laying in the machinery. My idea was to make so
many guns. The Government asked for four times as many. So we took down
more houses, and built another much larger shop. The work was finished in
ten weeks. Five other large workshops were put up last year, all built
with lightning speed, and everywhere additions have been made to the
machinery in every department wherever it was possible to put machines."

As to their thousands of workmen, Mr. C. has no complaints to make.

"They have been steadily working anything from 60 to 80 hours per week;
the average is 64.29 hours per week, and the average time lost only 3.51
per cent. A little while ago, a certain union put forward a claim for an
advance in wages. We had to decline it, but as the meeting came to an end,
the trade-union secretary said:

"'Of course, we are disappointed, and we shall no doubt return to the
matter again. But whether you concede the advance of wages or not, our
members will continue to do their level best, believing that they are not
only working for themselves, but helping the Government and helping our
soldiers to wage this war to a successful conclusion.'"

And the manager adds his belief that this is the spirit which prevails
"among the work-people generally."

Before we plunge into the main works, however, my guide takes me to see a
recent venture, organised since the war, in which he clearly takes a
special interest. An old warehouse bought, so to speak, overnight, and
equipped next morning, has been turned into a small workshop for shell
production--employing between three and four hundred girls, with the
number of skilled men necessary to keep the new unskilled labour going.
These girls are working on the eight hours' shift system; and working so
well that a not uncommon wage among them--on piece-work, of course--runs
to somewhere between two and three pounds a week.

"But there is much more than money in it," says the kind-faced woman
superintendent, as we step into her little office out of the noise, to
talk a little. "The girls are perfectly aware that they are 'doing their
bit,' that they are standing by their men in the trenches."

This testimony indeed is universal. There is patriotism in this grim
work, and affection, and a new and honourable self-consciousness. Girls
and women look up and smile as a visitor passes. They presume that he
or she is there for some useful purpose connected with the war, and
their expression seems to