letter, and to it all sizes must conform.

Another gain the machine has over hand-cutting is its greater range. When the old-time artist made an unusually small size of type for Bible use, he did it with great strain on his eyes and nerves. At any moment his tool might slip and spoil the work. With the machine, on the other hand, and with no physical strain whatever, experimental punches have been cut so small as to be legible only with a microscope—too small, in fact, to print. At present there are two styles of engraving machines employed,—one cutting the letter in relief,—called a "punch" if cut in steel, and an "original" if cut in type metal,—and the other cutting a letter in intaglio,—called a "matrix." Both machines are constructed on the principle of the lever, the long arm following the pattern, while the short arm moves either the work against the cutting tool, or the cutting tool against the work. The adjustments are such that the operator is enabled to engrave the letter proportionately more extended or condensed, and lighter or heavier in face, than the pattern. All these variations are necessary for the production of a properly graded modern series containing the usual sizes. In fact, on account of the laws of optics, which cannot be gone into here, only one size of a series is cut in absolutely exact proportion to the patterns.

As it is impossible to describe these machines clearly without the aid of many diagrams and much technical language, only a brief description of their operation will be given.

When the letters are to be engraved in steel, blocks or "blanks" are cut from soft steel and finished to the proper size. A blank is then fastened in the "holder," the machine for cutting the letter in relief adjusted to the proper leverage, and the pattern clamped to the "bed." The long arm of the lever, containing the proper "tracer" or follower, is moved by the operator around the outside of the pattern on the copper-faced metal plate, causing the blank to be moved by the shorter arm around and against a rotating cutting tool. This operation is repeated several times with different sizes of tracers and different adjustments to enable the cutting tool to cut at different depths, until finally a steel letter in relief is produced, engraved the reverse of the pattern and very much smaller. After being hardened and polished, this is called a steel punch, and, when driven into a flat piece of copper, it produces what is known as a "strike" or unfinished matrix.

If in the same machine type metal is used for blanks, the resulting originals are placed in a "flask," or holder, and submerged in a bath, where they receive on the face of the letter a thick coating of nickel, electrically deposited. As soon as the deposit is of sufficient thickness, they are removed and the soft metal letters withdrawn, leaving a deep facsimile impression in the deposited metal, which also is an unfinished matrix.

The machine for engraving a matrix in intaglio is operated in much the same manner as that for engraving a punch in relief. The same patterns are used, but the operator traces on the inside of the raised outline instead of on the outside. Besides following the outline, the operator guides the tracers over all the surface of the pattern within the outlines; otherwise the letter would appear in the matrix in outline only. The matrices are cut in steel and in watchmakers' nickel, and the work is so accurately done that about half the labor of finishing is saved.

It will be noted from the foregoing that all three processes of engraving end in the production of an unfinished matrix.

The adjusting of the matrix to the mould is technically called "fitting," and requires great skill. If type are cast from unfitted matrices, be the letters ever so cleverly designed and perfectly cut, when assembled in the printed page they will present a very ragged appearance. Some letters will appear slanting backward, others forward, some be above the line, others below; some will perforate the paper, while others will not print at all; the distances between the letters will everywhere be unequal, and some will print on but one edge. Indeed, a single letter may have half of these faults, but when the matrices are properly fitted, the printed page presents a smooth and even appearance.

The mould for this purpose is made of hardened steel, and in it is formed the body of the type. The printing end is formed in the matrix. The mould is provided at one end with guides and devices for holding the matrix snugly against it while the type is being cast, and for withdrawing the matrix and opening the mould when the type is discharged. At the opposite end from the matrix is an opening through which the melted metal enters. The moulds are made adjustable so that each character is cast the proper width, the opening of course being wider for a "W" than for an "i." Only one mould is necessary for one size of type, and with it all the matrices for that size may be used. Commercially, however, it is often necessary to make several moulds of the same size in order to produce the requisite amount of type.

After the adjustments are made, the casting of the type follows. Type are now cast in a machine which is automatic, after it is once adjusted to cast a given letter. The melted type metal is forced by a pump into the mould and the matrix, and when solidified, the type is ejected from the mould and moved between knives which trim all four sides. The type are delivered side by side on a specially grooved piece of wood, three feet long, called a "stick," on which they are removed from the machine for inspection. Type are cast at the rate of from ten to two hundred per minute, according to the size, the speed being limited only by the time it takes the metal to solidify. To accelerate this, a stream of cold water is forced through passages surrounding the mould, and a jet of cold air is blown against the outside.

The automatic casting machine performs six different operations. Formerly, all of them, except the casting itself, were done by hand, and each type was handled separately, except in the operation of dressing, or the final finishing, where they were handled in lines of about three feet in length.

After the type have been delivered to the inspector, they are examined under a magnifying glass and all imperfect type are thrown out. The perfect type are then delivered to "fonting" room, where they are weighed, counted, and put up in suitable packages in proper proportion of one letter with another, ready for the printer.

Formerly the various sizes of type were indicated by names which had developed with the history of type making. It was a source of considerable annoyance to printers that these old standards were not accurate, and that two types of supposedly the same size, and sold under the same name, by different makers, varied so much that they could not be used side by side. Of recent years the "point" system, by which each size bears a proportionate relation to every other size, has done much to remedy this trouble, and now nearly all type is made on that basis. An American point is practically one seventy-second of an inch. Actually it is .013837 inch. It was based on the pica size most extensively in use in this country. This pica was divided into twelve equal parts and each part called a point. All the other sizes were made to conform to multiples of this point. The point is so near a seventy-second of an inch that printers frequently calculate the length of the pages by counting the lines, the basis being twelve lines of 6 point, nine lines of 8 point, eight lines of 9 point, and six lines of 12 point to the inch. This calculation is really quite accurate.

The following table will show the old and new names for the various sizes:—

3-½ Point, Brilliant.
4-½ Point, Diamond.
5 Point, Pearl.
5-½ Point, Agate.
6 Point, Nonpareil.
7 Point, Minion.
8 Point, Brevier.
9 Point, Bourgeois.
10 Point, Long Primer.
11 Point, Small Pica.
12 Point, Pica.
14 Point, 2-line Minion or English.
16 Point, 2-line Brevier.
18 Point, Great Primer.
20 Point, 2-line Long Primer or Paragon.
22 Point, 2-line Small Pica.
24 Point, 2-line Pica.
28 Point, 2-line English.
30 Point, 5-line Nonpareil.
32 Point, 4-line Brevier.
36 Point, 2-line Great Primer.
40 Point, Double Paragon.
42 Point, 7-line Nonpareil.
44 Point, 4-line Small Pica or Canon.
48 Point, 4-line Pica.
54 Point, 9-line Nonpareil.
60 Point, 5-line Pica.
72 Point, 6-line Pica.

[Back to Contents]

HAND COMPOSITION AND ELECTROTYPING
By J. Stearns Cushing

The form of the book, the size of the type page, and the size and style of the type having been determined, the manuscript is handed to the foreman of the composing room, with all the collected directions in regard to it. He fills out a scheme of the work which tells the whole story,—somewhat as shown in illustration opposite page 42.

Under the heading "Remarks," in the scheme shown, are noted general directions as to capitalization, punctuation, and spelling (whether Webster, Worcester, or English spelling—which means generally not much more than the insertion of the "u" in words like "favor," "honor," etc., and the use of "s" instead of "z" in words like "recognize," "authorize," etc.). Sometimes these directions are given by the publisher, sometimes by the author, but more often by the superintendent or foreman of the printing-office. The office generally has a fairly well established system, which is followed in the absence of other orders. It is rarely the case that it is not the wisest course, if one is dealing with a reputable firm of printers, to leave all such details, except deciding the dictionary to be followed, to them. It is their business, and they will, if allowed, pursue a consistent and uniform plan, whereas few authors and fewer publishers are able, or take the pains, to do this. Too often the author has a few peculiar ideas as to punctuation or capitalization, which he introduces just frequently enough to upset the consistent plan of the printer. He will neither leave the responsibility to the latter nor will he assume it himself, and the natural result is a lack of uniformity which might have been avoided if the printer had been allowed to guide this part of the work without interference.

The compositors who are to set the type are selected according to the difficulty of the matter in hand, and each one is given a few pages of the "copy," or manuscript. The portion thus given each compositor is called a "take," and its length is determined by circumstances. For instance, if time is an object, small takes are given, in order that the next step in the forwarding of the work may be started promptly and without the delay which would be occasioned by waiting for the compositor to set up a longer take.

When the compositor has finished his take, the copy and type are passed to a boy, who "locks up" the type on the galley—a flat brass tray with upright sides on which the compositor has placed his type—and takes a proof of it upon a galley-or "roller"-press. This is the proof known as a "galley-proof," and is, in book work, printed on a strip of paper about 7 × 25 inches in size, leaving room for a generous margin to accommodate proof-readers' and authors' corrections, alterations, or additions.

The galley-proof, with the corresponding copy, is then handed to the proof-reader, who is assisted by a "copy-holder" (an assistant who reads the copy aloud) in comparing it with the manuscript and marking typographical errors and departures from copy on its margin. Thence the proof passes back again to the compositor, who corrects the type in accordance with the proof-reader's markings. Opposite page 44 is a specimen of a page proof before correction and after the changes indicated have been made.

New proofs are taken of the corrected galley, and these are revised by a proof-reader in order to be sure that the compositor has made all the corrections marked and to mark anew any he may have overlooked or wrongly altered. If many such occur, the proof is again passed to the compositor for further correction and the taking of fresh proofs. The reviser having found the proof reasonably correct, and having marked on its margin any noticed errors remaining, and also having "Queried" to the author any doubtful points to which it is desirable that the latter's attention should be drawn, the proof—known as the "first revise"—and the manuscript are sent to the author for his reading and correction or alteration.[2]

On the return of the galley-proofs to the printer, the changes indicated on the margins are made by compositors selected for the purpose, and the galleys of type and the proofs are then turned over by them to the "make-up." The "make-up" inserts the cuts, divides the matter into page lengths, and adds the running titles and folios at the heads of the pages.

At this stage the separate types composing the page are held in place and together by strong twine called "page cord," which is wound around the whole page several times, the end being so tucked in at the corner as to prevent its becoming unfastened prematurely. The page thus held together is quite secure against being "pied" if proper care is exercised in handling it, and it can be put on a hand-press and excellent proofs readily taken from it. A loosely tied page, however, may allow the letters to spread apart at the ends of the lines, or the type to get "off its feet," or may show lines slightly curved or letters out of alignment. The proof of a page displaying such conditions often causes the author, unlearned in printers' methods, much perturbation of mind and unnecessary fear that his book is going to be printed with these defects. These should in reality be no cause for worry, since by a later operation, that of "locking-up" the "form" in which the pages will be placed before they are sent to the electrotyping department, the types readily and correctly adjust themselves.

Proofs of these twine-bound pages are taken on a hand-press, passed to the reviser for comparison with the galley-proofs returned by the author, and if the latter has expressed a wish to see a second revise of the proofs, they are again sent to him. For such a "second revise" and any further revises an extra charge is made. The proofs to which an author is regularly entitled are a duplicate set of the first revise, a duplicate set of "F"-proofs,—to be mentioned later,—and one set of proofs of the electrotype plates; though it may be added that the last is not at all essential and is seldom called for.

Usually the author does not require to see another proof after the second revise, which he returns to the printer with his final changes and the direction that the pages may be "corrected and cast," that is, put into the permanent form of electrotype plates. Some authors, however, will ask to see and will make alterations in revise after revise, even to the sixth or seventh, and could probably find something to change in several more if the patience or pocketbook of the publisher would permit it. All the expense of overhauling, correcting, and taking additional proofs of the pages is charged by the printer as "author's time." It is possible for an author to make comparatively few and simple changes each time he receives a new revise, but yet have a much larger bill for author's changes than another who makes twice or thrice as many alterations at one time on the galley-proof, and only requires another proof in order that he may verify the correctness of the printer's work. The moral is obvious.

After the pages have been cast, further alterations, while entirely possible, are quite expensive and necessarily more or less injurious to the plates.

The author having given the word to "cast," the pages of type are laid on a smooth, level table of iron or marble called an "imposing stone." They are then enclosed—either two or three or four pages together, according to their size—in iron frames called "chases," in which they are squarely and securely "locked up," the type having first been levelled down by light blows of a mallet on a block of smooth, hard wood called a "planer." This locking-up of the pages in iron frames naturally corrects the defects noted in the twine-bound pages, and not only brings the type into proper alignment and adjustment, but prevents the probability of types becoming displaced or new errors occurring through types dropping out of the page and being wrongly replaced.

When the locking-up process is completed, the iron chase and type embraced by it is called a "form." A proof of this form is read and examined by a proof-reader with the utmost care, with a view to eliminating any remaining errors or defective types or badly adjusted lines, and to making the pages as nearly typographically perfect as possible. It is surprising how many glaring errors, which have eluded all readers up to this time, are discovered by the practised eye of the final proof-reader.

The form having received this most careful final reading, the proof is passed back to the "stone-hands"—those who lock up and correct the forms—for final correction and adjustment, after which several more sets of proofs are taken, called "F"-proofs (variously and correctly understood as standing for "final," "file," or "foundry" proofs). A set of F-proofs is sent to the author to keep on file, occasionally one is sent to the publisher, and one set is always retained in the proof-room of the printing-office. These proofs are characterized by heavy black borders which enclose each page, and which frequently render nervous authors apprehensive lest their books are to appear in this funereal livery. These black borders are the prints of the "guard-lines," which, rising to the level of the type, form a protection to the pages and the plates in their progress through the electrotyping department; but before the plates are finished up and made ready for the pressroom, the guard-lines, which have been moulded with the type, are removed.

After several sets of F-proofs have been taken, the form is carried to the moulding or "battery" room of the electrotyping department, where it leaves its perfect impress in the receptive wax. Thence it will later be returned to the composing room and taken apart and the type distributed, soon to be again set up in new combinations of letters and words. The little types making a page of verse to-day may do duty to-morrow in a page of a text-book in the higher mathematics.

After the type form has been warmed by placing it upon a steam table, an impression of it is taken in a composition resembling wax which is spread upon a metal slab to the thickness of about one-twelfth of an inch. Both the surface of the type and of the wax are thoroughly coated with plumbago or black lead, which serves as a lubricant to prevent the wax from adhering to the type.

As the blank places in the form would not provide sufficient depth in the plate, it is necessary to build them up in the wax mould by dropping more melted wax in such places to a height corresponding to the depth required in the plate, which is, of course, the reverse of the mould, and will show corresponding depressions wherever the mould has raised parts. If great care is not taken in this operation of "building-up," wax is apt to flow over into depressions in the mould, thereby effacing from it a part of the impression, and the plate appears later without the letters or words thus unintentionally blotted out. The reviser of the plate-proofs must watch carefully for such cases.

The mould is now thoroughly brushed over again with a better quality of black lead than before, and this furnishes the necessary metallic surface without which the copper would not deposit. Then it is "stopped out" by going over its edges with a hot iron, which melts the wax, destroys the black-lead coating, and confines the deposit of copper to its face.

After carefully clearing the face of the mould of all extraneous matter by a stream of water from a force-pump, it is washed with a solution of iron filings and blue vitriol which forms a primary copper facing. It is then suspended by a copper-connecting strip in a bath containing a solution of sulphate of copper, water, and sulphuric acid. Through the instrumentality of this solution, and the action of a current of electricity from a dynamo, copper particles separate from sheets of copper (called "anodes," which are also suspended in the bath) and deposit into the face of the mould, thus exactly reproducing the elevations and depressions of the form of type or illustrations of which the mould is an impression. After remaining in the bath about two hours, when the deposit of copper should be about as thick as a visiting card, the mould is taken from the bath and the copper shell removed from the wax by pouring boiling hot water upon it. A further washing in hot lye, and a bath in an acid pickle, completely removes every vestige of wax from the shell. The back of the shell is now moistened with soldering fluid and covered with a layer of tin-foil, which acts as a solder between the copper and the later backing of lead.

The shells are now placed face downward in a shallow pan, and melted lead is poured upon them until of a sufficient depth; then the whole mass is cooled off, and the solid lead plate with copper face is removed from the pan and carried to the finishing room, where it is planed down to a standard thickness of about one-seventh of an inch. The various pages in the cast are sawed apart, the guard-lines removed, side and foot edges bevelled, head edge trimmed square, and the open or blank parts of the plate lowered by a routing machine to a sufficient depth to prevent their showing later on the printed sheet.

Then a proof taken from the plates is carefully examined for imperfections, and the plates are corrected or repaired accordingly, and are now ready for the press.

Although, owing to the expense and to the fact that the plate is more or less weakened thereby, it is desirable to avoid as much as possible making alterations in the plates, they can be made, and the following is the course generally pursued. If the change involves but a letter or two, the letters in the plate are cut out and new type letters are inserted; but if the alteration involves a whole word or more, it is inadvisable to insert the lead type, owing to its being softer and less durable than the copper-faced plate, and it will therefore soon show more wear than the rest of the page; and so it is customary to reset and electrotype so much of the page as is necessary to incorporate the proposed alteration, and then to substitute this part of the page for the part to be altered, by cutting out the old and soldering in the new piece, which must of course exactly correspond in size.

As a patched plate is apt at any time to go to pieces on the press, and may destroy other plates around it, or may even damage the press itself, it is generally considered best to cast a new plate from the patched one. This does not, however, apply to plates in which only single letters or words have been inserted, but to those which have been cut apart their whole width for the insertion of one or more lines.

The plates having been finally approved, they are made up in groups (or "signatures") of sixteen, and packed in strong boxes for future storage. Each box generally contains three of these groups, or forty-eight plates, and is plainly marked with the title of the book and the numbers of the signatures contained therein.

The longevity of good electrotype plates is dependent upon the care with which they are handled and the quality of paper printed from them; but with smooth book paper and good treatment it is entirely possible to print from them a half million impressions without their showing any great or material wear.[Back to Contents]

COMPOSITION BY THE LINOTYPE MACHINE
By Frederick J. Warburton

The Linotype, pronounced by London Engineering "the most wonderful machine of the century," was not the product of a day. Its creator, whose early training had never touched the printer's art, was fortunately led to the study of that art, through the efforts of others, whose education had prepared them to look for a better method of producing print than that which had been in use since the days of Gutenberg; but his invention abolished at one stroke composition and distribution; introduced for the first time the line, instead of the letter, as the unit of composition; brought into the art the idea of automatically and instantly producing by a keyboard solid lines of composed and justified type, to be once used and then melted down; rendered it possible to secure for each issue new and sharp faces; abolished the usual investment for type; cheapened the cost of standing matter; removed all danger of "pieing," and at the same time reduced greatly the cost of composition. The story is an interesting one.

In the autumn of 1876, Charles T. Moore, a native of Virginia, exhibited to a company of Washington reporters a printing machine upon which he had been working for many years, and which he believed to be then substantially complete. It was a machine of very moderate dimensions, requiring a small motive power, and which bore upon a cylinder in successive rows the characters required for printed matter. By the manipulation of finger keys, while the cylinder was kept in continuous forward motion, the characters were printed in lithographic ink upon a paper ribbon, in proper relation to each other; this ribbon was afterwards cut into lengths, arranged in the form of a page, "justified," to a certain extent, by cutting between and separating the words, and then transferred to a lithographic stone, from which the print was made. Such print was not, of course, of the highest character, but it was a beginning; and the machines were used in Washington and New York, mainly in the transcription of stenographic notes taken in law cases and in the proceedings of legislative committees. A number of these machines was built, but mechanical difficulties became so frequent that the parties interested resolved, very wisely, before proceeding to build upon a large scale, to put the machine into the hands of a thorough mechanical expert, so that it might be tried out and a determination reached as to whether or not it was a commercially practical one. At the head of the little company of men who nurtured this enterprise and contributed most largely by their labors and means to its development, were James O. Clephane, a well-known law and convention reporter, and Andrew Devine, then the Senate reporter of the Associated Press. In their search for an expert, a Baltimore manufacturer named Hahl, who had constructed some of these machines, was consulted, and upon his recommendation his cousin, Ottmar Mergenthaler, was selected to undertake the work, and thus the future inventor of the Linotype was discovered.

Mergenthaler was born in 1854, in Würtemberg, Germany, had been a watchmaker, and at this time was employed upon the finer parts of the mechanical work done in Hahl's shop. The contract was that Mergenthaler was to give his services at a rate of wages considerably beyond what he was then receiving, and Hahl was to charge a reasonable price for the use of his shop and the cost of material. The task undertaken, however, proved to be a far larger one than had been anticipated, and the means of the promoters were exhausted long before the modifications and improvements continually presented had been worked out. The circle of contributors was therefore necessarily widened, and indeed that process went on for years, enough, could they have been foreseen, to have dismayed and disheartened those who were there "in the beginning." Mergenthaler and Moore, assisted by the practical suggestions of Clephane and Devine, continued to work upon the problem for about two years, by which time the lithographic printing machine had become one which indented the characters in a papier-maché strip, and this being cut up and adjusted upon a flat surface in lines, the way was prepared for casting in type metal. The next step of importance was the production of the "bar indenting machine," a machine which carried a series of metal bars, bearing upon their edges male printing characters, the bars being provided with springs for "justifying" purposes. The papier-maché matrix lines resulting from pressure against the characters were secured upon a backing sheet, over this sheet was laid a gridiron frame containing a series of slots, and into these slots type metal was poured by hand to form slugs bearing the characters from which to print. This system was immediately followed by a machine which cast the slugs automatically, one line at a time, from the matrix sheets.

It was in this work that Mergenthaler received the education which resulted in his great invention and in due time he presented his plans for a machine which was known as the "Band" machine. In this machine the characters required for printing were indented in the edges of a series of narrow brass bands, each band containing a full alphabet, and hanging, with spacers, side by side in the machine. The bands tapered in thickness from top to bottom, the characters being arranged upon them in the order of the width-space which they occupied. By touching the keys of a keyboard similar to a typewriter, the bands dropped successively, bringing the characters required into line at a given point; a casting mechanism was then brought in contact with this line of characters, molten metal forced against it through a mould of the proper dimensions, and a slug with a printing surface upon its face was thus formed. This was recognized as a great advance and was hailed with delight by the now largely increased company. The necessary funds were provided and the building of the new machine undertaken. But Mergenthaler continued active, and before a second of the "Band" machines could be built, he had devised a plan for dealing with the letters by means of independent matrices. These matrices were pieces of brass measuring 1-¼ inches by ¾ of an inch and of the necessary thickness to accommodate the character, which it bore upon its edge in intaglio; they were stored in the newly devised machine in vertical copper tubes, from the bases of which they were drawn, as required, by a mechanism actuated by finger keys, caught by the "ears" as they dropped upon a miniature railway, and by a blast of air carried one by one to the assembling point. Wedge spacers being dropped in between the words, the line was carried to the front of the mould, where "justification" and casting took place.

Success seemed at last to have been reached, and now the problem was, first, how to obtain means to build machines, and second, how to persuade printers to use them. The first of these was the easier, although no slight task; the second was one of great difficulty. The field for the machine then in sight was the newspaper, and the newspaper must appear daily. The old method of printing from founder's type, set for the most part by hand, was doing the work; a revolutionary method by which the type was to be made and set by machine, although promising great economies, was a dangerous innovation and one from which publishers naturally shrank. They could see the fate which awaited them if they adopted the new system and it proved unsuccessful. However, a number of newspaper men, after a careful investigation of the whole subject, determined to make the trial; and the leaders of these were Whitelaw Reid of the New York Tribune, Melvin Stone of the Chicago News (to whom succeeded Victor F. Lawson), and Walter N. Haldeman of the Louisville Courier-Journal. Into these offices, then, the Linotype went. To Mr. Reid belongs the honor of giving the machine a name—line of type—Linotype, and of first using it to print a daily newspaper. Of the machine last described, two hundred were built, but before they were half marketed, the ingenious Mergenthaler presented a new form, which showed so great an advance that it was perforce adopted, and the machines then in use, although they gave excellent results, were in course of time displaced. The new machine did away with the air blast, the matrices being carried to the assembling point by gravity from magazines to be hereafter described, and the distributing elevator was displaced by an "arm" which lifted the lines of matrices, after the casting process, to the top of the machine to be returned to their places.

The improvements made in the Linotype since Mergenthaler's time (who died in 1899 at the early age of forty-five) have been very great; indeed, almost a new machine has been created in doing what was necessary to adapt it to the more and more exacting work which it was called upon to perform in the offices of the great American book publishers. These improvements have been largely the work of, or the following out of suggestions made by, Philip T. Dodge, the patent attorney of the parties interested in the enterprise from the beginning, and later the president of the Mergenthaler Linotype Company. They went on year after year under the supervision of a corps of gifted mechanical experts, the chief of whom was John R. Rogers, the inventor of the Typograph, until from the machine of Mergenthaler, supplying through its ninety keys as many characters, a machine appeared yielding three hundred and sixty different characters from the like keyboard. The magazines, too, were capable of being charged with matrices representing any face from Agate (5-point) to English (14-point), and even larger faces for display advertising and for initial letters, by special contrivances which cannot be described without carrying this article beyond reasonable limits. Among the ingenious devices added are: the Rogers systems of setting rule and figure tables, box heads, etc.; the reversal of the line so as to set Hebrew characters in their proper relation; the production of printers' rules of any pattern; the making of ornamental borders; a device for the casting of the same line an indefinite number of times from one setting. The machine was also greatly simplified in its construction.

The amount of money expended in the enterprise before the point of profit was reached was very great; it aggregated many millions of dollars; but the promoters had faith in the success of the machine and taxed themselves ungrudgingly. Among those who contributed largely to the ultimate result by substantial aid and wise counsel in the conduct of the business the name of D. O. Mills should be particularly mentioned.

It was Mergenthaler's great good fortune to have had as his supporters many men of the character of those mentioned above, and in thus being relieved of all financial anxiety and permitted to work out thoroughly and without delay every idea that suggested itself either to him or to the ingenious men who had been drawn into the enterprise. His profits, too, were proportionate to the company's success, and although he did not live to enjoy them for his natural term of years, he had the satisfaction of knowing that a handsome income would continue to flow into the hands of his wife and children.

The company's principal works are situated in the Borough of Brooklyn, New York City, and have a space devoted to manufacturing purposes of about one hundred and sixty thousand square feet. Approximately one hundred Linotypes, besides a large number of smaller machines and a vast quantity of supplies, are turned out from there every month; but the growing demand from abroad for American-built machines has led to the consideration of plans for an entirely new establishment, to be built in accordance with the latest modes of factory construction. About ten thousand Linotypes are now in daily use.

The machine as at present built is shown in part by the accompanying cut, and its operation may be briefly described as follows:—

The Linotype machine contains, as its fundamental elements, several hundred single matrices, which consist of flat plates of brass having on one edge a female letter or matrix proper, and in the upper end a series of teeth, used for selecting and distributing them to their proper places in the magazine. These matrices are held in the magazine of the machine, a channel of it being devoted to each separate character, and there are also channels which carry quads of definite thickness for use in tabular work, etc. The machine is so organized that on manipulating the finger keys, matrices are selected in the order in which their characters are to appear in print, and they are assembled in line side by side at the point marked G in the illustration, with wedge-shaped spaces between the words. This series of assembled matrices forms a line matrix, or, in other words, a line of female type adapted to form a line of raised printed characters on a slug which is cast against them. After the matrix line has been composed, it is automatically transferred to the face of a slotted mould, as shown at K, and while in this position the wedge spaces are pushed up through the line, and in this manner exact and instantaneous justification is secured. Behind the mould there is a melting pot, M, heated by a flame from a gas or oil burner, and containing a constant supply of molten metal. The pot has a perforated mouth which fits against and closes the rear side of the mould, and it contains a pump plunger mechanically actuated. After the matrix line is in place against the front of the mould, the plunger falls and forces the molten metal through the mouth pot into the mould, against and into the characters in the matrix line. The metal instantly solidifies, forming a slug having on its edge raised characters formed by the matrices. The mould wheel next makes a partial revolution, turning the mould from its original horizontal position to a vertical one in front of an ejector blade, which, advancing from the rear through the mould, pushes the slug from the latter into the receiving galley at the front. A vibrating arm advances the slugs laterally in the galley, assembling them in column or page form ready for use. To insure absolute accuracy in the height and thickness of the slugs, knives are arranged to act upon the base and side faces as they are being carried toward the galley. After the matrices have served their purpose in front of the mould, they are shifted laterally until the teeth in their upper ends engage the horizontal ribs on the bar R; this bar then rises, as shown by the dotted lines, lifting the matrices to the distributor at the top of the machine, but leaving the wedge spacers, I, behind, to be shifted to their box, H. The teeth in the top of each matrix are arranged in a special order, according to the character it contains, the number or relation of its teeth differing from that of a matrix containing any other character, and this difference insures proper distribution. A distributor bar, T, is fixed horizontally over the upper end of the magazine and bears on its lower edge longitudinal ribs or teeth, adapted to engage the teeth of the matrices and hold the latter in suspension as they are carried along the bar over the mouths of the magazine channels by means of screws which engage their edges. Each matrix remains in engagement with the bar until it arrives at the required point, directly over its own channel, and at this point for the first time its teeth bear such relation to those on the bar that it is permitted to disengage and fall into the channel. It is to be particularly noted that the matrices pursue a circulatory course through the machine, starting singly from the bottom of the magazine and passing thence to the line being composed, thence in the line to the mould, and finally back singly to the top of the magazine. This circulation permits the operations of composing one line, casting from a second, and distributing a third, to be carried on concurrently, and enables the machine to run at a speed exceeding that at which an operator can finger the keys. A change from one face of type to any other is effected by simply drawing off one magazine and substituting another containing the face required, so that the variety of faces needs to be limited only by the number of them which the printer chooses to carry in his stock.

A Linotype Matrix.

Diagram of the Linotype Machine.

Linotype Slugs.

The Linotype Melting Pot and Mold Wheel.

Matrices are also made bearing two characters, as the ordinary body character and the corresponding italics, or a body character and a small capital or a black face, and either of these is brought into use as desired by the touching of a key, so that if, for instance, it is required to print a word in italics or black face at any part of the line being composed, it is effected in this way, and composition in the body letter is resumed by releasing the key.

The latest pattern of machine is supplied with two magazines, superimposed one above the other, each with its own distributing apparatus. The operator can elect, by moving a lever, from which magazine the letter wanted will fall—the same keyboard serving for both. It is thus possible to set two sizes of type from one machine, each matrix showing two characters as described above.[Back to Contents]

COMPOSITION BY THE MONOTYPE MACHINE
By Paul Nathan

Though for more than half a century machines adapted for the setting of type have been in use, it is only within a few years that the average printer of books has been enabled to avail himself of the services of a mechanical substitute for the hand compositor. The fact seems to be that despite the ingenuity that was brought to bear upon the problem, the pioneer inventors were satisfied to obtain speed, with its resultant economy, at the expense of the quality of the finished product. Thus, until comparatively recently, machine composition was debarred from the establishments of the makers of fine books, and found its chief field of activity in the office of newspaper publishers and others to whom a technically perfect output was not essential so long as a distinct saving of time and labor could be assured. Thanks, however, to persistent effort on the part of those inventors who would not be satisfied until a machine was evolved which should equal in its output the work of the hand compositor, the problem has been triumphantly solved, and to-day the very finest examples of the printed book owe their being to the mechanical type-setter.

The claim is made for one of these machines, the monotype, that, so far from lowering the standard of composition, its introduction into the offices of the leading book printers of the world has had the contrary effect, and that it is only the work of the most skilful hand compositor which can at every point be compared with that turned out by the machine. The fact that the type for some recent books of the very highest class, so-called "editions de luxe," has been cast and set by the monotype machine would seem to afford justification for this claim, extravagant as at first glance it may appear.

The monotype machine is, to use a Hibernicism, two machines, which, though quite separate and unrelated, are yet mutually interdependent and necessary the one to the other. One of these is the composing machine, or keyboard, the other the caster, or type-founder. To begin with the former: this is in appearance not unlike a large typewriter standing upon an iron pedestal, the keyboard which forms its principal feature having two hundred and twenty-five keys corresponding to as many different characters. This keyboard is generally placed in some such position in the printing office as conduces to the health and comfort of the operator, for there is no more noise or disagreeable consequence attendant on its operation than in the case of the familiar typewriter, which it so markedly resembles.

It has been said that the machines are interdependent; yet they are entirely independent as to time and place. The keyboard, as a matter of fact, acts as a sort of go-between betwixt the operator and the casting-machine, setting the latter the task it has to perform and indicating to it the precise manner of its performance. A roll of paper, which as the keyboard is operated continuously unwinds and is rewound, forms the actual means of communication between the two machines. The operator, as he (or she, for in increasing numbers women are being trained as monotype operators) sits facing the keyboard, has before him, conveniently hanging from an adjustable arm, the "copy" that has to be set in type. As he reads it he manipulates the keys precisely as does an operator on a typewriter, but each key as it is depressed, in place of writing a letter, punches certain round holes in the roll of paper. Enough keys are depressed to form a word, then one is touched to form a space, and so on until just before the end of the line is reached (the length of this line, or the "measure," as it is termed, has at the outset been determined upon by the setting of an indicator) a bell rings, and the operator knows that he must prepare to finish the line with a completed word or syllable and then proceed to justify it. "Justification," as it is termed, is perhaps the most difficult function of either the hand or the machine compositor. On the deftness with which this function is discharged depends almost entirely the typographic excellence of the printed page. To justify is to so increase the distance between the words by the introduction of type-metal "spaces" as to enable the characters to exactly fill the line. To make these spaces as nearly equal as possible is the aim of every good printer, and in proportion as he succeeds in his endeavor the printed page will please the eye and be free from those irregularities of "white space," which detract from its legibility as well as from its artistic appearance.

The Monotype Keyboard.

The Monotype Caster.

That the monotype should not only "justify" each line automatically, but justify with a mathematical exactness impossible of attainment by the more or less rough-and-ready methods of the most careful human type-setter is at first thought a little bewildering. The fact remains, however, that it does so, and another triumph is to be recorded for man's "instruments of precision."

Monotype justification is effected as follows: an ingenious registering device waits, as it were, on all the movements of the operator, with the result that when he has approached as close to the end of the line as he dare go, he has merely to glance at a cylindrical dial in front of him. The pointer on this dial signifies to him which of the "justifying keys" he must depress. He touches them in accordance therewith, and the line is justified, or rather it will be justified when, as will be seen later on, the casting machine takes up its part of the work. That is the outward manifestation; it remains to be seen in what manner the machine accomplishes its task. Firstly, the machine automatically notes the exact width of the space left over at the line's end; then, also automatically, it records the number of spaces between the words already set which form the incompleted line; finally, it divides the residuary space into as many parts as there are word-spaces, and allots to each of these one of the parts. Thus if there is one-tenth of an inch to spare at the end of the line and ten word-spaces, then one-hundredth of an inch added to each of these spaces will justify the line with mathematical accuracy. But the machine will do something more wonderful than this. It will separately justify separate parts of the same line. The utility of this is comprehended when it is pointed out that when the "copy" to be set consists of what is technically termed "tabular" matter, the various columns of figures or so forth composing it are not composed vertically but horizontally and so each section must of necessity be justified separately.

Should the compositor be required to "over-run illustrations," as the term goes, in other words to leave a space in which the "block" for a cut may be inserted, so that it may have type all around it or on one side of it only, the machine offers no difficulty at all. All that the operator has to do in this case is to carry the composition of each line as far as necessary and then complete it with a row of "quads," or spaces. Thus, when the composition is cast by the casting-machine the space into which the block is to fit is occupied by a square of "quads." These have only to be lifted out, the block inserted, and the trick is done.

We will then imagine that the operator has finished his task. Of the bank of two hundred and twenty-five keys in front of him (the equivalent of a full "font" of type, with figures, italics, and symbols complete), he has depressed in turn those necessary to spell out the words of his copy, he has put a space between the words he has justified in accordance with the dictates of the justifying dial, has arranged the spaces for the insertion of blocks or illustrations, and as the result of his labors he has merely a roll of perforated paper not unlike that which operates the now familiar pianola or piano-player. Yet this roll of paper is the informing spirit, as it were, of the machine. Its production is the only portion of the work of the monotype for which a human directing agency is necessary, every other function being purely automatic.

The roll of perforated ribbon is lifted off the keyboard and put in place on the casting-and setting-machine. As it is swiftly unwound it delivers to the casting-machine the message with which the operator has charged it. Through the perforations he has made compressed air is forced. Now, as has been explained, the holes correspond to the characters or typographic symbols of the "copy," and the jet of air forced through them sets in motion the machinery, which controls what is known as the "matrix-case," a rectangular metal frame about five inches square, which contains two hundred and twenty-five matrices, or little blocks of hardened copper, each one of which is a mould corresponding to a character on the keyboard. This frame is mounted horizontally on a slide, which by an ingenious mechanical movement brings any one of the two hundred and twenty-five matrices over what is termed the mould. The particular matrix thus placed in position is determined by those particular holes punched in the paper ribbon at the keyboard, through which the compressed air is at that precise moment being forced.

The mould referred to is closed by the matrix, a jet of molten metal is forced in, and in an instant the type is cast, its face being formed by the matrix, its body or shank by the mould. The cast type is ejected and takes its place in the galley, to be followed by another and that by yet others in their regular rotation. It must, however, be pointed out that the composition emerges from the machine hind part foremost and upside down as it were. This enables the justification holes, which were originally punched at the end and not at the beginning of each line, to direct the proper casting of the spaces in the lines to which they correspond.

It will be seen, therefore, that the casting portion of the monotype machine is actually automatic. It performs all its operations without human assistance or direction. Occasionally it will stop of its own accord and refuse to work, but this merely means that it has found something amiss with the perforated instructions, a mistake as to the length of a line or so forth, and it refuses to continue until the workman in charge of it puts the error right, then it starts on again and continues on its even course, casting letters and spaces and punctuation marks, and arranging them first in words, then in lines, next in paragraphs, and finally in a column on the galley.

The casting-machine works at so high a rate of speed (casting from one hundred and forty to one hundred and fifty characters per minute) that it can in its output keep well ahead of the operator on the keyboard. This, however, so far from being an inconvenience or leading to any loss of time, is an advantage, for four casting-machines, which can easily be looked after by one man and a boy, can cope with the work of five keyboard operators, or if all are engaged on the same character of composition two casters can attend to the output of three keyboards. This suggests a reference to the facilities offered by the machine for the production of matter composed in various faces of type. The machine casts practically all sizes in general use from five-point, or "pearl," to fourteen point, or "English." Owing to the number of characters included in the matrix-case, it can at the same time set upper and lower case, small capitals, and upper and lower case italics, or any similar combination of two or even three different faced alphabets. To change from one complete set of matrices to another is a simple operation, performed in about a minute of time, while the changing of mould, which insures a corresponding change in the size of the "body" of the type, takes about ten minutes.

To return, however, to the perforated roll of paper, which it must be imagined has passed entirely through the casting-machine and has been automatically re-rolled. Its present function has come to an end, and it is now lifted out of its position on the machine and placed away for future reference in a drawer or cabinet. This is a by no means unimportant feature of the Monotype, for it is thus no longer necessary to preserve the heavy, cumbrous, and expensive "plates" of a book in anticipation of a second edition being called for at some future time. As a matter of fact, indeed, "plates," or electrotypes of monotyped matter, are by no means a necessity. Many thousand impressions can with safety be printed from the types themselves, and these latter at the conclusion of the job can be remelted and new type cast from the resultant metal. The paper rolls, occupying but a few square inches of space, can be kept, and when the time arrives may be passed through the casting-machine again, to supply a new printing surface identical in every respect with the original.

But the galley of monotyped composition has been waiting during this digression. It is lifted off the machine by the attendant and a rough proof pulled, which is corrected by the proof-reader. The advantage of the individual types is then apparent, for the composition is corrected and otherwise handled precisely as would be the case had the matter been set entirely by hand. Indeed, the operation consumes even less time, for the discarded characters, instead of being placed back carefully in their proper compartments in the case for future use, are merely thrown aside by the corrector, to find their way eventually into the melting pot. It may be added, however, that the Monotype itself furnishes the types used in the correction of its matter—"sorts," as they are termed by the printer. These are cast by the machine during the times when it is not employed upon more important work.

Indeed, an attachment has recently been added to the machine, whereby its use as a type-caster is still further extended. As has been mentioned, the machine casts and composes type of any sized face, from five to fourteen point. With, however, the attachment referred to, it can now cast for the use of the hand compositor complete fonts of type up to and including thirty-six point in size, so that an entire book, title-page included, nowadays often owes its typographical "dress" to the ingenious machine known as "The Lanston Monotype."[Back to Contents]

PROOF-READING
By George L. Miller

When part of a book has been set up in type, in what is called "galley form," an impression is taken, technically known as "first proof," and this proof is handed to the proof-reader. This long-suffering individual lives in a chronic state of warfare with the compositors on the one hand and the author on the other. His first duty is to see that the proof agrees with the author's manuscript, that nothing has been omitted, and nothing inserted that is not in the copy. He must see, further, that the spelling, punctuation, capitalization, grammar, and so forth, are correct, and the book set according to the "style" ordered. He first of all, therefore, compares the proof with the manuscript, or an assistant reads the manuscript aloud, the proof-reader listening intently for any variation from the proof before him and marking any errors he may find.

Now this seems easy enough, and if every author prepared his copy carefully, so that there could be no possible mistake as to his meaning, nothing would be easier; but in practice a number of questions arise which would never be thought of by an outsider. On a new work being put in hand, some half-dozen compositors are given a few sheets of copy apiece, and if the proof-reader happens to be readily accessible he is bombarded within the first half-hour or so with, "How am I to spell centre?" "Has travelling one or two l's?" "Shall I capitalize the word State?" "Shall I spell out two hundred?" "Do you want ships' names in Italic?" and so on and so on. As to punctuation, every compositor thinks he knows better than proof-reader and author combined and follows his own sweet will. As every error on the first proof must be corrected by the compositor at his own expense, here arises the cause of war mentioned in our opening paragraph.

Much has been written about printers' errors and the mistakes of "the intelligent compositor." Aside from those caused by illegible manuscript, mistakes arise from faulty "distribution," that is to say, the type has been thrown into the wrong boxes. Thus we get c for e, h for n, y for p, etc., these boxes being contiguous and the letters of the same thickness; if, for instance, the compositor picked up u instead of t the difference in thickness would at once be noticed by him and the mistake rectified. Then letters are sometimes set upside down and we find letters of a different "face" which have got into the case by mistake. In type set on machine, errors arise from striking adjacent keys, or some matrix will stick in the channel and make its appearance later, sometimes even in the next line. But the chief source of error is illegible or carelessly prepared manuscript, and to the author's slips of the pen must be added in these days the slips of the typewriter.

It is quite possible for a man to be an expert in astronomy, medicine, or natural history and yet have hazy ideas on spelling and punctuation. "When in doubt use a dash" is an old standing joke, but some authors use dashes all the time, making them do duty for commas, semicolons, and periods. They will write indifferently 4 or four and frequently their capital a's c's, m's, and n's cannot be distinguished from the small letters. They will commence a story telling that the "Captain" did so and so, and lo, on the next page the "captain" sinks into a common noun; and so with "Father," "mother," "Aunt," "uncle," etc. Just see what the story would look like if set according to copy!

Now the proof-reader is expected to rectify all this, thereby drawing on his head the wrath of the compositor, who says "he followed the copy," and occasionally incurring the wrath of the author as well for departing therefrom. Sometimes instructions are given that the author's spelling, punctuation, etc., are to be carefully followed, when of course no question can arise; and the proof-reader will query on the proof submitted to the author anything which does not seem to him to be correct.

The great newspapers and magazines have what they call a "style sheet" for the guidance of their compositors and proof-readers and insist on its being faithfully followed. Only by this means could uniformity in the appearance of the paper be secured. In this style sheet careful and minute directions are given for the use of capital letters, the use of Italic, spelling out of numbers, compound words, etc. In the Government printing-office in Washington they have a style book of some two hundred pages. Some book printing-offices have what they call "the style of the office," which will be followed if no instructions are received from the author to the contrary, while some publishing houses with connections in England insist on English spelling being followed in all their books, as books with American spelling will not sell over there.

Here is an outline of an "office style":—

"Spell and divide words according to Webster's dictionary.

"Capitalize President and all Secretaries of State, Senator, Congressman, Governor, Government (of U.S. or other country), King, Emperor, Republican (and all political parties), all pronouns relating to the Deity, Legislature, State, Nation, Street, Avenue, (Hudson) River.

"Use small capitals for B.C., A.D., A.M., and P.M.

"Use Italics for names of ships, names of characters in plays, names of newspapers and magazines, and all foreign words.

"Use quotation marks for names of books.

"Spell out all numbers under 100.

"Compound co-operate, to-day, to-morrow.

"Use period after per cent., and Roman numerals I. VI., etc.

"Bible references in this style: 2 Kings vii. 29.

"All poetical quotations to be in smaller type than text."

Now, some authors will not accept the above style and insist on one entirely different. Many will accept Webster's spelling but draw the line at theater, which they want spelt theatre, and balk at skillfully and skillful or installment. They will order spelling according to the Standard Dictionary, yet will not accept sulfur, rime, or worshiping. One man wants all his numbers in figures, and another does not like compound words. Still another abhors dashes or colons, or quotation marks, and yet another will not have Italic type used in his work.

So it frequently happens that a proof-reader will have passing through his hands three or four books in entirely different styles, each of which he must bear in mind and conform to if he would avoid trouble. But whatever style be adopted, it is essential that it be strictly adhered to throughout the work; therefore in large printing-offices where there are many proof-readers care is always taken that, however many compositors may be engaged in setting up the work, the same reader handles it from start to finish.

If the proof-reader finds any passages whose meaning is not clear, or sentences of faulty construction, he will call the author's attention thereto. He will also call attention to Biblical or poetical quotations which he may know to be incorrect. Many authors will quote Scripture or poetry from memory, which is found to vary in many respects from the original on verification. And then they complain because "the printer did not set it up right,"—when they are charged for corrections. But why should the compositor bear the expense of correction—or the master-printer for that matter—when the copy was clearly wrong in the first instance? A moment's thought will show the injustice of such a procedure.

From what we have said may be seen the importance of the reading of "first proof." Many offices have the proofs read twice, first without referring to the copy, when the more glaring errors may be corrected at leisure, and then again carefully read by copy. The proofs are then returned to the compositors for correction, each man correcting the portion he set up.

A second proof is now taken which is put in the hands of another proof-reader (or "reviser") for revision. His business is to see that the corrections of the first reader have all been duly made. Should he find any palpable errors that have been overlooked by the first reader, he will call his attention thereto and on approval mark them. It may be necessary to return the proofs again to the compositors for correction, and even a third time. When found to be what is called "clean," they are sent to the author (usually in duplicate) along with the copy.

And now the author sees himself in print, perhaps for the first time. He will notice that his work presents a different appearance from what it did in manuscript. Here and there a passage can be improved, a phrase polished, an idea amplified—the same man will think differently at different times; and lo, here, the stupid printer has made him speak of a marine landscape when he wrote Maine landscape! (That proof-reader must be disciplined.) And here a sentence has been left out which he wrote on the back of his copy and has been skipped by compositor, copy-holder, proof-reader, and reviser alike! Then the queries of the proof-reader must be answered, and a few commas here and there would improve things,—and so he proceeds to mark up his proofs, for all of which corrections he has to pay at so much per hour—second cause of war.

The proofs are now returned to the printer and corrected, and a revise (after passing through the proof-reader's hands) sent to the author, which process may be repeated ad infinitum, until the author gives the order to make up into pages.

The type is now handed over to the "make-up," and inasmuch as his work must be carefully revised by the proof-reader, we may describe it here. Having first of all made a gauge showing the size of the page—supposing the page to be seven inches deep, he will cut a notch in a thin piece of wood showing that size—he must "cast off" or estimate how the pages are going to "break." There must not be any short lines, or "widows" as the printers call them,—that is, the concluding lines of paragraphs which are not full length,—at the heads of pages. The first line of a paragraph should not appear at the bottom of a page (but this rule is more honored in the breach than the observance), and the concluding page of a chapter should not be less than one-quarter page in length. These difficulties are avoided by "saving" a line here and there,—that is, where the last line of a paragraph consists of only one or two words, in squeezing them into the line above, or by "making" lines, which is accomplished by spreading long lines out and driving one or two words over. Any line containing one word only at the end of a paragraph ought to overlap the indention of the first line of the next paragraph. Such a word as "is" or "it" will not do so and should be turned back to the line above. Then again, where cuts or illustrations are inserted in the text a page will sometimes break in the middle of a cut, which, as Euclid says, is impossible, therefore the cut must be moved, sometimes necessitating slight alterations in the text, e.g. "The following illustration" must be altered to "The illustration on the next page," or "The illustration above," as the case may be. And here we may remark that all cuts or illustrations should be made and furnished to the printer in time to be inserted in the first proof. The writer calls to mind an instance where the cuts arrived after the whole book had been made up into pages, necessitating a re-make-up at considerable expense.

Proofs of the pages being furnished to the proof-reader, he first of all compares them with the author's last galley proof to see that nothing has been omitted (frequently lines fall off the ends of galleys), that they are in due sequence and "join up," and that the author's last corrections have been made. He then sees to the pagination, the running heads at top of each page, and sees that the foot-notes have been inserted in the pages where they belong and verifies the reference marks. The author will probably have used the * † ‡ § and they will have been so set up, as they appeared on each page of the original manuscript. But when in type and made up into pages they will probably fall differently, the note bearing the § mark may come on the following page and of course must be altered to an *, a corresponding change being made in the text. A much better plan is to number foot-notes 1, 2, 3 and so on, when no alteration on making-up will be required.

The proof-reader must also look after the "widows" and other matters before mentioned. If the book is set in linotype, the make-up will have been unable to make these changes. He will simply allow the proper space and the changes required will be marked by the proof-reader and a number of pages corrected at a time. This is a point of economy.

All corrections having been made and revised, proofs are submitted to the author for his final approval. The author may find it advisable to make alterations even after his book is made up into pages, necessitating further revises; but everything finally being in order, he gives the order to print or to electrotype.

If the pages are to be electrotyped or made into plates, they are "locked up" in an iron frame called a "chase," two or four together, and proofs are given to the proof-reader for a final reading.

If the book is to be printed from the type, the pages are "imposed" in sheets of eight, sixteen, or thirty-two, so arranged that the folios will be in order when the sheet is folded up. They now make what is called a "form," and a proof of this—known as the "stone proof"—is taken for final reading.

The proof-reader now reads the work all through, looking carefully to the spelling, punctuation, and grammar, as in reading "first proof," and more especially looking out for bad or imperfect letters. If many corrections have been made, the type is very apt to be broken and the spacing between words to become irregular. All imperfect letters must be replaced and bad spacing rectified. Then again, commas, hyphens, periods, and thin letters, such as l, f, or t, are apt to slip out of place at the ends of lines. And here a serious source of error may be mentioned which can be found out only by reading the whole page over. In type set on the linotype machine every line is one solid piece of metal. Any correction to be made involves resetting the whole line. Now the compositor in inserting the new line is very apt to take out a line beginning with the same word, replacing it with the new one, thus making a very serious blunder, and of course the proof-reader or author who sees the next proof has no intimation that the wrong line has been tampered with. On reading the page over, however, it will be noticed that something is wrong, previous proofs can be referred to, and the mistake rectified.

The proofs having been finally read, revised, and marked O. K., the pages are sent to the foundry or to press, as the case may be.

But the proof-reader has not done with them yet. If the book is electrotyped, the plates may turn out faulty; sometimes the type will sink in places under the enormous pressure applied in moulding. It is therefore highly advisable that proofs should be taken of the plates and gone over for imperfections; this may save valuable time later when the book is on the press. Some authors don't mind the expense of making changes in their work even after the pages are cast.

The proof-reader only takes leave of the book when it is on the press and all is ready to go ahead and print. A sheet is submitted to him which he must visé for bad letters, see that nothing has fallen out in transit to the pressroom, and that the pressman has not taken out any cuts to underlay and reinserted them upside down. He will also verify the folios again (if the book is printed from plates this will be the first opportunity of doing so) and see that the pages join up to what has gone before. Here his work ends.[Back to Contents]

PAPER MAKING
By Herbert W. Mason

The word "paper" derives its name from the ancient Greek word "papyrus," the name of the material used in ancient times for writing purposes, and manufactured by the Egyptians from the papyrus plant, and which was, up to the eighth century, the best-known writing material. Probably the earliest manufacturers of paper were the Chinese, who used the mulberry tree and other like plants for this purpose, and may be called the inventors of our modern paper manufacturing, as they have practised the art of paper making for almost two thousand years.

In the ordinary book papers of to-day the materials used are largely rags and wood fibres. "Esparto," a Spanish grass, is used in England to a great extent, but it is too expensive to import to this country, and is, therefore, not used here. Many other materials could be used to advantage, such as "bagasse," the waste material of sugar cane, and corn stalks, both of which make good book paper; also hemp, wild clover, and other plants which have a good fibre.

Only two kinds of rags are used, linen and cotton, of both of which there are several grades. Linen rags make a very strong paper, and are mostly used in manufacturing fine writing papers, ledgers, and covers for books where strength is necessary. Cotton rags may be divided into three distinct kinds, whites, blues, and colors, and these in turn are subdivided into several grades. Most of the blue rags are now imported from Germany, Belgium, and France; none from Japan as formerly. The whites and colors are bought in this country.

Wood fibres are divided into two classes, the harder woods, such as spruce, fir, etc., and the softer, such as poplar, cottonwood, etc. There are three ways of reducing or disintegrating wood fibres: first, by sulphurous acid or bi-sulphite of lime fumes, which gives the name "sulphite fibre"; second, by caustic soda, which is called "soda fibre"; and third, by grinding. The last is usually only used for stock in very low grades of paper, such as newspaper and wrapping paper; it is rarely used for book paper. Many persons think that this ground wood, which is merely spruce ground very fine into pulp, is used in book papers; but if it were, the paper would not last long, and would almost immediately discolor on exposure to light and air. There is a theory that no paper made from wood fibres is lasting, and that therefore high grades of paper for fine books should be made only of rags, but this is erroneous, for wood stock and rag stock nowadays are treated and prepared in the same way, and only practically pure cellulose matter goes into the paper. It would be a different matter, however, if ground wood were used for fine papers, for in this stock the cellulose matter is not separated.

Rags are usually purchased by the paper manufacturer in solid bales, which have been graded into whites, blues, or colors. After being opened, they are thrown into a thrashing machine, which thrashes and shakes out the greater part of the loose dust and dirt. Later, they are sorted more carefully by hand into several grades, according to their colors and cleanliness. All the woollens, gunny, buttons, hooks and eyes, silks, and foreign materials are thrown aside. As the rags are usually too large to be thrown into the boilers to be cooked, they are cut into very small pieces by means of sharp revolving knives, to which they are fed rapidly from an endless belt. When cut, they are packed into a revolving kettle or boiler, called a "rotary," and cooked with caustic soda and lime for several hours, to disintegrate the fibres, separate the cellulose matter, and "start" the colors. The rags, after coming out of the boiler, look very dark, and are all mashed together. They are then thrown into a tub of water and revolved horizontally by means of a large wheel fitted with radial knives, which tear and bruise them while water continually runs in and out, carrying away the dirt. In a few hours the rags look much cleaner, and a small amount of chlorate of lime and sulphuric acid is run in to bleach them white. After having been thoroughly stirred for a while, the stock is run into what is called a drainer, where it is allowed to stand for several hours to drain off as much water as possible. Liquid chloride of lime, which is used for bleaching, and sulphuric acid is then run over the fibre, which in turn is drained and washed off again. By this time the pulp is white enough to be sent to the beaters, to be prepared for the paper machines, and is called "half-stock."

Wood fibres for book papers are usually treated in the same general way as rags. First, the logs are peeled and are cut into suitable lengths to be thrown into a wood chopper and cut up in very small pieces. If the wood is treated by sulphurous acid or bi-sulphite of lime fumes, it is called the "sulphite process"; if by caustic soda, the "soda process." This wood is cooked in large upright kettles called "digesters." In one case the sulphite fumes are allowed to permeate through the wood under a high pressure, and in the other the caustic soda is put in "straight," and the wood is cooked under a high pressure of steam. This is done to dissolve out all the gum and resins, in order to leave the pure cellulose matter. After the cooking is done, the stock has to be bleached in very much the same way as the rags and washed thoroughly before it is ready for the "beaters."

For "beating," the stock is thrown into a large revolving tub. Rag and wood fibre may be mixed in different proportions, according to the grade of the paper wanted. The stock is then washed a little to be sure that it is clean and white. Water at first is mixed in with the fibre until it is so diluted that it will flow freely; then it is beaten for several hours by means of an iron wheel covered with iron or steel knives about one-quarter of an inch thick, which revolves over an iron bed-plate with similar knives. During this beating process, clay is mixed with the stock, mainly to give the paper a well-filled and better appearance, and not, as most people think, to add weight, although this is sometimes an object. Sizing material is also added, which helps to keep the fibres together and hold the ink in printing. If it is desired to give the paper a white shade, a small amount of aniline blue or pink is mixed in; otherwise it is called "natural" or "unblued."

The beating part of the process of paper making is the most important. The stock has to be beaten up so that all the fibres are separated and broken into just the right lengths according to the weight and strength of the paper to be made. The harder the roll is set down on the bed plate, the shorter the fibre will be and vice versa, but if the roll is not put down hard, the stock has to be beaten so much longer.

"Machining" may be divided into five processes:—

First. When the stock leaves the beater it is run into a large "stuff" chest, and is continually being stirred so that it will not be lumpy. By this time the pulp is about as clean as possible and is ready for the paper machines. The first thing to be done on the machine is to dilute the stock with pure water to the consistency of buttermilk, according to the thickness of the paper required. Then this liquid stock runs through what are called "sand settlers," which are supposed to collect what dirt, iron, etc., remain.

Second. From the sand settlers the stock runs on to a screen, through which it is drawn by means of suction. This process prevents fibres which are lumpy and too long from getting on to the machine, and allows only those of a certain size and length to go forward to be made into paper. An endless and very fine wire cloth, which is continually moving at the same rate of speed as the rest of the paper machine, takes the stock after it has been screened. This is the first step toward making the material into actual paper. Thick rubber straps on each side of the wire determine the width of the paper. This wire shakes a little in order to weave the fibres together while in a state of suspension. At this period the stock looks like thick cream, but soon changes its appearance to the form of a sheet more or less solid on coming to the end of the wire, where there is what is called a "dandy,"—a roll covered with similar wire cloth pressing lightly on the paper as it runs along the wire. Designs in relief on the surface of this roll produce the well-known marks called "water marks." Just beyond the "dandy," underneath the wire, is a suction box which draws enough of the water out so that the paper can go through the "couch" roll at the end of the wire without being crumbled.

Cross-section of a Paper Machine.

Third. The couch roll is a small hard roll covered with a thick felt called a "jacket," and is used on the paper machine to prevent the paper from being crushed, for it presses out much of the water and flattens the paper so that it will pass from the wire to the felts without breaking and through the press rolls without crushing. From this couch roll the paper leaves the wire and is carried along on an endless woollen felt to the press rolls, which are made of hard rubber, steel, or brass. These rolls press the fibres together well, squeezing out more of the water and flattening the sheet.

Fourth. From the press felts the paper is carried to the "dryer felts," which in turn carry the paper to the "dryers," which revolve and by means of the felt carry the paper along to the next dryer, and so on. The dryers are hollow iron or steel cylinders, heated by means of the exhaust steam from the engines which run the machine. More or less steam is allowed to run into the dryers, according to the quality of paper being made.

Fifth. As soon as the paper has been carried over all the dryers, during which time it becomes, perfectly dry, it is run through a set of so-called steel "chilled rolls," at the end of the machine, which are under pressure and which give the paper a fairly smooth surface for ordinary type printing. If a rough surface is desired, the paper is simply wound on reels from the dryers.

Super-calendered papers are those which have a high finish and smooth surface, and are used for cuts, lithographic work, magazine papers, and ordinary illustrations. To calender paper, it is run through a series of alternate "chilled" and "paper" rolls. The chilled rolls are made of steel and have a very smooth and even surface. The "paper" roll is made of circular discs of thin, but strong manila paper, clamped together on an iron shaft, and then put under hydraulic pressure, this pressure being increased constantly until it reaches one hundred tons of pressure to the inch. The rolls are sometimes kept under this pressure for five or six weeks, and then are turned on a lathe into a true and smooth cylinder, and finally burnished by being revolved against each other.

A "cotton" roll, used at times in place of the "paper" roll, is made in the same manner, except it is made of pieces of cotton cloth instead of thin manila paper. There is a heavy pressure on these rolls, and the paper goes through at a high rate of speed. When an especially smooth surface is wanted, steam is run on the paper as it unwinds, dampening it and giving the web a surface like that on ironed linen.

"Coated" paper is treated differently, being covered with a fine coating, which, after super-calendering, gives the paper a glazed and smooth surface for fine half-tone illustrations. Clay, mixed with casein, the product of skimmed milk, or glue, is the chief material used for coating. It is put on the paper by means of large brushes. Then it is dried by fans and passed through a long passageway heated by steam to a high temperature. After being reeled, it is allowed to stand for a while to harden; then is run several times through the calenders to get the smooth surface. If a high, glazed finish is necessary, steam is put on while running through the calenders. This gives a very bright surface for fine lithographic work. For the best coated papers, instead of clay, sulphate of lime and sometimes sulphate of barium is used, with glue or casein. Formaldehyde, a chemical compound, is used to prevent decomposition in the coating materials; and soda or borax is used to "cut" or dissolve the casein or glue.

If the paper is to be printed "from the web," that is, from the roll, it first has to be trimmed to the correct width, then wound tightly under a high pressure to a certain thickness, then the rolls are packed up in wrapping paper ready to be shipped. Some rolls contain as much as five miles of paper. When the paper is to be put up in sheets, it has to be cut to exactly the correct width and length on the cutting machine. It is all very carefully sorted—the imperfect sheets being thrown out—counted and packed in wooden cases, or done up with strong wrapping paper in bundles, ready to be sent to the printer.[Back to Contents]

PRESSWORK
By Walter J. Berwick

Books are printed in "forms," or sheets, of four, eight, twelve, twenty-four, or thirty-two pages at a time, the number being determined to a great extent by the size of the type page and by the class of the work.

An ordinary twelvemo book, without illustrations in the text, is usually printed in forms of thirty-two pages, on what is known as a single-cylinder flat-bed press, which prints only one side of the paper at an impression. For large editions, the size of the sheet of paper is sometimes doubled and sixty-four pages printed at a time. The class of work in question may also be printed on perfecting presses which print both sides of the paper at one time, and in this way as many as one hundred and twenty-eight pages are frequently printed on one sheet, there being sixty-four pages on each side. Large editions of books having small pages, such as small Bibles, are often printed two hundred and fifty-six pages (one hundred and twenty-eight on each side) at one time.

High grade, illustrated books are always printed on one side of the sheet at a time, the reverse side being printed after the first impression has dried properly. Thus a smooch, or "offset," the result of handling the paper before the ink has become dry, is prevented.

For convenience, I shall describe the process of printing a book from electrotype plates on a press which prints thirty-two pages at a time and on only one side of the paper.

Before ordering his paper, the publisher must first determine the size of the paper page of his proposed book, and from this arrive at the necessary size of the sheets of paper. He must also determine the thickness of the paper needed to give the finished book its proper bulk.

If the book is to be trimmed on top, bottom, and front, about one-eighth of an inch must be allowed on top and front for the binder to trim off, and about one-fourth of an inch on the bottom. The dimensions from back to front, including the amount left for the "trim," should be multiplied by eight; and the page dimension the other way, including the trim, by four. This would give the size of paper needed. As an illustration, if the trimmed size of a book is 7-⁷/8 × 5-³/8 inches, the paper should be 32 × 44 inches. If the book is printed 16 pages at a time, the paper should be 22 × 44; and if 64 pages at a time, 44 × 64.

The quality of the paper and the size of the sheet being decided upon, and the number of pages known, any large paper house can tell the weight necessary to give the required thickness to the book.

On receipt of the printing order, with directions as to whether the book is to be trimmed or not, the printer first makes up what is called a "form" of so-called "patent" blocks on which the stereotype or electrotype plates are placed during the printing of the book. These blocks are made of wood or iron planed to an even thickness of about three-fourths of an inch, so that when an electrotype plate is placed upon one, it will take only a few thicknesses of thin paper between it and the electrotyped page to make the whole "type-high," that is, as high as an ordinary piece of type.

Two adjacent edges of these blocks are bound with strips of brass, which project above the block and are turned over slightly, so as to receive the two bevelled edges of the electrotype plate. The other two edges are provided with movable clamps, which are screwed tight against the flat edges of the electrotype plate by means of ratchets, thus holding the plate firmly in its place.

In practice, the longer of the two brass-bound edges is called the "back" of the block and the shorter one the "head," the other long edge being known as the "front" and the other short edge, the "foot." These terms, as a matter of fact, originated from the use of the same words in describing the printed page of a book, the "back" corresponding with the side of the page next to the binding of the book, the "head" being the top of the book, and so on.

One-half of a set of blocks—thirty-two being a set in this case—are made with the backs on the left and one-half with the backs on the right edge of the block. The common way is to place thirty-two of these blocks, in four rows of eight blocks each, in a "chase," or iron frame, with a cross-bar in the centre. Thus sixteen blocks are on each side of the cross-bar, and all have their backs toward it. The form then appears like this:—

Strips of wood, called "furniture," are then used to fill up the spaces between the blocks, care being taken to see that all the backs, fronts, and heads are in uniform positions. As some people prefer the printed pages of a book to be near the centre of the paper pages, while others like the head and back margins to be much narrower than the margins at the front and foot, the distances between the blocks must be arranged according to the taste of the publisher or the author.

After the blocks have been spaced as desired, and the spaces filled with furniture, the form is "locked up," or tightened securely, with wedge-shaped pieces of iron called "quoins," and it is then placed in position on the bed of the press, securely fastened by screw clamps, and "making ready" for printing is begun.

Notwithstanding the care that has been taken to have all the "patent" blocks and the electrotype plates of even and uniform thickness, there is almost never a case where a form can be put on the press and printed off properly without considerable work being required to make the surface of the plates absolutely flat so that the entire printed part of the page will receive the same amount of ink and will press evenly on the paper.

The first step in making a press "ready" is to place a sheet of heavy cardboard around the cylinder, and over it draw a smooth piece of muslin or cotton cloth. This is called the "packing." In many of the best offices this sheet of heavy cardboard is not used, but in its place is a patent make-ready called "Tympalyn."

Over this a thick sheet of manila paper is shrunk, it being pasted under clamps on the front of the cylinder, and carried around and fastened to hooks on a rod on the back. The rod is then turned until the sheet is perfectly tight and smooth.

While the pressman is laying out his plates the feeder should be cutting thin sheets of paper the size of one of the plates. Some of these papers are cut about one inch shorter than the plates for "bevels," and these are pasted on the middle of the full-size pieces. These bevels and the larger "blank" sheets are to go between the plates and the blocks to overcome any variation there may be in the thickness and to make the surface of the form as nearly level as possible. The "bevels" raise the centres very slightly above the edges of the plate, thus reducing the pressure of the cylinder at the points of contact and departure, and saving the plates from wear.

The cylinder being properly packed, and the form of blocks fastened on the press so that the impression of the form will come in the middle of the paper sheets, it is necessary to know whether the binder is to fold the sheets by hand or by machine, and if the latter, what kind of machine, as different ones require different "imposition" or arrangement of pages. This being decided, the plates are fastened on the blocks so arranged that when the sheet is cut and folded the pages of the book will run consecutively. Before levelling up the form with the bevels and blank sheets, the plates of all open or short pages, if any, are replaced with solid pages, as these sheets and underlay are to remain through the printing of all the forms of the book. The rollers are now put in the press and adjusted to just touch the inking table, the ink put on the rollers and distributed, and one impression printed on one of several sheets of thin paper which are run through the press together.[3] This printed sheet is then turned face down by the pressman and any unevenness of the impression noted. One of the printed pages is taken as a standard and by removing as many pieces of the thin sheets as necessary from under the plates where the impression is too heavy, and by adding where it is not heavy enough, the surface of the form is finally "evened," or made as nearly equal as possible.

After this another impression is taken, and of this sheet an "underlay" is made to further "even up" the form. The low places in the individual plates are carefully marked with crayon or a soft pencil on the impression, and the spots so marked are covered with a piece of thin paper. The printed pages are then cut out a little larger than the type page, and placed under the plates from which they were printed. The plates of the solid pages, which had been substituted for the open pages, are now removed, and the open pages are put back in their places on the form.

Up to this point, all the "making ready" which has been done, is of permanent use in printing all of the forms of the book in question. The work that follows has to be done on each form as it is put on the press.

More thin sheets of paper are now run through the press, the number run through together being one less than were printed for the underlay. These printed sheets are used for "overlays," which are very much like an underlay except that much more care is taken in marking any uneven places. A thinner paper is used to bring up the low places in the plates. An impression of the form is then made on the manila paper sheet which had, as before mentioned, been drawn around the cylinder, and on this printed manila sheet this overlay is pasted, the impression on the manila paper being a guide for the placing of the overlay.

Another overlay is now made in the same way as the first; only it will now be found, if the work has been properly done, that there will be only a few spots to be covered with tissue. After this overlay has been made and the necessary pieces pasted over the first one, a thin sheet of manila is smoothly and tightly drawn around the cylinder, covering completely the thick manila sheet with the pasted overlays on it. The form is then ready to print.

While the feeder, as the man who feeds the paper into the press is called, has been "filling in" the overlay, the pressman should have been getting "register,"—that is, moving the plates so that the headlines and the sides of the plates align properly, and that when both sides of the paper have been printed, the pages will exactly back each other. The ink fountain should also have been so regulated by means of thumb-screws that the right amount of ink will run on the rollers and be distributed evenly over the form. Where too much ink shows on the printed sheet, the thumb-screws on the fountain are tightened a little, to decrease the flow, and where not enough ink shows the thumb-screws are loosened to increase its flow. This process is repeated until the "color" is all right. The grippers, which seize and carry the sheets of paper through the press, the reels, cylinder bands, and many other things have also to be adjusted. These cannot well be described, but have to be learned by actual experience.

The "making ready" and watching the sheets as they come from the press to see that the "color" does not vary, is the skilful part of the process. The feeding can be done by a bright boy after a few weeks' experience, but is now done automatically by machines to a great extent.

While the press was being made ready, another set of men in charge of the paper have taken it out of the cases or bundles, counted out the number of sheets required for each form, piled it on hand trucks, keeping that required for each form separate, and have delivered it to the press. If a machine feeder is used, the paper is piled on the elevator of the feeder, from which it is automatically taken, one sheet at a time, and delivered on endless tapes to gauges on the feed board of the press, thus bringing every sheet in the same position each time. The number of sheets required for the order are printed from one form on one side and then from another form on the other side.

From the preceding it can be seen that to get a press ready may be a matter of hours, while, in the case of ordinary book work, a press generally prints from 1200 to 2000 impressions and more per hour.

The principal difference between making ready a form on a flat-bed perfecting press with two cylinders and on a single-cylinder press is in extra work necessary to obtain correct registering of the plates and in preventing an offset of the fresh ink on the second cylinder. Otherwise, a perfecting press is very much like two cylinder presses joined together. It has two sets of rollers, two ink fountains, two cylinders, two forms, etc., but only one feed board and one delivery. The sheet is fed to one cylinder and printed, taken from this cylinder by the second and printed on the second side, and delivered on the "fly board" ready to go to the shipping department.

The process of making ready forms containing illustrations is practically the same as for plain ones, except that a new underlay is made for each form, and much more care and skill must be used on the cuts themselves. It frequently happens that one or even two days are spent making ready a form of half-tone cuts, before the actual printing, which takes perhaps half a day to do, can be begun.

In most offices, a special "cut overlay" is made for forms with cuts, or illustrations. The cut is placed on a hand press before the form is made up, and proofs on four different thicknesses of paper are made. The heaviest paper is used as a bottom sheet, and the others are pasted on it. Out of the next to the thickest paper of all, the solid blacks are cut and pasted accurately on the same places on the bottom sheet. From the second or next thinner sheet, the medium shades including the solid blacks are cut and pasted on the bottom sheet, thus building up the blacks and strong shadows. From the thinnest sheet of all, the high lights and very light shades are cut, and the rest of the sheet is pasted on the bottom one. In this way the solid blacks and dark shadows on the cut have three thicknesses on the overlay; the next shades two, and the light shades one, where the high lights are cut out altogether. This is the common form of "cut overlay" used in most offices; but there are many other kinds, some being made on metal by chemical action. All kinds are fastened carefully over the impression of the cut made on the heavy manila sheet covering the cylinder, and the cut must not be moved on the form after the overlay has been fastened on the cylinder, or the effect of all the work will be entirely lost.

One of the great troubles which the printer has to contend with, is electricity in the paper. The pressman is unaware of its presence until he lifts a printed sheet from the pile and receives a slight shock, and finds the sheets stick together. In the case of a cut form, the ink is almost sure to be offset, and in printing the second side of the paper the feeder will have to stop frequently to separate the sheets. Much money has been spent and many devices originated to overcome this trouble. Ink manufacturers make a liquid preparation to be applied to the packing. A row of lighted gas-jets placed near the point where the sheet goes on to the "flyboard," a heated steam-pipe, and many other things have been used, but a new device by which electricity is generated and carried into the press, and there neutralizes the electricity in the paper, is the best of them all.

The printed sheets are counted automatically by the press, and as fast as enough accumulate, they are piled on hand trucks and removed to the shipping room. Here they are "jogged up" so that the edges are even and are counted again by hand. If they are to be shipped away, they are tied up in bundles or nailed in cases and marked for shipment. If the bindery is connected with the pressroom, they are simply jogged, counted, and piled on trucks and delivered in this way.[Back to Contents]

THE PRINTING PRESS
By Otto L. Raabe

Throughout the stages of development of the book-printing press the chief object has been to lessen the cost of printing. Whether the direct purpose of an improvement has been to increase the working speed of the press, to lessen the necessary operating power, to simplify the mechanism, to strengthen the parts, to lighten the pressman's labor, or to better the quality of printing, the ultimate aim has always been the same. It has been the constant incentive to invention and the standard for judging the adaptability of a press.

The first printing press was the "wooden screw" press, which came into use about the middle of the fifteenth century, and was built upon the same mechanical principle as the linen presses in the homes of the well-to-do. This was the press used by Gutenberg.

It consisted of two upright timbers held together at the top and the bottom by crosspieces of wood and with two intermediate cross-timbers. One of these intermediate cross-timbers supported a wooden or stone "bed" on which the form of type was placed, and through the other passed a large wooden screw, the lower point of which was attached to the centre of a flat, wooden plate, called the "platen." The lower side of the platen was covered with a soft "packing" or "blanket" of cloth. After the type had been inked, a sheet of paper was laid on it. This paper had previously been dampened so that it would take a better impression of the type. The screw was then turned down until the platen pressed the paper against the inked type, and produced a printed sheet.

The form of type was incased in a frame called a "coffin." These coffins and the type within them were very heavy, but they had to be lifted in and out of the press by hand. After each impression the platen was screwed upward so that the sheet of paper which had been printed could be removed and hung up to dry.

This simple form of press continued in use without material change until the early part of the seventeenth century. The first improvements on it came about 1620, and consisted of a device for rolling in and out the wooden or stone bed on which the type rested instead of lifting it by hand, of a new form of iron hand-lever for turning the screw, and of an iron screw in place of the wooden one. These were the inventions of William Janson Blaeuw, a printer of Amsterdam. Blaeuw's press was introduced into England and used there as well as on the continent. It was substantially the same press as that on which Benjamin Franklin worked when in London in 1735.

After this first type of printing press had been in use for three and a half centuries, a much-improved form was invented by the Earl of Stanhope in 1798. The frame of his press was made of iron, cast in one piece; the bed, the impression plate, or "platen," and the other large parts were also of cast iron, while the working parts were of iron, steel, or brass. The iron impression screw was retained, but connected to it was a combination of levers whereby its power was greatly increased. This enabled the printing of larger forms and the use of a thinner and harder "packing," or "tympan," between the platen and the sheet of paper to be printed, resulting in a sharper and clearer impression. Much less exertion was required to work the lever, and at first, on this account, a printer, who was accustomed to use all his physical force on the old screw press, found it difficult to work on the new one.

This improved style of press was received with so much favor by printers that several persons took up its manufacture, and competition soon reduced its cost and brought it into general use for printing newspapers as well as books. The process of printing remained about the same as in the earlier presses. Two men were required to work it. One spread the ink on a wooden block, rolling over it with two leather-covered balls, about six inches in diameter, stuffed with wool or horsehair, and fastened to round wooden handles. Holding one of these inking balls in each hand, he then rolled one upon the other to distribute the ink evenly over both of them, and applied the ink to the face of the type by rocking the balls over it until the entire form was inked. While this was being done, the other man was placing the sheet of paper on the "tympan." This was a light frame, in two parts, really forming two frames, one inside the other, and both covered with parchment. There was a woollen or felt blanket between them, and the two frames were held together by hooks. The outer frame was hinged at its lower end to the outer end of the bed of the press, and when ready to receive the paper, it stood in a nearly upright position at about right angles to the bed. On the frame were two or four pins, upon which the sheet of paper was impaled.

Attached to the upper end of the inner frame by hinges was a thin and narrow frame, called the "frisket," of the same length and width as the inner tympan frame. This frisket was covered with strong paper in which were openings, cut a little larger than the size of the pages of the type-form. When the sheets of paper had been placed upon the tympan frame, the frisket was folded down upon it, and the two were then turned down over the form of type. The bed was then "run in" under the platen by means of a crank at the side of the press, and the platen was screwed down to make the impression. After the impression had been taken, the platen was screwed up, the bed "run out," the tympan frame and frisket lifted, and the printed sheet taken off.

The introduction of this Stanhope press gave a great impetus to the development of the printing press in other countries as well as in England, and many varieties were devised during the thirty years following. Although as early as 1811 Koenig had made a cylinder press which had proved fairly successful, the better grades of printing could be obtained only by the flat pressure of the hand-presses. In some of these hand presses, the platen, or upper impression plate, was moved into position over the bed and remained stationary while the bed with the type-form upon it was forced upward to make the impression. In others, the platen was hinged to the bed, but in all of them the mechanism was complicated.

The "Columbian" press, devised by George Clymer, of Philadelphia, in 1816, gained considerable distinction both in this country and in England, where it was introduced in 1818. It differed from the Stanhope in that the screw was dispensed with, the platen being depressed by a combination of levers and lifted by the aid of a weighted balance-lever.

The reduction of the hand-lever movement to its simplest and most powerful form is now seen in the Washington hand press, devised by Samuel Rust, of New York, in 1827. His patent was later purchased by R. Hoe & Co., who made nearly seven thousand of these presses in different sizes and still make many of a greatly strengthened pattern for taking fine proofs from photo-engraved plates. Some of these presses made before 1850 are still in use, and occasionally one hears of a Washington hand press being used for printing upon handmade paper an edition of a small and limited number of copies of a book. Of all the hand presses, this is the only one that has survived to the present day.

With the introduction of other means for applying power than the hand-lever, a distinction came to be drawn between printing presses and printing machines. The term "machine" might perhaps be more appropriately used for the huge printing presses of the present day, yet, as the first essential is the impression power, all other features being subordinate, the term "press" is still the proper one to apply, even to the greatest combination of printing units yet devised.

The "bed and platen" system of printing as first used in hand presses occupies such an important place in the history of the book-printing press that a further description of its career is necessary.

In December, 1806, Friedrich Koenig, a Saxon, who later gave to the world the first practical cylinder press, went from Germany to England to seek assistance in carrying out his plans for the construction of a greatly improved printing press, having failed in his efforts in his own country and in Russia. He succeeded in enlisting the support of Thomas Bensley, a London printer, and constructed a press in which all the operations but laying on and taking off of the sheet were performed mechanically.

An accurate description of this press is not extant, but it is known to have consisted of a large wooden frame, a platen worked by a vertical screw and gears, a type-bed drawn forward and backward by means of straps fastened to a large roller underneath the bed, a tympan frame and frisket arranged to open and close automatically with the movement of the bed, and an inking apparatus, consisting of an ink-box with a narrow slit in the bottom through which the ink was forced by a piston upon a roller below, from which it was transmitted by two intermediate rollers to another and lower roller which inked the form as it passed underneath. The two intermediate rollers had an alternating, lateral motion which spread or distributed the ink sideways before it reached the lowest roller.

This press was the first to have ink-distributing rollers and the first to be run by steam power. In April, 1811, the "Annual Register" for 1810 was printed on it by Mr. Bensley at the rate of eight hundred impressions an hour. Nothing further is recorded about this press, and it was probably abandoned as being too complicated.

In the following year, Koenig's first cylinder press was completed, to be followed two years later by an improved cylinder press made for the London Times, which will be referred to farther on.

In his experiments, the Earl of Stanhope had tried, without success, to find a substitute for inking-balls by making rollers covered with different kinds of skins. He also tried other materials, such as cloth, silk, etc., but the unavoidable seam and the impossibility of keeping these materials soft and pliable defeated his purpose. About 1813 inking-rollers made of a composition of glue and molasses came into general use, and this important invention was of great assistance in the further improvement of the printing press.

Other cylinder presses with mechanical inking appliances were devised and patented, the most notable of which were those of Rutt, Bacon, Cowper, Applegath, and Napier, but the mechanical imperfections of these presses unfitted them for the better grades of book printing.

Further efforts were, therefore, directed to increasing the output of the bed and platen presses by the application of improved inking devices, sheet-feeding, and impression mechanisms. About 1825 there was constructed by D. Napier, a machinist in London, a press containing such appliances which produced six to seven hundred impressions an hour. Other presses constructed upon the same principle, but with two type-beds, two sets of friskets, two inking mechanisms—and only one platen, in the centre of the press—were made by Hopkinson & Cope and by Napier, and were known as "double platen machines," though this is really a misnomer as there was only one platen.

Napier's invention achieved the greatest popularity and came into general use. At each end of his press there was an inking device, a type-bed, and a frisket, each set of which operated alternately with the other, but either could be made inoperative if the "feeder," or "layer-on," failed to place the sheet in time. Four boys, besides the printer, were required—two to lay on, and two to take off the sheets.

When the type-bed and the frisket carrying the sheet of paper were in position under the platen, the latter was drawn downward to make the impression by means of a "toggle" joint which acted upon two strong rods, one on each side, and was then raised again by a counterbalance weight. Owing to the awkward method of handling the paper, the working speed of the press was necessarily slow, and the size of the sheets limited to double royal, or 25 × 40 inches.

The best presses of this type were those devised and patented by Isaac Adams, of Boston, in 1830 and 1836, and by Otis Tufts, also of Boston, in 1834. R. Hoe & Co., of New York, acquired Adams' business in 1858 and continued the manufacture of his presses. Over one thousand in many different sizes were made by this firm, the largest printing a sheet 33 × 46 inches at a working speed of one thousand impressions an hour. The last Adams press was made in 1882, but quite a number are still in use in prominent printing-offices in New York, Boston, and a few other cities, where the results on fine book work are still considered better than from the faster cylinder presses. The mechanical principle employed in the Adams press for exerting a flat, parallel pressure has now been generally adopted for heavy stamping and embossing presses.

To go back to the early part of the nineteenth century, when Koenig found his bed and platen press impracticable, he immediately set to work, assisted by one of his countrymen, Andreas Bauer, a mechanic who had helped him formerly, and in the latter part of 1812, the first flat-bed cylinder press was erected by them in Bensley's office. The cylinder of this press had three impression surfaces with spaces between them, and each covered with a soft blanket. With each forward movement of the type-bed the cylinder made one-third of a revolution and then came to a standstill, while the bed returned to its starting-point. The spaces between the impression surfaces allowed the type-form to pass under the cylinder without touching the blankets. At the end of the cylinder and at equal distances along its circumference were hinged three frisket frames, each fitted with tapes having reel springs at one end. The frisket frame of the uppermost impression surface rested in a vertically inclined position against the high framework of the inking mechanism. The sheet of paper was placed upon the blanket, and the cylinder then turned forward, drawing the frisket frame down with it, while the tapes, kept taut by the reel springs, adjusted themselves to the curvature of the cylinder and held the sheet upon it. After one-third of a revolution, the cylinder came to a stop to let the type-bed return. On the next forward movement of the bed and the next one-third of a revolution of the cylinder, the impression was made, and on the next repetition of these movements, the sheet was taken off by hand, and the cylinder returned to its original position to have another sheet placed on the first frisket. At every complete revolution of the cylinder and three complete reciprocating movements of the bed, three sheets were printed.

The inking mechanism was similar to that employed on the bed and platen press, but the mechanism for forcing the ink through the slit in the bottom of the fountain was improved. The inking-rollers were covered with leather as before. The type-bed was moved by a very ingenious mechanism which is in use even at the present time, and is described farther on, when the two-revolution press is mentioned. The different parts were not connected with each other, the cylinder, the type-bed, the inking-rollers, and the fountain being operated independently by separate driving mechanisms. This press printed eight hundred sheets an hour, on one side. A part of Clarkson's "Life of William Penn" was printed on this press, and was the first book ever printed on a cylinder press.

Printers and publishers were sceptical as to the practical value of this novel invention, but Mr. John Walter, the proprietor of the London Times, with better foresight than the others, and needing increased facilities for printing his paper, contracted for two presses, each to have two impression cylinders. These were constructed for him with great secrecy in a building adjoining the pressroom of the Times, and on November 28, 1814, the entire edition of that paper was printed on them,—the first cylinder presses driven by steam power.

The mechanical principles were the same as in the first cylinder press. There were two impression cylinders, but only one type-bed, and the latter had, therefore, to travel a greater distance than in the single-cylinder press. This made it impossible to obtain quite double the output of the single-cylinder press, but each of these new presses produced eleven hundred impressions an hour, a very respectable performance for that early stage. The threefold motion of the cylinders was retained, but the frisket frames were displaced, and tapes running over rollers and underneath the cylinders held the sheets against the impression surfaces. An improvement was also made in the inking mechanism by the addition of an intermediate roller between the fountain and the upper distributing cylinder roller.

The next step in advance was the construction of the first of the so-called perfecting presses, which was patented, December 24, 1814, and erected in Mr. Bensley's office in 1815 or 1816. This press had two type-beds and two impression cylinders, one of each near either end of the press. The cylinders instead of having a threefold motion revolved continuously. The circumference of each corresponded approximately to the distance traversed by one of the beds. The part of the cylinder which made the impression was a little larger in diameter than the remainder, the low portion giving the necessary room for the type-bed to return without touching it. The board from which the sheets were "fed" was near the centre of the press, and at the top adjoining the feed board was an endless belt made of cloth as wide as the board and running with an intermittent motion over two rollers.

The sheet of paper was laid upon this belt, which then moved forward, carrying the sheet between the tapes and leading it to the top of, down and around, the first cylinder where it received the first impression. Thence the sheet was conveyed by the tapes to the top of and around the second impression cylinder and was printed on the reverse side, that is "perfected," and it was then taken from the lower side of the second cylinder by hand and laid upon a board in the centre of the press, between the two impression cylinders and underneath the feed board. This press printed both sides of a sheet 21 × 34-½ inches at a speed of nine hundred to one thousand an hour.

The Building of a Book / A Series of Practical Articles Written by Experts in the Various Departments of Book Making and Distributing

THE BUILDING OF A BOOK

FOREWORD

ARTICLES AND CONTRIBUTORS

THE BUILDING OF A BOOK

INTRODUCTIONBy Theodore L. De Vinne

THE AUTHORBy George W. Cable

THE LITERARY AGENTBy Paul R. Reynolds

THE LITERARY ADVISERBy Francis W. Halsey

THE MANUFACTURING DEPARTMENTBy Lawton L. Walton

THE MAKING OF TYPEBy L. Boyd Benton

HAND COMPOSITION AND ELECTROTYPINGBy J. Stearns Cushing

COMPOSITION BY THE LINOTYPE MACHINEBy Frederick J. Warburton

COMPOSITION BY THE MONOTYPE MACHINEBy Paul Nathan

PROOF-READINGBy George L. Miller

PAPER MAKINGBy Herbert W. Mason

PRESSWORKBy Walter J. Berwick

THE PRINTING PRESSBy Otto L. Raabe

INTRODUCTION
By Theodore L. De Vinne

THE AUTHOR
By George W. Cable

THE LITERARY AGENT
By Paul R. Reynolds

THE LITERARY ADVISER
By Francis W. Halsey

THE MANUFACTURING DEPARTMENT
By Lawton L. Walton

THE MAKING OF TYPE
By L. Boyd Benton

HAND COMPOSITION AND ELECTROTYPING
By J. Stearns Cushing

COMPOSITION BY THE LINOTYPE MACHINE
By Frederick J. Warburton

COMPOSITION BY THE MONOTYPE MACHINE
By Paul Nathan

PROOF-READING
By George L. Miller

PAPER MAKING
By Herbert W. Mason

PRESSWORK
By Walter J. Berwick

THE PRINTING PRESS
By Otto L. Raabe