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ONCE A WEEK.

vogue, when adieu to buttons.* Almost entirely depending on fashion and prosperous times, this trade is peculiarly susceptible of depression, hun dreds of hands being often, without a week's warning, thrown out of employment by some caprice of the fickle goddess, or many-tongued rumour of war. For instance, the introduction of the plain strap, worn on ladies' mantles some few seasons back, threw nearly all the crocheters in London out of work ; while, at the same time, the Crimean war, which was raging in all its fury, combined with the uneasy aspect of the political horizon, depressed the trade to such an extent that it has never fairly recovered from the shock. Having given this necessary explanation we will enter, this clear bright autumn day, in the year 185—, the establishment of Messrs. Pettitoes, situ ated in one of the densely-crowded neighbourhoods of the City. There is a whir and buzz as we pass the doorway, which tells of King Steam, whose voice, powerful as it is, cannot drown the voices of the assembled outdoor hands, who, standing in the narrow passage, and sitting on the confined stairs, are waiting their turns to be served. A door lies at our right hand, on opening which we find ourselves in the public and finished stock room. A gentleman is standing by the counter, on which are littered pattern cards of different kinds. The one he is at present examining is of first-class gimp crochet. Here is a vine leaf, there an oak, together with hexagons, circles, squares, diamonds, &c, combined in various ways into graceful de signs, or else standing simply by themselves : the stiff material of which they are composed rendering it impossible for the designer, however skilful, to create the flowing and beautiful imitations of nature, in which the silk crochet particularly excels. And here a word about crochet patterns. At Pettitoes', as well as at most firms, the designs are made by the workers, who are allowed the preference of working up the orders, if their patterns succeed. If they cannot obtain them in this way, they buy them of persons possessing the gift of designing, who are not actually working for daily bread, and therefore refuse to part with them without payment. Sometimes orders are sent to Paris for the latest novelty, which is copied, and soon in the market. On the right hand of the gentleman is a packet of buttoncards, and here may be seen fancy trimming buttons of almost every description—melons, acorns, apples, pears, show their tiny counter parts in silk and twist, and the simple flat buttons are embroidered so delicately and tastefully that we almost doubt the truth of the assertion, that these beautiful little ornaments are the invention as well as the handiwork of poor, uneducated women, whose hands are hardened by daily toil, and their minds disturbed by anxious cares. And whilst admiring the exquisite taste displayed in the design, we cannot but think that the present superiority of French fancy designers over our own is owing not to greater natural ability, but to the higher knowledge of art in respect to manufactures which for years they have undoubt* Gilt buttons, not strings, have fairly driven fancy buttons out of the market.

[March 3, 1861.

edly possessed. But see, Mr. Smith has marked several cards, and disappears with them through a dark opening on our right ; following, we find ourselves in a long room on the first floor, where everything speaks of "work, work, work." Rows of dyed and undyed wooden-button and tassel moulds are hanging like many-jointed, headless snakes upon the walls ; large bobbins (that is, reels) of silk, gimp, and twist stand upon the counter, all ready for giving out ; whilst packet after packet of these same moulds, but covered with silk, ready for the embroiderers, or twist coverers, are ranged in rows by the bobbins, only waiting the nimble fingers of Mrs. Ellis to toss them into the scales, and from thence through the narrow aperture, with a sliding trap-door, behind which the workers stand. With undisputed sway does Mrs. Ellis (the head forewoman) rule over this department, and now she is busily serving her button hands. "There, now, there's four gross, as soon as you can make them—Mr. Smith says your pattern's good, but the price is high." " Lor, marm, only see what a time these leaves take ! " cries the worker. " Well, well, do your best, and don't scamp. Now, the next," calls Mrs. Ellis, as a new face appears at the trap, and so on, in rapid succession, till all the button hands are served. It is still early, and the crocheters and crape-trim mers have not arrived ; so the manageress composes herself to sorting out fresh supplies of buttons, or making entries in her books. Outside, the hands are comparing notes, congratulating or condoling with one another according to circumstances. Almost invariably this class of workers consists of the wives and daughters of mechanics of the humbler kind ; and, rough as some of them un doubtedly are, there is far more kindly feeling and consideration shown one towards the other than we often see in more polished circles. They truly " do as they would be done by." To use their own words, their " Bills and Jims are perhaps raging and swearing for their dinners," but never for one moment do they think of depriving one another of their turns. On the contrary, they will often resign their own, saying, " I got my Tom's dinner before I came out, so he's only got to eat it, and I know your Jack blazes if his ain't ready :" and the kindhearted speaker loses perhaps twenty minutes of her valuable time to serve her friend, who to-morrow would risk even " her Jack's fury " to requite the service. The language of the buttoners is not very classical, husbands being generally denominated as " my old un," " your Bill," &c, whilst children as often receive the expressive name of "limbs." We are bound to believe that the "old uns" are very ill-tempered and the " limbs " proportionally troublesome, not only from hearsay, but from the worn and jaded looks of too many of the married women. The spinsters appear upon good terms with themselves and all around them, joking each other unmerci fully respecting their " young man," who, at the first convenient opportunity, is to become their "old un," and till that blissful day arrives is bound to escort his lady-love to the "Wells," at least once a week. There seems to be some