SECRETS THAT ARE VALUABLE
EVERY girl who uses extract of violet on her handkerchief is contributing to the well-earned fortune of a man who has for years kept to himself the secret of a curious chemical discovery. Once violet extract was made from violets. Now it is compounded of ionone, the secret in question, which is the most precious thing of its kind in the world. A single drop of it will perfume a big room for months. It sells in quart bottles at six hundred and forty-five dollars each; and, beyond the fact that it is an oil of lemon, and lemon-grass, the secret of its manufacture is still an absolute mystery to the world at large. Pins are used throughout the world at the rate of billions a day.* This is entirely owing to the cleverness and perseverance of one man,—Samuel Slocum,—who was the inventor of the solid-headed pin. About seventy years ago Slocum made, in the Isle of Wight, the first nail-making machine. At that time pins were made by a most tedious process; the head of each was formed by winding a fine wire onto the post of the pin. It occurred to Mr. Slocum that his nail-making principle might be applied to pin manufacture. To perfect the idea he shut himself up in his workshop for eight days, having his meals passed in to him, and refusing to see anybody. At last he was completely successful. This and a subsequent machine for setting pins in paper, Slocum preserved as his own secrets for years, till they were at last bought from him by the American Pin Company. Much excitement has been caused among French artists by the appearance on the market of a color called “ceruline.” It gives a blue surpassing any in use in beauty and softness, and that, too, without the use of either oil or varnish. It was invented by an Italian, Signor Ceruli, who has so far been clever enough to keep his preparation an absolute secret. The difficulty of keeping secrets of this kind is immense. If workmen are employed, it is certain that envious competitors will tempt them with heavy bribes. The Clarendon Press of Oxford, England, has managed to preserve a secret process intact for twenty-five years. This is its wonderful India paper, on which, besides Bibles, one hundred and sixty other works are printed. It is so tough that a strip three inches wide will support a weight of twenty-three pounds. The manner of its manufacture came into possession of the Clarendon Press in August, 1875, and it has been made ever since at Wolvercote mill. Only three persons possess knowledge of the whole process. Not one of those employed in making the thin, tough paper is familiar with more than one stage of its manufacture. In the earlier days of the century much mystery attended the inventions of the day, and many persons made comfortable little fortunes out of processes which to-day are described in every text-book. The proprietor of a drug store near Temple Bar, London, about eighty years ago, invented a method of making citric acid. Fortunately for him, it was so simple a process that he required no assistance. For a long time, behind locked doors and blind-covered windows, he turned out citric acid by the gallon, and rapidly accumulated the beginnings of a fortune. One day, to his horror, the firm to which he usually sold his goods refused to pay the usual price. Their offer was fifty per cent lower than the usual terms. Soon it fell lower still. There were quantities of citric acid on the market, and the secret was his no longer. It was long before he discovered how his process had leaked out. One day, during his absence, a boy, disguised as a chimney sweep, had got on the roof of his laboratory, dropped down the flue, and discovering his notes and retorts, returned with full particulars to his employers. Heartbroken, the unlucky man died a year later. One-man secrets are such troublesome property to keep that most inventors are glad enough to sell them for a reasonable price. An English dye manufacturer a year or two ago heard of a Frenchman who had discovered a new carmine, which gave wonderful results. He went to see the inventor at Lyons, and was charmed with the brilliancy of the coloring. He agreed to pay five thousand dollars down for the secret. With full particulars, he returned to England, and set to work. But his carmine was most disappointing. It had none of the exquisite brilliance of the French product. He paid another visit to Lyons, and saw the process all over again. “My method was perfect in every particular,” he said. “It must be the air of England which makes it impossible to produce good carmine.” “Stay,” said the Frenchman. “You are wrong. What kind of weather is it to-day?” “Bright and sunny,” replied the other, in surprise. “There, you have the real secret,” returned the Frenchman. “It took me many months to discover it, and I could not bring myself at first to tell you.”