where the finest part of the shell is to be
kept for buttons, and the coarser part sent on
to Sheffield, to make the handles of knives,
paper-cutters, and the like.

Through such adventures has this broad
shell gone, which we now hold in our hand.
In the middle is the seamed, imperfect part,
from which the fish was torn. From that
centre; all round to the thin edge, is the fine
part which is to be cut into buttons. From
that centre back to the joint is the ridgy
portion which, with its knots, will serve for
knife-handles. There is, perhaps, no harder
substance known; and strong must be the
machine that will cut it. It is caught and
held with an iron grip, while the tubular saw
cuts it in circles, a quarter of an inch (or
more) thick. Some of the circles are an inch
and a half in diameter; others as small as
the tiny buttons seen on baby-clothes. They
are, one by one, clutched by a sort of pincers,
and held against a revolving cylinder, to be
polished with sand and oil. Then, each is
fixed on a lathe, and turned, and smoothed;
adorned with concentric rings, or with stars, or
leaves, or dots; and then corded or milled at the
edges, with streaks almost too fine to be seen
by the naked eye. The figures in the middle
are to mask the holes by which the button is
to be sewn on. In a small depression, in the
centre of the pattern, the holes are drilled by
a sharp hard point which pierces the shell.
The edges of the holes are sharp, as housewives
well know. But for the cutting of the thread,
in course of time, by these edges, pearl buttons
would wear for ever. Now and then, the thin
pierced bit in the middle breaks out; but,
much oftener, the button is lost by the cutting
of the thread. They last so long, however,
as to make us wonder how there can be any
need of the vast numbers that are made.
Birmingham supplies almost the whole world.
A very few are made at Sheffield; and that
is all. In the United States, where the
merchants can get almost any quantity of the
shell, from their great trade with Manilla and
Singapore, the buttons are not made. The
Americans buy an incredible quantity from
Birmingham. Many thousands of persons in
this town are employed in the business; and
one house alone sends out two thousand gross
per week, and very steadily; for fashion has
little or nothing to do with pearl buttons.
The demand is steady and increasing; and
it would increase much faster but for the
restriction in the quantity of the material.
The profit made by the manufacturer is
extremely small—so dear as the shell is. The
Singapore shell was sold not many years ago
at sixty-five pounds per ton; now, it cannot
be had under one hundred and twenty-two
pounds, ten shillings, per ton. The manufacturer
complains of monopoly. If this be the
cause of the dearness, the evil will, in the
nature of things, be lessened before long.
Time will show whether the shells are
becoming exhausted, like the furs of polar
countries. We ventured to suggest, while
looking round at the pile of shell fragments,
and the heaps of white dust that accumulate
under the lathes, that it seems a pity to
waste all this refuse, seeing how valuable a
manure it would make, if mixed with bone-
dust or guano. The reply was, that it is
impossible to crush a substance so hard; that
there is no machine which will reduce these
fragments to powder. If so, some solvent
will probably be soon found, which will act
like diluted sulphuric acid upon bones. While
we were discussing this matter, and begging
a pint or quart of the powder from under the
lathes, to try a small agricultural experiment
with, a workman mentioned that when he
worked at Sheffield, a neighbouring farmer
used to come, at any time, and at any
inconvenience to himself, to purchase shell-powder,
when allowed to fetch it, declaring it to be
inestimable as a manure. In a place like
Birmingham, where the sweepings and
scrapings of the floors of manufactories are sold
for the sake of the metal dust that may have
fallen, we venture to predict that such heaps
and masses of shell fragments as we saw, will
not long be cast away as useless rubbish. If
one house alone could sell two hundred and
fifty tons of shell-refuse per year, what a
quantity of wheat and roots might be
produced from under the counters, as it were, of
Birmingham workshops! And we were told
that such a quantity would certainly be
afforded. Such a sale may, in time, become
some set-off against the extreme dearness of
the imported shell. While the smallest pearl
button goes through nine or ten pairs of
hands before it is complete, the piece from
which it is cut may hereafter be simmering
in some dissolving acid; and sinking into the
ground, and rising again, soft and green, as
the blade of wheat, or swelling into the bulb
of the turnip. Will not some one try?

While this dust was bubbling out from
under the turning-tools, and flying about
before it settled, we had misgivings about the
lungs of the workmen. But it seems there
was no need. The workman who was
exhibiting his art in the dusty place, told us he
had worked thus for nine-and-twenty years,
and had enjoyed capital health; and truly,
he looked stout and comfortable enough;
and we saw no signs of ill-health among the
whole number employed. The proprietor
cares for them—for their health, their
understandings, their feelings, and their fortunes;
and he seems to be repaid by the spectacle of
their welfare.

The white pearl buttons are not the only
ones made of shells from the Eastern seas.
There is a sort called black, which to our
eyes looked quite as pretty, gleaming as it
did with green and lilac colours, when moved
in the light. This kind of shell comes from
the islands of the Pacific. It is plentiful
round Tahiti, and Hawaii, (as we now call
Otaheite and Owhyhee). It is much worn by