The precious red coral of the Mediterranean can be perfectly imitated by taking a cast of a coral branch and filling in the mold with celluloid of the same color and hardness.  The clear luster of amber, the dead black of ebony, the cloudiness of onyx, the opalescence of alabaster, the glow of carnelian—­once confined to the selfish enjoyment of the rich—­are now within the reach of every one, thanks to this chameleon material.  Mosaics may be multiplied indefinitely by laying together sheets and sticks of celluloid, suitably cut and colored to make up the picture, fusing the mass, and then shaving off thin layers from the end.  That chef d’oeuvre of the Venetian glass makers, the Battle of Isus, from the House of the Faun in Pompeii, can be reproduced as fast as the machine can shave them off the block.  And the tesserae do not fall out like those you bought on the Rialto.

The process thus does for mosaics, ivory and coral what printing does for pictures.  It is a mechanical multiplier and only by such means can we ever attain to a state of democratic luxury.  The product, in cases where the imitation is accurate, is equally valuable except to those who delight in thinking that coral insects, Italian craftsmen and elephants have been laboring for years to put a trinket into their hands.  The Lord may be trusted to deal with such selfish souls according to their deserts.

But it is very low praise for a synthetic product that it can pass itself off, more or less acceptably, as a natural product.  If that is all we could do without it.  It must be an improvement in some respects on anything to be found in nature or it does not represent a real advance.  So celluloid and its congeners are not confined to the shapes of shell and coral and crystal, or to the grain of ivory and wood and horn, the colors of amber and amethyst and lapis lazuli, but can be given forms and textures and tints that were never known before 1869.

Let me see now, have I mentioned all the uses of celluloid?  Oh, no, there are handles for canes, umbrellas, mirrors and brushes, knives, whistles, toys, blown animals, card cases, chains, charms, brooches, badges, bracelets, rings, book bindings, hairpins, campaign buttons, cuff and collar buttons, cuffs, collars and dickies, tags, cups, knobs, paper cutters, picture frames, chessmen, pool balls, ping pong balls, piano keys, dental plates, masks for disfigured faces, penholders, eyeglass frames, goggles, playing cards—­and you can carry on the list as far as you like.

Celluloid has its disadvantages.  You may mold, you may color the stuff as you will, the scent of the camphor will cling around it still.  This is not usually objectionable except where the celluloid is trying to pass itself off for something else, in which case it deserves no sympathy.  It is attacked and dissolved by hot acids and alkalies.  It softens up when heated, which is handy in shaping it though not so desirable afterward.  But the worst of its failings is its combustibility.  It is not explosive, but it takes fire from a flame and burns furiously with clouds of black smoke.