side world. A laborer, dressed even more shabbily than Edison himself, comes up, and from a distance of ten or a dozen feet growls out a question about some new braces which are being put in. Edison grunts back his answer in quite the same tone of voice, and a moment later is off, with short, quick steps, and an intense look, towards a group of men holding a consultation over some mechanical difficulty connected with the plant. Edison solves the problem almost as soon as it is laid before him, and presently is back again, gazing down at the first object of his attention.
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THE ELECTRIC CRANE DUMPING A SKIP-LOAD OF ROCK INTO THE ROLL-PIT.
Ten feet below the flooring two immense rolls, with surfaces studded with teeth and weighing over 100 tons, are constantly revolving.
"We are making a Yosemite of our own here," he says; "we will soon have one of the biggest artificial canons in the world." This remark is occasioned by the fact that the steam shovel is operating at a point three-quarters of a mile from the works proper. It is somewhat down the hillside, but it is eating its way on a level straight into the hill. "It will take us a year to reach the mills," says the inventor; "but when we do get that far in, we will have a trench with walls one hundred feet deep. I suppose we will take out Over 600,000 tons of rock before we get there. Then when the trench is completed, we can blast off the walls with dynamite, taking off 32,000 tons at a time. But look at this fellow," he continues, pointing to the steam shovel. "Wouldn't you think he was alive? Always seems to me like one of those old-time monsters or dragons we
