as if it were of no more value than cotton. Indeed, it does not look
nearly so pretty and attractive as a lap of pure white cotton, for it
is stiff and gummy and has hardly any luster. Now it is sent to the
manufacturer. It is soaked in hot soapy water for several hours, and
it is drawn between plates so close together that, while they allow
the silk to go through, they will not permit the least bit of
roughness or dirt to pass. If the thread breaks, a tiny "faller," such
as are used in cotton mills, falls down and stops the machine. The
silk must now be twisted, subjected to two or three processes to
increase its luster, and dyed,--and if you would like to feel as if
you were paying a visit to a rainbow, go into a mill and watch the
looms with their smooth, brilliant silks of all the colors that can
be imagined. After the silk is woven, it is polished on lustering
machines, singed to destroy all bits of free fibers or lint, freed of
all threads that may project, and scoured if it is of a light color;
then sold.
[Illustration: _Courtesy Cheney Bros._
HOW SPUN SILK IS MADE
Every manufacturer saves everything he can, and even the waste silk
which cannot be wound on reels is turned into a salable product]
The moth whose cocoon provides most of our silk is called the "bombyx
mori." There are others, however, and from some of these tussah silk,
Yamamai, and Shantung pongee are woven. These wild moths produce a
stronger thread, but it is much less smooth than that of the bombyx.
There is also a great amount of "wood silk," or artificial silk, on
the market. To make this, wood pulp is dissolved in ether and squirted
through fine jets into water. It is soon hard enough to be twisted
into threads and woven. It makes an imitation of silk, bright and
lustrous, but not wearing so well as the silk of the silkworm.
Nevertheless, for many purposes it is used as a substitute for silk,
and many braids and passementeries are made of it. Then, too, there
are the "mercerized" goods, which often closely resemble real silk,
although there is not a thread of silk in them. It was discovered many
years ago that if a piece of cotton cloth was boiled in caustic soda,
it would become soft and thick and better able to receive delicate
dyes. Unfortunately, it also shrank badly. At length it occurred to
some one that the cloth might be kept from shrinking by being
stretched out during the boiling in soda. He was delighted to find
that this process made it more brilliant than many silks.
The threads that fasten the cocoon to the bush and those in the heart
of the cocoon are often used, together with the fiber from any cocoons
through which the worms have made their way out. This is real silk, of
course, but it is made of short fibers which cannot be wound. It is
carded and spun and made into fabric called "spun silk," which is used
extensively for the heavier classes of goods. Then, too, silks are
often "weighted"; that is, just before they are dyed, salts of iron or
tin are added. One pound of silk will absorb two or three pounds of
these chemicals, and will apparently be a heavy silk, while it is
really thin and poor. Moreover, this metallic weighting rubs against
the silk fiber and mysterious holes soon begin to appear. A wise "dry
cleaner" will have nothing to do with such silks, lest he should be
held responsible for these holes. It is this weighting which produces
the peculiar rustle of taffeta; and if women would be satisfied with
a taffeta that was soft and thin, the manufacturers would gladly leave
out the salts of iron, and the silks would wear much better. Cotton
is seldom mixed with the silk warp thread; but it is used as "filling"
in a large class of goods with silk warp. The custom has arisen of
advertising such goods as "silk," which of course is not a fair
description of them. Advertisements sometimes give notice of amazing
sales of "Shantung pongee," which has been made in American looms and
is a very different article from the imported "wild silk" pongee.
With so many shams in the market, how is a woman to know what she is
buying and whether it will wear? There are a few simple tests that are
helpful. Ravel a piece of silk and examine the warp and woof. If they
are of nearly the same size, the silk is not so likely to split. See
how strong the thread is. Burn a thread. If it burns with a little
flame, it is cotton. If it curls up and smells like burning wool, it
is probably silk. Another test by fire is to burn a piece of the
goods. If it is silk, it will curl up; if it is heavily weighted, it
will keep its shape. If you boil a sample in caustic potash, all the
silk in it will dissolve, but the cotton will remain. If the whole
sample disappears, you may be sure that it was all silk. Soft, finely
woven silks are safest because they will not hold so much weighting.
Crêpe de chine is made of a hard twisted thread and therefore wears
well. Taffeta can carry a large amount of weighting, and is always
doubtful; it may wear well, and it may not. There is always a reason
for a bargain sale of silks. The store may wish to clear out a
collection of remnants or to get rid of a line of goods which are no
longer to be carried; but aside from this, there is usually some
defect in the goods themselves or else they have failed to please the
fashionable whim of the moment. Silk is always silk, and if you want
it, you must pay for it.
Transcriber's Note
Some illustrations have been moved from their original locations
to paragraph breaks, so as to be nearer to their corresponding text,
or for ease of document navigation.
End of Project Gutenberg's Makers of Many Things, by Eva March Tappan