brass hand, giving it its final shape and finish.]

Now comes the sewing. Count the pieces in a glove, and this will give
some idea of the work needed to sew them together. Notice that the
fourchettes are sewed together on the wrong side, the other seams on
the right side, and that the tiny bits of facing and lining are hemmed
down by hand. Notice that two of the fingers have only one fourchette,
while the others have two fourchettes each. Notice how neatly the ends
of the fingers are finished, with never an end of thread left on the
right side. The embroidery must be in exactly the right place, and it
must be fastened firmly at both ends. This embroidery is not a
meaningless fashion, for the lines make the hand look much more
slender and of a better shape. Sewing in the thumbs needs special care
and skill. There must be no puckering, and the seam must not be so
tightly drawn as to leave a red line on the hand when the glove is
taken off. No one person does all the sewing on a glove; it must pass
through a number of hands, each doing a little. Even after all the
care that is given it, a glove is a shapeless thing when it comes from
the sewing machines. It is now carried to a room where stands a long
table with a rather startling row of brass hands of different sizes
stretching up from it. These are heated, the gloves are drawn upon
them, and in a moment they have shape and finish, and are ready to be
inspected and sold.

The glove is so closely associated with the hand and with the person
to whom the hand belongs that in olden times it was looked upon as
representing him. When, for instance, a fair could not be opened
without the presence of some noble, it was enough if he sent his
glove to represent him. To throw down one's glove before a man was to
challenge him to a combat. At the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, as of
many other sovereigns of England, the "Queen's champion," a knight in
full armor, rode into the great hall and threw down his glove, crying,
"If there be any manner of man that will say and maintain that our
sovereign Lady, Queen Elizabeth, is not the rightful and undoubted
inheritrix to the imperial crown of this realm of England, I say he
lieth like a false traitor, and therefore I cast him my gage."

IV

HOW RAGS AND TREES BECOME PAPER

It was a great day for the children on the farm when the tin peddler
came around. He had a high red wagon, fairly bristling with brooms,
mop-handles, was