They are a vast hospital of interesting invalids, the patients being steamers, barges and canal-boats.  For instance, the old Edwin Forrest, which has paddled up the Delaware with excursionists since a time whereof the mind of man runneth not to the contrary, comes up into the dry-dock complaining of its bunions.  The dry-dock accommodates a ship as long as three hundred and forty feet, and is one hundred feet across.  The gouty steamer potters comfortably in, and lays up its tired keel, while the dock is being discharged, as serenely as a patient who lays his foot on the knee of a corn-doctor:  in due time, relieved and sound, the invalid is ready to take the stage of life again.  Another boat comes in to be lengthened:  it has growing-pains, and wants assistance.  The stern is sliced off, the keel is spliced, and the adolescent leaves the docks longer by twenty feet.  On the steamers that are being finished we notice the extreme beauty of the upholstery and of the engraved, inlaid and polished woodwork:  it is all done on the spot, and before we leave Wilmington we shall have many occasions to admire the luxury with which the higher kinds of joinery are prepared for the various structures made there.  On our way to the car-works—­for this versatile corporation is a great manufacturer of railway-carriages too—­we notice the throngs of workers scattered like ants over every part of the huge area, and it occurs to us to ask if there are any strikes.  Our conductor is Mr. J. Taylor Gause, a big, hearty, shrewd man, who knows every bolt and rivet on the whole premises as Bunyan knew the words of his Bible.

[Illustration:  Morocco-making factory.—­P. 381.]

“We never have any trouble,” replies Mr. Gause; “and it is owing to a way we have of nipping sea-lawyers in the bud.”

And what, may we ask, are sea-lawyers?

“Sea-lawyer is a workman’s term.  The sea-lawyer is the calculating, dissatisfied, eloquent man.  He is the Henri Rochefort of their assemblies.  A supposed grievance arises, the men have a meeting, and the sea-lawyer begins to stir them up, big in his opportunity.  We find who he is, pay him on the instant, and send him away.  The men run about for a while with their complaints in their heads, but with nobody to utter them by.  It ends by their coming to us in a body to receive back the mischief-maker, by this time repentant.  This we generally do, getting a friend converted from an enemy.”

[Illustration:  Coach-building establishment.—­P. 381]

In fact, the workmen of this city do not strike.  The principal remedy for the disease is a simple one.  They are householders, being aided to own their own houses.  They are therefore committed to the interests of the place, and do not deal in revolutions which would make wandering Ishmaelites of them.

The Harlan & Hollingsworth Company makes great numbers of railway-cars, from the ordinary kind to the most luxurious saloon-cars, and the examination of the shops is entertaining enough.  Pullman, in fact, is said to have had more of his luxurious parlor-cars built in Wilmington than in any other city.  As we are going, however, to see these carriages constructed where their manufacture is a specialty, we will not linger here, where they occupy but a part of an enormous establishment.