The match is made. The towering pine which listened to the whisper of
the south wind and swayed in the cold northern blast, has been so
divided that we can take it bit by bit and lightly twirl it between two
fingers. But what it has lost in size it has gained in use. The little
flame it carries, and which looks so harmless, flashing into brief
existence, has a latent power more terrible than the whirlwind which
perhaps sent the tall pine-tree crashing to the ground.

But the story is not yet closed. From the machine which completed the
matches they are taken to the "boxers"--mostly girls and women--who
place them in little boxes. The speed with which this is done is
surprising. With one hand they pick up an empty case and remove the
cover, while with the other they seize just a sufficient number of
matches, and by a peculiar shuffling motion arrange them evenly,
then--'t is done!

The little packages of sleeping fire are taken to another room, where
on each one is placed a stamp certifying the payment to the government
of one cent revenue tax. Equipped with these passes the boxes are
placed in larger ones, and these again in wooden cases, which are to be
shipped to all parts of the country, and over seas.

All this trouble over such little things as matches! Yet on these
fire-tipped bits of wood millions of people depend for warmth, cooked
food and light. They have become a necessity, and the day of flint,
steel and tinder seems almost as far away in the past as are the bow
and fire-stick of the Indian.

Some idea of the number of matches used in North America during a year
may be gained from the fact that it is estimated by competent judges