Coal-tar --> 10 crudes --> 300 intermediates --> 900 dyes --> 5000 brands.

Or, to borrow the neat simile used by Dr. Bernhard C. Hesse, it is like
cloth-making where "ten fibers make 300 yarns which are woven into 900
patterns."

The advantage of the artificial dyestuffs over those found in nature
lies in their variety and adaptability. Practically any desired tint or
shade can be made for any particular fabric. If my lady wants a new kind
of green for her stockings or her hair she can have it. Candies and
jellies and drinks can be made more attractive and therefore more
appetizing by varied colors. Easter eggs and Easter bonnets take on new
and brighter hues.

More and more the chemist is becoming the architect of his own fortunes.
He does not make discoveries by picking up a beaker and pouring into it
a little from each bottle on the shelf to see what happens. He generally
knows what he is after, and he generally gets it, although he is still
often baffled and occasionally happens on something quite unexpected and
perhaps more valuable than what he was looking for. Columbus was looking
for India when he ran into an obstacle that proved to be America.
William Henry Perkin was looking for quinine when he blundered into that
rich and undiscovered country, the aniline dyes. William Henry was a
queer boy. He had rather listen to a chemistry lecture than eat. When he
was attending the City of London School at the age of thirteen there was
an extra course of lectures on chemistry given at the noon recess, so he
skipped his lunch to take them in. Hearing that a German chemist named
Hofmann had opened a laboratory in the Royal College of London he headed
for that. Hofmann obviously had no fear of forcing the young intellect
prematurely. He perhaps had never heard that "the tender petals of the