and trenail mode of
building in a wood-based technology; at the same time its near cousin,
the wheelwright's reamer, suggested the reliance upon a transport
dependent upon wooden hubs. The auger in its perfected form--fine steel,
perfectly machined, and highly finished--contrasted with an auger of
earlier vintage will clearly show the advance from forge to factory, but
will indicate little new in its method of use or its intended purpose.

Persons neither skilled in the use of tools nor interested in technical
history will find that there is another response to the common auger, as
there was to the upholsterer's hammer, the 18th-century brace, or the
saw with the custom-fitted grip. This is a subjective reaction to a
pleasing form. It is the same reaction that prompted artists to use
tools as vehicles to help convey lessons in perspective, a frequent
practice in 19th-century art manuals. The harmony of related parts--the
balance of shaft and handle or the geometry of the twist--makes the
auger a decorative object. This is not to say that the ancient
woodworker's tool is not a document attesting a society's technical
proficiency--ingenuity, craftsmanship, and productivity. It is only to
suggest again that it is something more; a survival of the past whose
intrinsic qualities permit it to stand alone as a bridge between the
craftsman's hand and his work; an object of considerable appeal in which
integrity of line and form is not dimmed by the skill of the user nor by
the quality of the object produced by it.

In America, this integrity of design is derived from three centuries of
experience: one of heterogeneous character, the mid-17th to the
mid-18th; one of predominately English influence, from 1750 to 1850; and
one that saw the perfection of basic tools, by native innovators,
between 1850 and the early 20th century. In the two earlier periods, the
woodworking tool and the products it finished had a natural affinity
owing largely to the harmony of line that both the tool and finished
product shared. The later period, however, presents a striking contrast.
Hand-tool design, with few exceptions, continued vigorous and functional
amidst the confusion of an eclectic architecture, a flurry of rival
styles, the horrors of the jigsaw, and the excesses of Victorian taste.
In conclusion, it would seem that whether seeking some continuous thread
in the evolution of a national style, or whether appraising American
contributions