There is not much to say, other than: these people were all very friendly, allowing me to stand in their way as they busily ran with red-hot iron from the furnace to the anvil. They each had a role. One would heat the pieces to be worked, another held them in their proper position, from time to time turning them in another position so the ones who were beating with their hammers could better give it its proper form. Two would start beating straight away, the one working the furnace would join them. They beat the iron each in turn, like clockwork.
Here we take a look at one of the neighbours. There is a row of workshops, all working metal, nextto each other. The whole complex is at the edge of town, not, as used to be the case, in the centre.