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Title: Scientific American Supplement, No. 841, February 13, 1892

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SCIENTIFIC
AMERICAN SUPPLEMENT, NO. 841, FEBRUARY 13, 1892 ***

SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN
SUPPLEMENT NO. 841

NEW YORK, FEBRUARY 13, 1892
Scientific American Supplement. Vol. XXXIII, No. 841.

Scientific American established 1845

Scientific American Supplement, $5 a year.

Scientific American and Supplement, $7 a year.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.
I. ANTHROPOLOGY.—Investigation of a Mound near Jefferson City,
Mo.—By A.S. LOGAN.—Prehistoric remains from the banks of the
Missouri River
II. BIOLOGY.—New Observations on the Language of Animals.—By
M. DE LACAZE DUTHIERS.—A lengthy examination of some
facts in the language of animals, including birds and quadrupeds
III. BOTANY.—Electricity in Agriculture.—By CLARENCE D.
WARNER.—The effect of currents of electricity upon the
germination of seeds.—Interesting experiments detailed, which can
be easily repeated
Electricity in Horticulture.—The effect of the electric light on
vegetation, availability it may possess for the gardener
Pentapterygium Serpens.—A Himalayan flowering plant introduced
in England about ten years ago.—2 illustrations
The Perforation of Flowers.—What insects do to promote the
propagation of plants by perforating the flowers in search of honey.
—16 illustrations
IV. CHEMISTRY.—A New Laboratory Process for Preparing
Hydrobromic Acid.—By G.S. NEWTH.—Simple synthesis of
hydrogen and bromium

Boron Salts.—Boron sulphides and selenides and silicon selenide
Detection of Peanut Oil in Olive Oil.—A practical laboratory test for
the above adulteration
Hydroxylamine.—Recent preparation of this compound and its
properties
New Boron Compounds.—Compounds of boron, phosphorus, and
iodine recently prepared by M. MOISSAN
Sapotin, a New Glucoside.—By GUSTAVE MICHAUD.—
Preparation of a new glucoside from almonds and other sources
V. CIVIL ENGINEERING.—Completion of the Mersey Tunnel
Railway.—The penetration of the bed of the Mersey River by a
tunnel at the rate of 150 feet per week.—Details of the work
VI. EDUCATIONAL SCIENCE.—Chinese Competitive Examinations.
—Interesting details of the famous examinations of China.—Fatal
consequences to overworked competitors
VII. ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING.—High Speed Engine and
Dynamo.—A high speed compound engine, running at 500
revolutions per minute, with direct-driven dynamo for electric
lighting.—3 illustrations
VIII. MEDICINE.—The Treatment of Rattlesnake Bite by Permanganate
of Potassium, Based on Nine Successful Cases.—By AMOS W.
BARBER, M.D.—The use of this powerful disinfectant, and the
proper treatment and mode of applying it.
IX. METEOROLOGY.—Modification of Our Climate.—By JOSEPH
WALLACE.—Climate epochs and the probabilities of the present
climatic era.—Changes within the records of man
The Eruption of Krakatoa.—A graphic description of this
catastrophe, involving the lives of 35,000 people
X. MILITARY ENGINEERING.—The Military Engineer and His
Work.—By Col. W.R. KING.—A Sibley College lecture, treating of
the special problems In fortifications, sieges, and the more pacific
work of surveys and explorations

XI. MINERALOGY.—Natural Sulphide of Gold.—By T.W.T.
ATHERTON.—A probable new occurrence of gold
XII. NATURAL HISTORY.—The Living Jerboa in the Zoological
Garden of Berlin.—A rare rodent from South Africa, one seldom
seen alive in captivity.—5 illustrations
XIII. NAVAL ENGINEERING.—Twenty-four Knot Steamers.—The
possibility of fast ships for long voyages.—The prospects and
difficulties
XIV. RAILROAD ENGINEERING.—A Steam Street Railway Motor.—
A noiseless motor built of steel on trial in Chicago.—1 illustration
XV. SANITARY ENGINEERING.—Some Means of Purifying Water.—
Different filtering processes and the subsidence treatment of water
XVI. TECHNOLOGY.—Action of Caustic Soda on Wood.—By M.H.
TAUSS.—Direct experiments on the action of lye on wood at
various pressures
Burning Brick with Crude Oil Fuel.—The use of petroleum in brick
kilns.—Its advantages, cleanliness, and cheapness.
Chlorine Gas and Soda by the Electrolytic Process.—The
decomposition of common salt solution into chlorine and caustic
soda on the commercial scale
How Enameled Letters are Made.—The manufacture of separate
enameled letters as conducted in London.—5 illustrations
How Mechanical Rubber Goods are Made.—Hose, corrugated
matting, packing, and jar rings.—Processes of their production

THE LIVING JERBOA IN THE ZOOLOGICAL
GARDEN OF BERLIN.
Like other strangely formed quadrupeds, the jerboas are counted among the
curiosities of the animal kingdom, and as such are described in natural
history; but, nevertheless, there has never been a good exhibition of them,
for the simple reason that live jerboas are seldom seen in Europe, as they
usually die during the journey hither or soon after their arrival. After some
hesitation I decided to purchase a pair that I happened to find mentioned in
the price list of Mr. C. Reiche, of Alfeld, as one of the most interesting
specimens obtained during his expedition to South Africa the year before;
but I, also, found the sensitiveness and delicacy of the jerboa very trying,
for the short journey from Alfeld to this city caused the death of the female
and reduced her mate to such a condition that when it arrived there seemed
little hope that it could ever be utilized for scientific research or artistic life
studies.

JERBOA IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN OF BERLIN.—DRAWN
FROM LIFE BY G. MUTZEL.

My anticipation and pleasure were changed to vexation and grief. The most
careful nursing—the stiff, weak little legs were dipped into and rubbed with
French brandy—and a warm pen with a dry sanded floor directly over a
heater, did their work. As the new-comer got on his feet again my hope
gained new life, and now our jerboa is my delight. It is, indeed, a curious
animal. One who saw it only in the day time asleep would scarcely know
what he had before him, for he would see little more than a mass of soft,
bright sandy hair. The coming of the keeper with the dish of food and the
unfastening of the door of the cage bring life to the ball of hair in the
corner; a part of it is unrolled and the long, black-tipped tail with two lines
of hair is laid out on the ground, and then on each side of it a leg is run out
which is nearly as long as the tail and is provided with blunt, smooth, hoof-
life nails; and, finally, the head and body are distinguishable and the animal
stretches out comfortably on its back in the sand. The fine-skinned, hairless
ears still hang limp, the eyes are half closed and the short fore legs are
crossed under the chin.

But now the animal gets on its legs by an elastic swing, and its ears are
raised and its eyes wide open, so that we can see that the latter are large and
dark, with long eyelashes. Then the jerboa raises himself to his full height
and playfully measures his cage by one bound from corner to corner. Soon
after, the fresh food receives due attention, the animal either jumping
toward it in rabbit fashion or crawling slowly on all fours. When it has
reached its goal it again assumes the upright position, in which it is
evidently most comfortable, and begins to eat it in his own peculiar way;
that is, sitting on his hind legs he quickly seizes a piece of bread, turnip or
other food in his fore paws and conveys it to his mouth, apparently
indifferent to the nature of the food before him. He never takes anything
directly in his mouth; even the grass on a piece of turf that I had given to
him as an experiment was not eaten as it would have been eaten by other
animals, but was first plucked with the fore paws. If we notice the position
of the mouth, far back on the under side of the head, we will understand that
the jerboa could not take his food in any other way. Besides this, nothing of
special interest has been observed in this nocturnal creature, but he, of
course, lives more regularly and quietly than if his mate had lived.

One who knows anything about the structure of animals' bodies need not be
told that the jerboa is a rodent. One glance at the peculiar shape of his head
would assure him of that. The form of the rest of its body, especially its
long hind and short fore legs, give unmistakable proof that it is related to
the jumping rodents; it belongs, in a wide sense, to the family of the
jumping mouse, the scientific name (Dipodidea, two-footed) of which is
very significant, as the very short fore legs are usually carried close under
the chin and are scarcely noticeable when the animal is in its normal
position, and are of little use when it moves about. The hind legs are very
strong, and when going at full speed the jerboa takes jumps that measure
from eight to ten yards, according to the unanimous testimony of various
witnesses.

The jumping mouse of North America, which is somewhat larger than an
ordinary mouse, is, according to Brehm, also as swift as an arrow or a low-
flying bird. This exceptional velocity is not all that reminds us of a bird, for
there is also a strong resemblance in the formation of certain parts of the
bodies of the two creatures; but, after consideration, this should not seem

strange, because in animal organisms similar means are employed to
accomplish similar ends. It is only natural that there should be peculiarities
in the construction of the limbs and skulls of the Dipodidea with their bird-
like movements and bird-like sharp-sightedness, that are usually found only
among birds. The consistency between the construction of their bodies and
their mode of life is a beautiful example of fitness; only by extraordinary
quickness of movement and sagacity could the little defenseless plant-eaters
maintain the struggle for existence in the barren steppes and deserts. The
formation of the bodies of the different members of the family varies
according to their needs. The jerboa is the largest member of the family.
Very little is known of his life when free; it being known only that the
jerboas are widely spread over the whole of southern Africa, and are
nocturnal burrowers of the steppes. During the rainy season they remain in
a sort of winter sleep.—Dr. L. Heck, in the Illustrirte Zeitung.

NEW OBSERVATIONS ON THE LANGUAGE
OF ANIMALS.
By M. DE LACAZE DUTHIERS, of the Institute of France.

I had occasion in a note published several years ago in the Revue
Scientifique to mention a parroquet which I have since continued to
observe, the manifestations of whose intelligence are both interesting and
instructive. Many acts of birds are difficult of interpretation. To speak only
of their songs, the meanings of most of the innumerable varieties of sounds
which they produce, and of their diverse warblings, escape us completely. It
is not possible to find the meaning of these things except by forming
suppositions and hypotheses, or by catching the connections between cries
and acts. But instances of the latter kind are extremely rare in comparison
with the great majority of the manifestations made by animals.

Thus, to select examples which every one can observe, when a canary bird
is warbling in its cage and becomes deafening, or when a lark rises straight
up in the air and incantat suum tirile tirile—sings its tirile tirile—as
Linnæus picturesquely expresses it; when a tomtit, leaping from branch to
branch of a willow or among the reeds, repeats its florid warblings; when a
raven croaks; when a blackbird whistles—what significance can we attach
to their songs and their cries? Certainty is impossible, and we can only form
more or less plausible hypotheses concerning the interpretation of them.

The parrot furnishes us one more aid in this matter than other birds, and this
helps us, to a certain extent, in overcoming the difficulty of interpretation. It
has an articulate voice, and when we have taught it a few words, the
meaning which it gives them may be better divined by us according to the
tone and the rapidity or slowness of its utterance. This permits us to
discover the feelings that move it, for we can better judge from an articulate
sound than from one that is merely musical.

Much has been written on the language of animals. It is neither my desire
nor my intention to repeat here all that may have been said on this subject.
It would take too long and would be of no use. I have often witnessed facts
that may be of interest to those who are occupied with the mental
manifestations of animals. I will simply relate them; and of such as are
already known, I will merely mention them anew, admitting in advance a
priority for others which I do not demand for myself.

There can be no doubt that animals communicate their impressions by an
inarticulate voice. Common sense and the most superficial observations are
opposed to the negative of this proposition. But when a canary bird warbles
till it stuns us, or a nightingale sings in the shadows on the fine nights of
June, can we follow and discover the significance of those modulations—
now sharply cadenced, now slowly drawn out, and ending with a trill long
and accurate enough to challenge the most skillful musician?

All the poets of every country have constantly sung of the songs of
Philomela. But their fervent and enthusiastic verses cast little light on the
value of the nightingale's song. It is said that the male sings for the
entertainment of the sitting female, but there is no proof of the assertion.
The note warning of the approach of danger is easier to recognize. The bird
utters a short, hoarse cry, and repeats it with a succession of trrre, trrre,
which is impossible to mistake. When we hear this cry we may be sure that
an enemy is near. Music gives way to a cry of distress and warning, and the
female leaves her nest if the sounds become piercing. What do we know of
the gobbling of the turkey, which the whistling and the cries of children
excite? They are doubtless responses to those challenges; but what do they
mean?

The crowing of the cock, recurring regularly at fixed hours, has some
signification, but we cannot comprehend it. If on a fine afternoon in autumn
the cock crows, and repeats his strain between two and four o'clock, the
countrymen in some places will say there will be a fog on the morrow, and
they are generally not mistaken. Hens do not mistake his notes either; when
a leader of the troop, coming upon a spot rich in food, utters his peculiar
chuckle, they run from all around to share the find with him. It is evident
that the cock has called them and they have understood him. These facts

indicate that there is some definite sense in this inarticulate language; and
examples of it, taken from other groups, might be multiplied.

The dog, intelligent animal as he is, manifests his affection on meeting his
master, with peculiar cries which vary with the intensity of his joy. No one
could confound these notes of pleasure with those which he utters when he
is angrily driving away a beggar, or when he meets another dog of
unpleasant appearance and puts himself in the position of attack.

An interesting study of the voice of the dog on guard may be made in the
country at night. If another dog barks in the distance, the house dog answers
in a peculiar manner. He gives a few growls, stops, seems to listen, begins
again, very often getting answers; and, after two or three interruptions, he
terminates his barking with abrupt yelps, loud at the beginning and long
drawn out, and gradually dying away. This ending of his cries is habitually
accompanied by his raising his head and throwing it back. I have often,
when within the house, on hearing the watch dog bark in this way, opened
the window to assure myself on the subject, and distinguished, as I could
not do with the windows closed, the voice of another watch dog barking in
the same way in the distance—the barkings of the two dogs alternating, one
answering the other. There is in such cases an evident communication of
impressions. One of the dogs, having had his attention aroused by some
unusual noise, has transmitted his impression to the other, as sentinels
posted at intervals call out theft warnings one to another. I have often
repeated this observation during the long evenings of winter.

Another example, little known in thickly populated countries, is drawn from
a curious scene which I witnessed during a winter passed in Perigord Noir.
We had remarked that for several nights the three watch dogs, a young and
an old male and a bitch, howled often toward midnight, but in a peculiar
way. One night in particular, during their tedious concert, just as we had got
to sleep, they mingled with their cries howlings like those they would have
uttered if they had been beaten, with a shading hard to define, but which we
perceived plainly; and we remarked that, leaving their kennel in the avenue
that led up to the lodge, they had come to close quarters with one another at
the gate, with alternating howlings and plaintive cries. Inquiring in the
morning for the cause of these singular cries, the peasants told me that a

wolf had passed, and predicted that it would return. They said, too, that a
neighbor's hunting bitch had disappeared, and its bones had been found in
the fields near a wood. We were awakened again about midnight by the
cries of the dogs, and the scene was renewed. Informed as we now were of
the nature of what was going on, we ran to one of the windows, whence we
could see, in the clear light of the moon, all that passed. The three dogs
were cowering against the gate, the oldest one howling by the side of the
others, while the younger one and the bitch were exposed at intervals to the
attacks of another animal, browner than they, and of about their size,
without defending themselves, but moaning as if they were undergoing a
vigorous correction.

Frightened, doubtless, by the opening of the blinds of the first story above
him, the strange animal had gone away and was sitting in the middle of the
road. We could only see that he had straight ears. While we were going
down to get a gun the visitor came back to his charge on the dogs, which
had begun howling after he left them, and resumed the cries significant of
chastisement when they were attacked again. For some reason, perhaps
because he heard the click of the gun, the foe drew back and sat down in a
garden walk, concealed by a bunch of shrubbery. The three dogs,
notwithstanding our reiterated urging, were no more disposed to pursue him
than before. If the assailant had been a dog they would have rushed upon
him, but they stayed cowering at the gate and howled distressfully. The
bitch was most affected, and they all seemed paralyzed by fear. It is said in
the country that bitches are especially liable to be attacked by wolves. It
was so here. The most certain feature in the matter was the terror of the
animals. They were capable of resisting the attack three times over. The
young dog was a savage one, and passers-by were afraid of the bitch; but
that night they were terrorized, and all incapable of defending themselves.
Their cries were therefore due to the same cause as in the preceding night—
the presence and attacks of the wolf. I could not have realized their meaning
if I had not been a witness of the scene—that is, I could not have correlated
the cries and the acts.

A shot at the animal behind the bushes was followed by a hoarse cry. He
was hit, and ran; but, in spite of our urgings, the dogs stayed at the gate and

only stopped howling. Under any other conditions, upon the signal of the
shot they would all have started in pursuit of the wounded animal.

A wolf came to the farm during the last winter (1890-91) and attacked the
same bitch. He would have carried her off, for he had seized her by the
throat, if we could judge from the stifled cries she uttered; but this time he
found with her a new watch dog—a mountain bitch from the Pyrenees—of
a breed that attacks the wolf and the bear. The wolf would have been caught
if he had not run away. He did not return, for he had been attacked, and
learned what he had to deal with.

The Pyrenean breed furnishes excellent watch dogs. I knew one of
remarkable traits. At evening he would go round the house, giving two or
three growls at each door. With his head raised he seemed to listen to his
fine voice, then he would start again and go to another door. He seemed
desirous to show those who were observing him that he was attending to his
post as guardian. He then went away in silence along the walk, through a
dark, rising hedgerow, leaping the slight hillock, yelping toward the wood.
He listened, yelped again, and went in. There was never any failure in this
performance, but every evening as night was coming on he began his round,
which no one had taught him. It was all done in his function as a guard. It
would be hard to determine what his yelps meant, but there were in them an
inflection, a sonorousness, and a continuance quite different from those he
uttered when pursuing a passer-by or when going to meet a person coming
toward the house. Every one who has a watch dog is able to tell by the
sound of his barking when a person is coming up, and usually what sort of a
visitor it is.

The peasants' dogs of the southwest of France dislike the country millers,
because of the long whips which they are always carrying and snapping,
and with which the dogs, running after them, are often struck. From as far
off as the snapping of the whip can be heard, the dogs come to wait for the
millers and pursue them; and it is easy to recognize when the millers are
passing, by the behavior of the dogs. There is in this also a significance, at
once aggressive and defensive, in the cries which one can, by giving a little
attention, soon learn to distinguish.

Another example of the reality of the various meanings of the cries of the
dog under different circumstances is afforded by the companies that collect
around a female in heat.

I have a very intelligent and experienced brach hound, the same which with
the bitch had to face the attack of the wolf. He amuses me much at my
country lunches. Hunting dogs which have been much with their masters at
lunch do not like to have the drinking glass offered them. This dog was
much afraid of the glass, and I had only to present it to him at lunch time to
make him keep his distance. I used to keep my door open at lunch, for the
amusement of observing how I could make him stop exactly at the
threshold without stepping over it. If he had passed over it I could always
send him back by casting toward him a few drops of water from the bottom
of the glass after drinking. Sitting, as was his habit, on the sill of the door,
with the tip of his muzzle never extending beyond the plane of the panels,
he would follow my motions with the closest attention, reminding me, if I
failed to give him a sign of attention, by a discreet, plaintive cry, that he
was there. But if I touched my glass, he would spring up at once; if I filled
it, he would put himself on guard, utter a kind of sigh, sneeze, lick his lips,
yawn, and, shaking his ears briskly, make little stifled cries. Then he would
grow impatient, and more and more watchful and nervous. When I lifted my
glass to my lips he would draw back, working gradually nearer to the
farther door, and at last disappear and hide. One who was looking at him
without seeing me could tell by his wails and his attitude the level and
position of my glass. When the glass was horizontal, I could see only about
half of his head, with one eye regarding me fixedly, for that was usually the
critical moment—the one, also, when the wails and restraints were most
demonstrative of the anxious fear of my poor animal.

When we dine in the kitchen, which is on the ground floor, the dogs are
usually all put out. There are four of them, three young and not experienced,
and this old, sagacious brach hound. He insists on coming in, and, to gain
his purpose, tries to have the door opened. Although no person may be
coming up the walk, he dashes down it barking, all the others going along
too and yelping with him; then he stops, remains a little behind after having
got the others out of the way, and, turning his head from moment to
moment, looks to see if the door has been opened, for we generally go to it

to see who has come. In that case the feigned attack is successful, and the
dog, who has evidently meant to give the alarm so as to have the door
opened, comes in at once and claims a place at the table. He has
accomplished his end, for the door is usually shut without paying attention
to his having got in. I have frequently witnessed this stratagem, and when,
during my kitchen dinner, I suddenly hear the dogs yelping after the brach
hound has begun, I am pretty sure that nobody is in sight.

I have forgotten where I found the next story of an old dog who was also
very sagacious. Hunting dogs, when they grow old, become rheumatic, or
are at least debilitated with pains. We know, too, that they crave heat, and
get as near the fire as possible—a craving which increases as they grow
older. One such dog, older than the others, and slower in getting into the
lodge on returning from the hunt, was often crowded away from the fire by
the other livelier dogs getting all the best places before him. Finding
himself thus turned out in the cold, he would dash toward the door barking,
when the others, supposing it was an alarm, would rush away too, while the
old rheumatic went to the fire and selected a place to suit him.

It is not necessary to dwell upon the intelligence shown by such acts. But it
is hardly contestable that the old animal, who knows how to play such
tricks upon his less experienced companions, deceives them by his
intonations, while he is well aware that no enemy is approaching the house;
but he does it scientifically, by the inflections of his voice, as a man
speaking to other men would do in announcing the arrival of an imaginary
enemy.

Inarticulate cries are all pretty much the same to us; their inflections,
duration, pitch, abruptness, and prolongation alone can inform us of their
purpose. But experience and close attention have shown us the connection
of these variations with the acts that accompany or precede them. Animals
evidently understand these inflections at once. We cannot better compare
the language of animals than with what takes place in a pleasant sport, a
kind of pantomime of the voice or language which many youth doubtless
understand, and which I venture to refer to here to aid in more easily
conceiving of the communication of thought among animals by sounds
which seem to us all alike. When I was engaged in hospitals, the evenings

in the guard room were sometimes enlivened by the presence of a
companion who excelled in humorous mimicry. He would represent a man
in liquor who had stopped at a fountain that flowed with a gentle sound,
somewhat like that of his own hiccough. A single oath, pronounced in
different tones, was sufficient to enable us to comprehend all the
impressions, all the states of mind through which this devotee of Bacchus
passed. The oath, at first pronounced slowly and with an accent expressing
relief, represented a feeling of satisfaction, with shadings of prolonged
exclamation which it would be hard for one to imagine without suggestion.
The continued flowing of the fountain made our drunken man impatient,
and he wanted it to stop. This state of mind was translated by a new
modulation of the same word. In a little while the gurgling of the fountain
produced astonishment. Was it possible that he, with all the liquid he had
imbibed, could vomit so much and for so long a time? This mental
condition was expressed by a new modulation of the same oath. The first
movement of surprise over, resignation follows, and our man decides to
wait patiently for the end. A period of half lethargy was easily represented
by the slowness and weakness of the man's voice while living up to this
decision; but when he comes out of this sleepy condition and hears the
fountain again, he is possessed with fear; he cannot understand the flood he
is pouring out—he dares not move—he believes he is lost. Gradually the
fumes of the liquor pass away, and, his mistake being recognized, the
drunkard is taken with a laughing and a gayety which are indicated by the
same oath repeated in tones corresponding with the satisfaction he is then
enjoying. This making the series of impressions a man passes through
comprehensible by a single word, varied in pronunciation and utterance, is
very like the language of animals, which is always the same, and the
significance of which is given by variety of intonations corresponding with
sensational conditions.

The mewing of the cat is always the same; but what a number of mental
conditions it expresses! I had a kitten whose gambols and liveliness
entertained me greatly. I understood well, when it came up to me mewing,
what the sound meant; sometimes the kitten wanted to come up and sleep in
my lap; at other times it was asking me to play with it. When, at my meals,
it jumped on my knees, turned round, looked at me, and spoke in a coaxing
and flattering way, it was asking for something to eat. When its mother

came up with a mouse in her jaws, her muffled and low-toned mew
informed the little one from a distance, and caused it to spring and run up to
the game that was brought to it. The cry is always the same, but varied in
the strength of the inflections and in its protraction, so as to represent the
various states of mind with which my young animal is moved—just as it
was with the drunken man in the mimicry scene. These facts are probably
well known to all observers of animals.

We have seen that this tonality of the watch dog's cries is competent to
indicate that a person is coming to the house. We find similar cries of
warning uttered by birds. When I was a professor in the faculty of Lille, I
frequently visited the well known aged Professor of Physics, M. Delezenne.
He had a working room at the end of a garden, in which a laughing mew
wandered. From the time that any one came in till he went out, this bird
made the vocal explosions to which it owes its name; and the good
professor was certain, without ever being mistaken, that somebody was
coming to his laboratory. He was notified. My Jaco in Paris has a warble
that answers the ringing of the bell. If we have not heard the bell, we are
notified by Jaco of its ringing, and, going to the door, find some one there. I
have been told of a parrot belonging to the steward of a lyceum which had
heard the words "Come in," when any one rang the bell. He never failed to
cry, "Come in," when the bell moved, and the visitor was embarrassed at
seeing nobody after having been invited to open the door.

Instances in which the cries of birds had an incontestable and precise
signification are numerous; let me refer to a few of the best known. The
cackle of a hen, after having laid an egg and left her nest, is decidedly
characteristic. Her clucking when she is impelled to sit on her eggs, or when
she is calling her chicks, is no less demonstrative. There is not a farmer who
does not recognize it and understand it. In these things we see the relation
between the tone of the prating or cluck of the hen and her acts. But when a
nightingale sings all night, or a goldfinch whistles, or a raven croaks, we
cannot so easily interpret the significance of their inarticulate sounds. The
finch calls its mate by uttering a few notes followed by a long trill. Matches
of a barbarous character, based on this habit, I were held in the north of
France while I was living at Lille, between 1855 and 1860. I do not know
whether they have been suppressed or not, but the laws for the protection of

animals ought to take cognizance of them. The gamesters put out the eyes
of the male finches, and made them, thus blinded, compete as singers, for
which purpose they brought their cages into proximity. When the birds
heard and recognized one another's voices, they made their appeal to the
female; the one that renewed his amorous trills most frequently, protracted
them longest and to the last, gained the prize. The bird that was declared
victor received a medal amid the applause of a large and enthusiastic crowd;
and considerable wagers were staked upon the result. I have heard that these
poor blinded birds sometimes fell down exhausted with singing, and kept
on calling the absent female till they died, not being willing to yield to a
rival, who on his side was also keeping up his equally useless appeals.

These finch contests were suggested after the meaning of the song of the
birds was learned. But when these birds, which are more usually isolated—
whence they have been named Fringilla cœlebs, or celibates—hop around
our houses and also utter their amorous trills at another than the mating
season, they are evidently not calling the female. Should we not then seek
to determine by the tone whether their call, which is always the same, is
amorous or not?

In countries where flocks of turkeys are raised one can learn very quickly
from their gobblings when they have captured a hare. If they meet him
standing still or lying down, they form in a circle around him, and, putting
their heads down, repeat continually their peculiar cries. The hare remains
quiet, and it is sometimes possible to take him up, terrorized as he is in the
midst of the black circle of gobbling beaks and heads. The language of the
turkeys is at that time incontestably significant. It is warlike, and similar to
that of the males when they are fighting. In the present instance they have
joined for war, and they make it on the frightened hare.

My Jaco, like all parrots, which are excellent imitators, pronounces a few
words and repeats them over and over again. Such birds amuse us because
the words they know sometimes happen to be ludicrously fitting. A bird of
this kind had been struck by the note sounded by the wind blowing into a
room through a crack in the glass work whenever a certain door was
opened; and he had become so perfect in his imitation that they sometimes,
on hearing the noise, went to shut the door when it was not open.

Jaco formerly belonged to a very pious old lady who was accustomed to say
her litanies with another person. He had caught the words "Pray for us," in
the invocations to the several saints, and said them so well as sometimes to
deceive his learned mistress, and cause her to think she was saying her
litanies with two colleagues. When Jaco was out of food, and any one
passed by him, he would say, "My poor Cocotte!" or "My poor rat!" in an
arch, mawkish, protracted tone that indicated very clearly what he wanted,
and that his drinking cup was empty. There was no doubt in the house as to
his meaning; and whenever one heard it he said: "He has nothing to eat." He
was exceedingly fond of fresh pits of apples and pears, and I was in the
habit of collecting them and keeping them to give him. So whenever, as I
came near him, I put my hand into my pocket he never failed to say: "Poor
Cocco!" in a supplicating tone which it was impossible to mistake. A sugar
plum is a choice morsel to him. He can tell what it is from a distance when I
hold it out in my fingers; and when I give it to him he cannot restrain
himself if it has been any considerable time since he has had the delicacy.
Usually, after having made the first motion to get it, as if he were ravished
and wanted to express his joy in advance, he would draw back before taking
it, and say, in a comical tone, "Hold, my poor Cocotte!" His manner of
thanking in advance is likewise amusing. The expression of his eyes and the
pose of his head are all in accord with the tone of his exclamation. When he
tastes the plum he utters a series of ahs, and produces a kind of warble by
prolonging some of his notes and shortening up others. We find in these
examples, without doubt, that the articulate voice makes us better able to
judge the meaning of the impressions that are moving the animal than
inarticulate cries, or merely musical sounds. When Jaco met a child for
whom he had a great affection, he would promenade on his perch, or turn
the wheel, spreading out his tail and ruffling the feathers of his head, while
his eyes grew red with excitement if the child was too slow in bestowing
the accustomed caress. Then he would stop, bend down his head, and,
looking at his friend, say pleasantly, "Jaco," in a tone and with a manner
quite in contrast with the pronunciation of the same word when he was
hungry.

It is not the word he speaks that is of interest; he might have been taught
another, and it would have been the same; but it is the tone. In this case, too,
the articulation gives an easier clew to the meaning the bird seeks to

express, having a meaning according to the manner of pronouncing it, than
any isolated, simply musical sound, like the song of the nightingale, canary
bird, and warbler. This became evident to me, not from observing animals
for a few moments without seeing them again, but from studying them
continuously.

Jaco did not like solitude, and was talkative and fond of being caressed, like
all of his kind. One day, when there was no one in the country house, all
having gone out into the garden or the fields, I heard him saying over what
few words he knew, in different inflections. I went quietly into the room
where he was, without being seen; but he heard my steps, although I walked
in very cautiously, hoping to surprise him. He ceased his chatter, listened,
and, after a silence, pronounced "Jaco" in a low tone, drawing out the end
of the word. He listened again, and repeated the word in the same tone;
then, after another silence, repeated it with a rise of the voice. I continued
observing him, and, as he heard no one, he raised his tone gradually,
repeating the same word, and ended at last with a genuine cry of distress.
The people ran in from without, supposing something had happened to him.
He then repeated his name in a lower tone, which seemed to indicate his
satisfaction at finding his isolation ended. I went in myself, and his prattle
unmistakably betrayed his gladness at being no longer alone.

Is there not in this an act of real intelligence? While alone, the parrot
entertained himself by talking; but when he heard a sound he hoped at first
to see some one come; and when no one answered him, he raised his voice,
as a person would do who calls, and, getting no reply, cried out louder and
louder till he was heard and answered. The meaning of the differences of
intonation is as evident in this case as in that of the drunken man. A parrot
raised in the South had learned to swear in the local patois. Being fond of
coffee, he was sometimes given a spoonful, which he would come
awkwardly up to the table to drink with his master. One day the master, not
thinking of his bird, had already added cognac to his coffee, and gave the
parrot the accustomed spoonful. The parrot took a swallow of it, and, in his
surprise at the novel taste, raised his head and repeated the oath in a tone
that excited laughter in all who were present. The cause of his surprise
being discovered, he was soothed, and then took his usual ration with

evident signs of contentment. The mimicry of language in this case clearly
represented the shade of the new impression he felt.

Jaco is very timid. In the evening, when he is put to roost in a close and
dark room, he is afraid of the shadow of his perch that is cast by the light
we carry in our hand; he eyes it, and utters a low cry, which stops when the
candle is blown out and he cannot see the shadow any longer. He stands in
dread of blows in the bottom of his cage, because, having a wing broken, he
cannot fly, and is afraid of falling. Feeling his weakness, his language has a
different tone from the usual one. Large birds flying in the sky above him
annoy him greatly, and we can all tell by his voice when such a bird is near
or flying over. He inclines his head and chatters in a low tone as long as the
bird is in sight, paying no attention to anything else. Turkeys and hens
announce the approach of a bird of prey in a similar manner.

We find in the facts which we have related, as well as in many others which
are cited respecting the ways and habits of parrots, proofs of a remarkable
intelligence. These creatures are distinguished by the unlimited affection
which they bestow upon some persons, as well as by their excessive
dislikes, which nothing can explain. Jaco conceived an extraordinary dislike
for a maid who, although she took good care of him, was in the habit of
washing the bottom of his cage under a faucet. He afterward discarded
another person, whom he had liked so much that she could do what she
pleased with him, even to passing her hand over his back and taking him by
the tail, holding him in her hands, or putting him in her apron—caresses of
a kind that parrots do not usually permit. Nothing astonished him or
offended him. He proved very inconstant toward her, and now, while better
disposed toward the other girl, he is furious against this one. A third miss
has come to capture his affection; and when he has been left asleep, or
resting in his cage, he has always the same word, but different in the
inflection wheedling, angry, or nearly indifferent, as either of the three
persons comes near him. Jaco's pronunciation is scanned in many meters.
Only one young student has had the privilege of retaining his affection
unmarred.

Jaco had been left in the country for a whole week in the winter. Alone and
isolated, he was taken care of by a person who was not constantly with him.

The young student, accompanied by a tutor, came to pass a few days in the
house. At the sight of the youth, Jaco, surprised, called out, "Momon!
Momon!" "It was affecting," they wrote me, "to see so great signs of joy." I
have also myself witnessed similar signs of joy at the coming of the student.
Jaco's speech at such times is always in harmony with his feelings. In the
pleasant season Jaco's cage is put outdoors; and at meal times, knowing
very well what is going on within, he keeps up a steady course of suppliant
appeals for attention. His appeals cease at once if I go out with fruit in my
hand, and if I go toward him he utters a prattle of joy that sounds like
musical laughter. These manifestations indicate that he is happy at seeing
that he has been thought of.

I close these anecdotes, as I began them, by repeating that animals
communicate their impressions, and the feelings that move them, by various
modulations of their inarticulate cries, which are incomprehensible to us
unless we have succeeded by attentive observation in connecting them with
the acts that follow or precede them. We have also seen that the articulation
of a few words learned by parrots aids us greatly in learning the meaning of
these different inflections.

The extension of these studies would furnish much of interest; but further
observations should be made upon the same animals for a longtime
continuously, relating especially to their peculiar instincts as manifested by
their various cries. We might then, by comparing and relating acts and cries,
reach the point of comprehending and perhaps fixing the meaning in many
cases where we are now in ignorance. Every one has noticed a few facts,
and has interpreted and related them, but much is still wanting for the co-
ordination of them in the point of view of the signification of the language
and communication of animals among themselves. It has not been made in a
general sense.—Translated for the Popular Science Monthly from the Revue
Scientifique.

MODIFICATION OF OUR CLIMATE.
By JOSEPH WALLACE.

Every now and then some weather sage predicts extremely cold winters,
and another ventures to say that the sun is gradually losing heat and in time
Arctic cold will prevail over the globe. Whatever may have been the
changes during the vast cycles of time prior to the advent of man, or
whatever may be the changes in the time to come, one thing is quite certain;
that our climate has been much modified within the past two or three
thousand years.

"There have been fifteen climatic changes since the beginning of the glacial
age, each change lasting 10,500 years, and each change reversing the
season in the two hemispheres, the pole which had enjoyed continuous
summer being doomed to undergo perpetual winter for 10,500 years, and
then passing to its former state for an equal term. The physical changes
upon the earth's surface during the past 80,000 years modified the changes
of climate even in the Arctic regions, so that the intense cold of the former
epochs was much modified during the latter epochs." Reckoning these
climatic changes in their order, we had entered the epoch of a more genial
temperature about fifteen hundred years ago; and if no disturbing change
takes place during the present epoch, we may reasonably expect a gradual
modification of our winters for nine thousand years to come. The changes
to intense cold from perpetual summer during the greater part of the glacial
period are supposed to have been caused by the high temperature of the
north pole as compared to that of the south pole, owing to the distribution of
land around the two, the south having almost none. Dr. Croll thinks it was
caused by the varying inclination of the earth's axis, which produced the
relative position of the two poles toward the sun to be periodically reversed
at distant periods. Dr. James Geikie agrees with Croll on the reverse of
seasons every 10,500 years during certain periods of high ellipticity of the
earth's orbit.

But it may be asked, "How could the fauna and flora propagate themselves
under such conditions?" The flora itself at the quaternary age was of
extreme vigor. We know this from the little which is left us, but more
especially from the presence of a large number of herbivorous animals—
stags, horses, elephants, rhinoceros, etc.—which animated the plains and
valleys of Europe and America at the same time. Evidently they could not
have lived and propagated themselves without abundant vegetation for
nourishment and development.

That which has deceived the adherents of the glacial theory, as understood
in its absolute sense, is, they have generally placed a too high estimate on
its extent and intensity. It needs but a little effort of the reasoning powers to
come to the conclusion that the earth had cooled to the degree that all
animal and vegetable life could exist upon it, and that a portion of the
earth's surface permanently covered with snow and ice was absolutely
indispensable to the existence, perpetuity, and well-being of animal and
vegetable life. Again, they have attributed to the glaciers the rocks, gravels,
and other material which they have found spread here and there long
distances from the mountains. The transportation of the so-called erratic
rocks has appeared inexplicable in any other way, and the piles of rock and
gravel have been considered so many moraines, that is, deposits of diverse
material transported by the glaciers. They do not regard the probability of
other agents taking the place of glaciers, and undervalue the moving power
of water. Water in liquid state has often produced analogous effects, and it
has often been the error of the glacialists to confound the one with the other.
The erratic rocks and the moraines are undoubtedly the ordinary indications
of the ancient gravels, but, taken isolatedly, they are not sufficient proof. In
order to convince they should be accompanied with a third indication,
which is the presence of striated rocks which we find in the neighborhood
of our actual glaciers. When all these signs are together then there is hardly
a possibility of error, but one alone is not sufficient, because it can be the
effect of another cause.

No doubt the temperature was really lower at the quaternary age and at the
epoch generally assigned to man's advent in European countries, but the
difference was not so great as some say. A lowering of four degrees is
sufficient to explain the ancient extension of the glaciers. We can look on

this figure as the maximum, for it is proved to-day that humanity played the
main role in the glacial phenomena. The beds of rivers and the alluvia are
there to tell that all the water was not in a solid state at that time, that the
glaciers were much more extended than in our days, and that the courses of
the rivers were infinitely more abundant. When this is understood we can
reasonably reduce the extension of the ancient glaciers, the lowering of the
temperature at the quaternary age, and account for the uninterrupted life of
the fauna and flora. However, we must not fall into the opposite excess and
assert, as some have done, that the glacial period is comparatively recent,
the traces of which are too plain and fresh in some localities to assign to it
an age prior to man, and that the temperature has rather lowered itself since
this epoch. The ancient extension of the glaciers has been followed by a
corresponding growth and extension of animal life, thus proving that the
permanence of glaciers is a wise provision and absolutely essential to man
and the high orders of animals and vegetation. The ancient extension does
not prove alone that it was much colder than in historic times, for the
animals themselves are proof of this. At that time the plains of Europe, and
of France in particular, were animated by herds of reindeer, gluttons,
camels, and marmots, which one does not find to-day except in the higher
latitudes or more considerable heights. The mammoth and rhinoceros are no
exception to this, for naturalists know they were organized to live in cold
countries.

Space will not permit us to pursue this point further, or speculate on the
probable climatic conditions of the ice age; but we can carry ourselves back
a few thousand years and describe the climate of Europe and neighboring
countries of Africa and Asia. Herodotus describes the climate of Scythia in
terms which would indicate in our day the countries of Lapland and
Greenland. He shows us the country completely frozen during eight months
of the year; the Black Sea frozen up so that it bore the heaviest loads; the
region of the Danube buried under snow for eight months, and watered in
summer by the abundant rains which gave to the river its violent course.
The historian adds that the ass cannot live in Scythia on account of the
extreme cold which reigns there. The following century Aristotle makes the
same remarks concerning Gaul. His contemporary, Theophrastes, tells us
that the olive tree did not succeed in Greece more than five hundred

furlongs from the sea. We can assure ourselves that both the ass and the
olive thrive in these countries at the present day.

Three centuries later, Cæsar speaks frequently and emphatically of the rigor
of winters and early setting in of cold in France, the abundance of snow and
rain, and the number of lakes and marshes which became every moment
serious obstacles to the army. He says he is careful not to undertake any
expedition except in summer. Cicero, Varro, Possidonius, and Strabo insist
equally on the rigor of the climate of Gaul, which allows neither the culture
of the vine nor the olive. Diodorus of Sicily confirms this information: "The
cold of the winters in Gaul is such that almost all the rivers freeze up and
form natural bridges, over which numerous armies pass quite safely with
teams and baggages; in order to hinder the passengers to slip out upon the
ice and to render the marching more secure, they spread straw thereon."

Virgil and Ovid insist on the severity of cold in the regions of the Danube.
The first describes the inhabitants of these miserable countries withdrawing
themselves into caves dressed with the skins of wild beasts. Ovid, who had
passed several years of his life in that region, is more precise in his
description. He says the wine has changed itself here (Black Sea) into a
solid frozen mass; one gives it to drink by pieces. Fearing of being accused
of poetic exaggeration he appeals to the testimony of two ancient governors
of Moesia, who could establish the facts like himself. The author who
would give such accounts of the Black Sea in our days would risk his
reputation for veracity.

Italy, too, experienced its part of the cold in early days. Virgil tells us of the
snows being, heaped up, rivers which carried ice along, the sad winter
which split the stone and bound up the course of large streams, and all this
in the warmest part of Italy, at the base of the walls of Taranto. Heratius
affirms that the Soracte, a neighboring mountain of Rome, was whitened
with thick snow, rivers frozen, and the country covered with snow. To-day
the snow stays very little upon the Soracte and never in the country around
Rome. During the four or five centuries which followed, writers speak of
the severity of climate in Northern Italy, the lagoons on the Adriatic being
frozen over. Algiers was much colder then than now. The Danube, Rhine,
and other rivers in Europe, the Nile in Africa, the Amazon in South

America, the Mississippi and Missouri in North America, had quite
different volumes two thousand years ago than their present actual ones,
and they especially rolled much greater masses of water.

There is everything to show a modification of climate in our own days. If
this goes on in the future as in the past, there will be a marked difference in
the temperature two or three hundred years from now. Even a degree in a
thousand years would effect a great change in the course of time. The
lowering of four degrees established the ancient extension of glaciers,
though it did not interrupt animal or vegetable life. Fifty-four of the fifty-
seven species of Mollusca have outlived the glacial age, and all our savage
animals—even a certain number which have disappeared—date equally
from the quaternary, and were contemporary with the great extension of the
glaciers.—Popular Science News.

THE ERUPTION OF KRAKATOA.
Before the year 1883 physical geographers, in speaking of the most
disastrous volcanic eruption on record, referred first, in point of time, to the
celebrated eruption of Vesuvius, in A.D. 79, when the cities of
Herculaneum, Pompeii and several smaller towns on the slope of the
mountain were destroyed by lava or buried under a mass of pumice stones
and ashes; second to that of Hecla and Skaptar Jokull, contiguous
mountains in Iceland, in 1783, when two enormous lava streams, one 15
miles wide and over 100 ft. deep and the other scarcely inferior, flowed, the
first, 50 miles and the other 40, till they reached the sea, pouring a flood of
white hot lava into the ocean, destroying everything in their paths and
killing in the waters of the ocean the fish, the mainstay of the inhabitants,
who were reduced by the disaster, directly or indirectly, to less than five-
sixths of their former strength; and third to that of Galungung, in 1822,
which devastated such an immense area in Java; but all the eruptions known
besides were as mere child's play to the terrible one of Krakatoa in 1883.

If the reader will examine the map of the East Indies he will find
represented in the straits of Sunda, which lie between Sumatra and Java, the
little island of Krakatoa. In maps made before 1883 he will hunt in vain for
the name, for like Bull Run before 1861, it was then unknown to fame,
though navigators who passed through the straits knew it as a beautiful
tropical isle, with an extinct volcanic cone in the center. In the beginning of
1883, however, the little well behaved island showed symptoms of wrath
that boded no good to the larger islands in the vicinity. Noted for the fine
fruits with which it abounded, it was a famous picnic ground for towns and
cities even 100 miles away, and when the subterranean rumblings and
mutterings of wrath became conspicuous the people of the capital of Java,
Batavia, put a steamboat into requisition and visited the island in large
numbers. For a time the island was constantly in a slight tremor, and the
subterranean roar was like the continued but distant mutterings of thunder,
but the crisis was reached August 23, at 10 o'clock A.M. It was a beautiful
Sunday morning and the waters of the straits of Sunda were like that sea of

glass, as clear as crystal, of which John in his apocalyptic vision speaks.
The beauty that morning was enhanced by the extraordinary transparency of
the tropical air, for distant mountain ranges seemed so near that it seemed
possible to strike them with a stone cast from the hand. Only the mysterious
rumblings and mutterings of the pent up forces beneath the island disturbed
the breathless calm and silence that lay on nature—the calm before the
terrible storm—the mightiest, the most awful on record! It burst forth!
Sudden night snatched away day from the eyes of the terrified beholders on
the mainland, but the vivid play of lightnings around the ascending column
of dust penetrated even the deep obscurity to a distance of 80 miles. This
awful darkness stretched within a circle whose diameter was 400 miles,
while more or less darkness reigned within a circle with a diameter three
times as great. Within this latter area dust fell like snow from the sky,
breaking off limbs of trees by its weight miles distant, while in Batavia, 100
miles away from the scene of the disaster, it fell to the depth of several
inches. The explosions were so loud as to be distinctly heard in Hindostan,
1,800 miles away, and at Batavia the sound was like the constant roar of
cannon in a field of battle. Finally the whole island was blown to pieces,
and now came the most awful contest of nature—a battle of death between
Neptune and Vulcan; the sea poured down into the chasm millions of tons,
only to be at first converted into vapor by the millions of tons of seething
white hot lava beneath. Over the shores 30 miles away, waves over 100 ft.
high rolled with such a fury that everything, even to a part of the bedrock,
was swept away. Blocks of stone, of 50 tons weight were carried two miles
inland. On the Sumatra side of the straits a large vessel was carried three
miles inland. The wave, of course growing less in intensity, traveled across
the whole Indian Ocean, 5,000 miles, to the Cape of Good Hope and around
it into the Atlantic. The waves in the atmosphere traveled around the globe
three times at the rate of 700 miles per hour. The dust from the volcano was
carried up into the atmosphere fully twenty miles and the finest of it was
distributed through the whole body of air. The reader doubtless remembers
the beautiful reddish or purple glow at sunrise and sunset for fully six
months after August, 1883—that glow was caused by volcanic dust in the
atmosphere interfering with the passage of the sun's rays of the upper part
of the solar spectrum, more manifest at sun rising and setting than at other
times during the day, because at these periods the sun's rays have to travel

obliquely through the atmosphere, and consequently penetrating a very
deep layer, were deprived of all their colors except the red.

The loss of life was appalling. The last sight on earth to 35,000 people was
that of the awful eruption. Engulfed in the ocean or covered with heaps of
ashes, a few hours after the eruption commenced the awful work was done,
and that vast multitude had vanished from off the face of the earth. The fact
that in the neighborhood of the mountain there was a sparse population
accounts for there not being even a far greater loss of life.

Notwithstanding the awfulness of volcanic and earthquake phenomena,
there is some silver lining to the dark clouds. They prove that the earth is
yet a living planet. Centuries must pass away before it will become like the
moon—a dead planet—without water, air or life. Our satellite is a prophecy
indeed of what the earth must eventually become when all its life forces, its
internal energies, are dissipated into space.—Granville F. Foster, Min. Sci.
Press.

PENTAPTERYGIUM SERPENS.
This is one of five species of Himalayan plants which, until recently, were
included in the genus vaccinium. The new name for them is ugly enough to
make one wish that they were vacciniums still. Pentapterygium serpens is
the most beautiful of the lot, and, so far as I know, this and P. rugosum are
the only species in cultivation in England. The former was collected in the
Himalayas about ten years ago by Captain Elwes, who forwarded it to Kew,
where it grows and flowers freely under the same treatment as suits Cape
heaths. Sir Joseph Hooker says it is abundant on the Sikkim mountains at
from 3,000 to 8,000 feet elevation, and that it usually grows on the stout
limbs of lofty trees. In this it resembles many of the rhododendrons of that
region, and it has been suggested that they are epiphytic from force of
circumstances, not from choice. On the ground they would have no chance
against the other vegetation, which would strangle or starve them out.
Remove them from this struggle for existence, and they at once show their
preference for rich soil and plenty of it. All the pentapterygiums have the
lower part of the stem often swelling out into a prostrate trunk, as thick as a
man's leg sometimes, and sending out stout branching roots which cling
tightly round the limbs of the tree upon which it grows. These swollen
stems are quite succulent, and they serve as reservoirs of moisture and
nourishment. In the wet season they push out new shoots, from which grow
rapidly wands three or four feet long, clothed with box-like leaves, and
afterward with numerous pendulous flowers. These are elegant in shape and
richly colored. They are urn-shaped, with five ribs running the whole length
of the corolla, and their color is bright crimson with deeper colored V-
shaped veins, as shown in the illustration of the flowers of almost natural
size. They remain fresh upon the plant for several weeks. The beautiful
appearance of a well grown specimen when in flower may be seen from the
accompanying sketch of the specimen at Kew, which was at its best in July,
and remained in bloom until the middle of September.

PENTAPTERYGIUM SERPENS (FLOWERS NEARLY NATURAL SIZE)

P. rugosum is also grown as a greenhouse plant at Kew, where it has been in
cultivation about twenty years. It has larger leaves and a more bushy habit
than P. serpens, while the flowers are produced in fascicles on the old wood.
They are as large as those here figured, but differ in color, being whitish,
with brown-red V-shaped marks. Both species may be propagated from
cuttings. The plants thrive in sandy peat, and they like plenty of moisture at
all times.—W. Watson, in The Gardeners' Magazine.

PENTAPTERYGIUM SERPENS (FLOWERS DEEP CRIMSON)

THE PERFORATION OF FLOWERS.
The subject of the relations and adaptations which exist between flowers
and insects does not appear to excite as much popular attention as many
other branches of natural science which are no more interesting. Sprengel,
Darwin, and Hermann Muller have been the chief authors in giving us our
present knowledge and interest in the study; Sir John Lubbock has helped to
popularize it, and Prof. W. Trelease and others have carried on the work in
this country.

The perforation as well as the fertilization of flowers has received attention,
but there is a wide field for further study for those who have leisure to
pursue it, as it requires much time and patience, as well as closeness and
accuracy of observation.

The accompanying figures, from drawings by Mr. C.E. Faxon, show a few
characteristic perforations and mutilations, and also represent two of the
principal kinds of insects which make them.

Any one interested in the subject will find an excellent brief review of the
work already done, a fair bibliography, and a list of perforated flowers in
Professor L.H. Pammel's paper on the "Perforation of Flowers," in the
Transactions of the St. Louis Academy of Science, vol. v., pp. 246-277.

The general beauty of flowers is usually not greatly marred by the
perforations except in a few cases, as when the spurs of columbines and
corollas of trumpet creepers are much torn, which frequently happens.

The great object of the perforations by insects is the obtaining of the
concealed nectar in an easy way. Very naturally, flowers which depend on
insect agency for fertilization rarely produce seed when punctured if they
are not also entered in the normal way. Perforating is only practiced by a
small number of species of insects, and many but not all of the perforators
do so because their tongues are too short to reach the nectar by entering the

flower. Some obtain nectar from the same kind of flower both in the normal
way and by perforating.

The chief perforators of flowers, in this part of the continent at least, appear
to be some kinds of humble bees (Bombus) and carpenter bees (Xylocopa).
These insects have developed an unerring instinct as to the proper point to
perforate the corollas from the outside, in order to readily get at the nectar.
The holes made by the humble bees and by the carpenter bees are usually
quite different and easily distinguished.

The humble bees have short, stout, blunt jaws, ill adapted for cutting, and
the perforations made by them are apparently always irregular in shape, and
have jagged edges. It has been stated that the humble bees often bore
through the tubes of their corollas with their maxillæ, but in all cases
observed by me the mandibles were first brought into use in effecting an
opening. The noise caused by the tearing is often audible for a distance of
several feet.

The true jaws of the carpenter bees are not any more prominent or better
adapted for making clean-cut perforations than those of the humble bees;
but behind the jaws there is a pair of long, sharp-pointed, knife-like, jointed
organs (maxillæ) which seem to be exclusively used on all ordinary
occasions in making perforations. The inner edges of these maxillæ are
nearly straight, and when brought together they form a sharp-pointed,
wedge-shaped, plow-like instrument which makes a clean, narrow,
longitudinal slit when it is inserted in the flower and shoved forward. The
slits made by it are often not readily seen, because the elasticity of the
tissues of some flowers causes them to partially close again. When not in
use the instrument can be folded back, so that it is not conspicuous. The
ordinary observer usually sees no difference between the humble bees and
the carpenter bees, but they may be readily distinguished by a little close
observation.

THE PERFORATION OF FLOWERS.
1. Xylocopa and heads of male and female. 2. Bombus and head. 3.
Dicentra spectabilis, showing punctures. 4. Ribes aureum. 5. Ligustrum
Ibota. 6. Æsculus glabra. 7. Lonicera involucrata. 8. Caragana arborescens.
9. Andromeda Japonica. 10. Buddleia Japonica. 11. Mertensia Virginica. 12.
Rhododendron arborescens. 13. Corydalis bulbosa.

No doubt, in some of the recorded cases of perforations, carpenter bees
have been mistaken for humble bees. The heads of all our Northern humble
bees are rather narrow, retreating from the antennæ toward the sides, and
with a more or less dense tuft of hair between the antennæ. The abdomen,
as well as the thorax, is always quite densely covered with hair, which may
be black or yellowish or in bands of either color. With possibly one or two
exceptions, the only species I have seen doing the puncturing is Bombus
affinis, Cresson.

The carpenter bees (Xylocopa Virginica) of this region have the head very
broad and square in front, and with no noticeable hair between the antennæ.
The heads of the male and female differ strikingly. In the male the eyes are
lighter colored and are hardly half as far apart as in the female, and the

lower part of the face is yellowish white. The female has eyes smaller,
darker, and very far apart, and the whole face is perfectly black. The
abdomen is broad, of a shining blue-black color, very sparsely covered with
black hairs, except on the first large segment nearest the thorax. On this
segment they are more dense and of the same tawny color as those on the
thorax. But it is particularly from the character of the head that the amateur
observer of the perforators may soon learn to distinguish between a
Xylocopa and a Bombus as they work among the flowers. It is also
interesting to know that the Xylocopas are not so inclined to sting as the
humble bees, and the males, of course, being without stinging organs, may
be handled with impunity.

Among other insects, honey bees have been said to perforate flowers, but
authentic instances are rare of their doing much damage, or even making
holes. I have only recorded a single instance, and in this a honey bee was
seen to perforate the fragile spurs of Impatiens. When searching for nectar
they quite commonly use the perforations of other insects. Wasps and other
allied insects also perforate for nectar. My only observations being a Vespa
puncturing Cassandra calyculata, an Andrena (?) perforating the spurs of
Aguilegia, and Adynerus foraminatus biting holes close to the base on the
upper side of rhododendron flowers. The holes made by some of the wasp-
like insects are often more or less circular and with clean-cut edges. The
ravages committed by larvæ, beetles and other insects in devouring flowers,
or parts of them, do not properly come under the head of perforations.

The question as to the cause of the handsome corollas of the trumpet
creeper (Tecoma radicans) being so often split and torn has been accounted
for in various ways in published notes on the subject. Humming birds and
ants have been blamed, the humming birds being such constant visitors of
these flowers that it really seemed as though they must be the authors of the
mischief. I have often watched them when they appeared as though they
were pecking at the blossoms, but careful examinations, both before and
after their visits, always failed to show any trace of injury. Finally, on July
26, 1890, I was rewarded by seeing a number of Baltimore orioles
vigorously pecking at and tearing open a lot of fresh blossoms, and this
observation was afterward repeated. That the oriole should do this was not

surprising, considering its known habits in relation to some other flowers.
J.G. JACK.

[Mr. Jack adds a list of sixteen plants whose flowers he has seen punctured
by the carpenter bee and seventeen others whose flowers were punctured by
the humble bee. He names more than thirty other flowers which he has
found perforated without having seen or identified the authors of the
mischief.—ED.]—Garden and Forest.

ELECTRICITY IN HORTICULTURE.
The influence of electricity upon vegetation has been the subject of
numerous investigations. Some have been made to ascertain the effects of
the electric current through the soil; others to ascertain the effect of the
electric light upon growth through the air. Among the latter are those of
Prof. L.H. Bailey of the Cornell University Agricultural Experiment Station.
In Bulletin No. 30 of the Horticultural Department is given an account of
experiments with the electric light upon the growth of certain vegetables,
like endive, spinach, and radish; and upon certain flowers like the
heliotrope, petunia, verbena primula, etc. The results are interesting and
somewhat variable. The forcing house where the experiments were carried
on was 20 × 60 ft., and was divided into two portions by a partition. In one
of these the plants received light from the sun by day and were in darkness
at night. In the other they received the sunlight and in addition had the
benefit of an arc light the whole or a part of the night. The experiment
lasted from January until April during two years, six weeks of the time the
first year with a naked light and the balance of the time with the light
protected by an ordinary white globe. It is not the purpose here to enter into
any great details, but to give the general conclusions.

The effect of the naked light running all night was to hasten maturity, the
nearer the plants being to the light the greater being the acceleration. The
lettuce, spinach, etc., "ran to seed" in the "light" house long before similar
plants in the dark. An examination of the spinach leaves with the
microscope showed the same amount of starch in each, but in the electric
light plants the grains were larger, had more distinct markings and gave a
deeper color with iodine.

With lettuce it was found that the nearer the plants were to the light the
worse the effect; and conversely those furthest away were the best
developed. Cress and endive gave the same results. In the case of the latter,
some of the plants were shaded from the light by an iron post, and these
grew better and were larger than those exposed to its direct rays. The
average weight of eight plants in full light was 49.6 grains, as opposed to an

average of six plants in the shade of 93.8 grains. Radishes were strongly
attracted to the light and moved toward it during the night. During the day
they straightened up, but moved again toward the light at night. The plants
nearest the lamp made a poor growth and were nearly dead at the end of six
weeks. Averaging the weight of plant, of top and of tuber, it was found that
those grown in the dark were heavier in every instance than those grown in
the light; and the percentage of marketable tubers from the light-grown
plants was twenty-seven, as opposed to seventy-eight in the dark. Chemical
analyses showed the plants in the light to be more mature than those in the
dark, although they were much smaller. Dwarf peas showed the same facts,
those in full light being smaller than those in the dark. The former bloomed
a week earlier than the latter, but the production of seed was less, being
only about four-sevenths as great.

Further experiments were made by excluding the sun during the day and
exposing the plants to the diffused electric light only. In all cases, with
radishes, lettuce, peas, corn, and potatoes, the plants died in about four
weeks. Only a little starch and no chlorophyl was found in the plants
deprived of sunlight and only receiving the electric light. Thus the
experiments with a naked light showed conclusively that "within range of
an ordinary forcing house the naked arc light running continuously through
the night is injurious to some plants." In no case did it prove profitable.

Experiments with the light inclosed in a white globe and running all night
were different in their results. The effect was much less marked. Lettuce
was decidedly better in the light house; radishes were thrifty but did not
produce as much as in the dark house. A third series of experiments with the
naked light running a part of the night only were also made. Radishes, peas,
lettuce, and many flowers were experimented upon. The lettuce was greatly
benefited by the light. "Three weeks after transplanting (Feb. 5)," we are
told, "both varieties in the lighthouse were fully 50 per cent. in advance of
those in the dark house in size, and the color and other characters of the
plants were fully as good. The plants had received at this time 70½ hours of
electric light. Just a month later the first heads were sold from the light
house, but it was six weeks later when the first heads were sold from the
dark house. In other words, the electric light plants were two weeks ahead

of the others. This gain had been purchased by 161¾ hours of electric light,
worth at current prices of street lighting about $7."

This experiment was repeated with the same results. In the second
experiment the plants receiving eighty-four hours of electric light, costing
$3.50, were ready for market ten days before the plants in the dark house.
The influence of the light upon color of flowers was variable. With tulips
the colors of the lighted plants were deeper and richer than the others, but
they faded after four or five days. Verbenas were injured in every case,
being of shorter growth and losing their flowers sooner than those in the
dark house. "Scarlet, dark red, blue and pink flowers within three feet of the
light soon turned to a grayish white." Chinese primulas seven feet from the
light were unaffected, but those four feet away were changed. Lilac colors
were bleached to pure white when the light struck them fairly. An elaborate
series of tables of the effect of the light is given in the paper. The author
believes it possible that the electric light may be used some day to
pecuniary advantage in floricultural establishments.

These experiments naturally open up many questions. Those which will be
of most importance to the practical man will be such as relate to the benefits
to be derived from the use of the electric light. That electricity has a great
effect upon vegetation can no longer be denied. What remains now is to
ascertain how to use the force with the most economy and to the best
advantage. If by its use early vegetables will be made earlier, bright flowers
be made brighter, it will be a question of only a short time before it will
come into general use. To the student of plant physiology there are also
many questions of interest, but into these it is not the intention to enter.
Prof. Bailey's general conclusions are, in part, as follows: "There are a few
points which are clear: the electric light promotes assimilation, it often
hastens growth and maturity, it is capable of producing natural flavors and
colors in fruits, it often intensifies colors of flowers and sometimes
increases the production of flowers. The experiments show that periods of
darkness are not necessary to the growth and development of plants. There
is every reason, therefore, to suppose that the electric light can be profitably
used in the growing of plants. It is only necessary to overcome the
difficulties, the chief of which are the injurious influences upon plants near
the light, the too rapid hastening to maturity in some species, and in short

the whole series of practical adjustments of conditions to individual
circumstances. Thus far, to be sure, we have learned more of the injurious
effects than of the beneficial ones, but this only means that we are acquiring
definite facts concerning the whole influence of electric light upon
vegetation; and in some cases, notably in our lettuce tests, the light has
already been found to be a useful adjunct to forcing establishments.... It is
highly probable that there are certain times in the life of the plant when the
electric light will prove to be particularly helpful. Many experiments show
that injury follows its use at that critical time when the planetlet is losing its
support from the seed and is beginning to shift for itself, and other
experiments show that good results follow from its later use.... On the
whole, I am inclined toward Siemens' view that there is a future for electro-
horticulture."

JOSEPH P. JAMES.
Washington, Jan. 20, 1892.

ELECTRICITY IN AGRICULTURE.
By CLARENCE D. WARNER.

It is well known that currents of electricity exist in the atmosphere. Clouds
are charged and discharged. There is a constant change of electricity from
earth to air and from air to earth, the latter being the great reservoir for all
electricity. Hills, mountain peaks, trees, high chimneys, spires, in fact all
points elevated above the earth's surface assist greatly in charging and
discharging the atmosphere. Again, if two iron rods are driven into the earth
and connected by a copper wire with an electrometer in the circuit, the
instrument is almost immediately affected, showing that currents of
electricity are running through the ground. Now, what is the function of
these atmospheric and ground electric currents? Many scientists are agreed
that certain forms of precipitation are due to electrical action; but my
observations have led me to believe conclusively that electricity is a potent
factor in the economy of nature, and has more to do with the growth and
development of plants than has hitherto been known. Davy succeeded in the
decomposition of the alkalies, potash and soda, by means of electric
currents. In our laboratories, water and ternary compounds are rapidly
decomposed by the battery, and we may reasonably suppose that that which
is effected in our laboratories by artificial means takes place in the great
laboratory of nature on a grander and more extended scale.

Plant food is carried throughout the plant by means of the flow of sap; these
currents circulate through all the rootlets and center, as it were, in the stalk,
carrying their tiny burdens of various elements and depositing them in their
proper places. That this phenomenon of circulation is due to electricity
cannot be doubted. Most plants grow more rapidly during the night than in
the day. May not the following be a reason for this?

We have already mentioned how electric currents pass from air to earth and
vice versa; at night the plant is generally covered with dew and the plant
itself becomes a good conductor, and, consequently, currents of electricity

pass to each through this medium, and during the passage convert soil
elements into plant food and stimulate the upward currents to gather up the
dissolved elements and carry them to their proper places.

From the time electricity became a science, much research has been made
to determine its effect, if any, upon plant growth. The earlier investigations
gave in many cases contradictory results. Whether this was due to a lack of
knowledge of the science on the part of the one performing the experiments,
or some defect in the technical applications, we are not prepared to say; but
this we do know, that such men as Jolabert, Nollet, Mainbray and other
eminent physicists affirmed that electricity favored the germination of seeds
and accelerated the growth of plants; while, on the other hand, Ingenhouse,
Sylvestre and other savants denied the existence of this electric influence.
The heated controversies and animated discussions attending the opposing
theories stimulated more careful and thorough investigations, which
establish beyond a doubt that electricity has a beneficial effect on
vegetation. Sir Humphry Davy, Humboldt, Wollaston and Becquerel
occupied themselves with the theoretical side of the question; but it was not
till after 1845 that practical electroculture was undertaken. Williamson
suggested the use of gigantic electrostatic machines, but the attempts were
fruitless. The methods most generally adopted in experiments consisted of
two metallic plates—one of copper and one of zinc—placed in the soil and
connected by a wire. Sheppard employed the method in England in 1846
and Forster used the same in Scotland. In the year 1847 Hubeck in
Germany surrounded a field with a network of wires. Sheppard's
experiments showed that electricity increased the return from root crops,
while grass perished near the electrodes, and plants developed without the
use of electricity were inferior to those grown under its influence. Hubeck
came to the conclusion that seeds germinated more rapidly and buckwheat
gave larger returns; in all other cases the electric current produced no result.
Professor Fife in England and Otto von Ende in Germany carried on
experiments at the same time, but with negative results, and these scientists
advised the complete abandonment of applying electricity to agriculture.
After some years had elapsed Fichtner began a series of experiments in the
same direction. He employed a battery, the two wires of which were placed
in the soil parallel to each other. Between the wires were planted peas, grass
and barley, and in every case the crop showed an increase of from thirteen

to twenty-seven per cent. when compared with ordinary methods of
cultivation.

Fischer, of Waldheim, believing atmospheric electricity to aid much in the
growth and development of plants, made the following tests:

He placed metallic supports to the number of about sixty around each
hectare (2.47 acres) of loam; these supports were provided at their summits
with electrical accumulators in the form of crowns surmounted with teeth.
These collectors were united by metallic connection. The result of this
culture applied to cereals was to increase the crop by half.

The following experiment was also tried: Metallic plates sixty-five
centimeters by forty centimeters were placed in the soil. These plates were
alternately of zinc and copper and placed about thirty meters apart,
connected two and two, by a wire. The result was to increase from twofold
to fourfold the production of certain garden plants. Mr. Fischer says that it
is evidently proved that electricity aids in the more complete breaking up of
the soil constituents. Finally he says that plants thus treated mature more
quickly, are almost always perfectly healthy, and are not affected with
fungoid growth.

Later, N. Specnew, inspired by the results arrived at by his predecessors,
was led to investigate the influence of electricity on plants in every stage of
their development; the results of his experiments were most satisfactory and
of practical interest. He began by submitting different seeds to the action of
an electric current, and found that their development was rendered more
rapid and complete. He experimented with the seeds of haricot beans,
sunflowers, winter and spring rye. Two lots, of twelve groups of one
hundred and twenty seeds each, were plunged into water until they swelled,
and while wet the seeds were introduced into long glass cylinders, open at
both ends. Copper disks were pressed against the seeds, the disks were
connected with the poles of an induction coil, the current was kept on for
one or two minutes and immediately afterward the seeds were sown. The
temperature was kept from 45° to 50° Fahrenheit, and the experiments
repeated four times. The following table shows the results:

Peas. Beans. Barley. Sunflowers.
Days. Days. Days. Days.
Electrified seeds developed in 2.5 3 2 8.5
Non-electrified seeds developed in 4 6 5 15

It was also observed that the plants coming from electrified seeds were
better developed, their leaves were much larger and their color brighter than
in those plants growing from non-electrified seeds. The current did not
affect the yield.

At the Botanical Gardens at Kew, the following experiment was tried:

Large plates of zinc and copper (0.445 meter and 0.712 meter) were placed
in the soil and connected by wires, so arranged that the current passed
through the ground; the arrangement was really a battery of (zinc | earth |
copper). This method was applied to pot herbs and flowering plants and
also to the growing of garden produce; in the latter case the result was a
large crop and the vegetables grown were of enormous size.

Extensive experiments in electroculture were also made at Pskov, Russia.
Plots of earth were sown to rye, corn, oats, barley, peas, clover and flax;
around these respective plots were placed insulating rods, on the top of
which were crown-shaped collectors—the latter connected by means of
wires. Atmospheric electricity was thus collected above the seeds, and the
latter matured in a highly electrified atmosphere; the plots were submitted
to identical conditions and the experiments were carried on for five years.
The results showed a considerable increase in the yield of seed and straw,
the ripening was more rapid and the barley ripened nearly two weeks earlier
with electroculture. Potatoes grown by the latter method were seldom
diseased, only to 5 per cent., against 10 to 40 per cent. by ordinary culture.

Grandeau, at the School of Forestry at Nancy, found by experiment that the
electrical tension always existing between the upper air and soil stimulated
growth. He found plants protected from the influence were less vigorous
than those subject to it.

Macagno, also believing that the passage of electricity from air through the
vine to earth would stimulate growth, selected a certain number of vines, all
of the same variety and all in the same condition of health and
development. Sixteen vines were submitted to experiment and sixteen were
left to natural influences. In the ends of the vines under treatment, pointed
platinum wires were inserted, to which were attached copper wires, leading
to the tops of tall poles near the vines; at the base of these same vines other
platinum wires were inserted and connected by copper wires with the soil.
At the close of the experiment, which began April 15, and lasted till
September 16, the wood, leaves and fruit of both sets of vines were
submitted to careful analysis with the following results:

Without conductor. With conductor.
Moisture per cent. 78.21 79.84
Sugar. 16.86 18.41
Tartaric acid. 0.880 0.791
Bitartrate of potash. 0.180 0.186

Thus we see that the percentage of moisture and sugar is greater and the
undesirable acid lower in those vines subject to electrical influences than in
those left to natural conditions. There are also experiments which prove the
beneficial effects of electricity on vines attacked by phylloxera.

The following experiments were made at this station: Several plots were
prepared in the greenhouse, all of which had the same kind of soil and were
subjected to like influences and conditions. Frames in the form of a
parallelogram, about three feet by two feet, were put together; across the
narrow way were run copper wires in series of from four to nine strands,
each series separated by a space about four inches wide, and the strands by
a space of one-half inch. These frames were buried in the soil of the plot at
a little depth, so that the roots of the garden plants set would come in
contact with the wires, the supposition being that the currents of electricity
passing along the wires would decompose into its constituents the plant
food in the vicinity of the roots and more readily prepare it for the plants.
Two electric gardens were thus prepared and each furnished with two
common battery cells, so arranged as to allow continuous currents to pass
through each series of wires. Near each electric garden was a plot prepared

in the same manner, save the electrical apparatus. We will call the two
gardens A and B.

The place chosen for the experiments was in a part of the greenhouse which
is given up largely to the raising of lettuce, and the gardens were located
where much trouble from mildew had been experienced. The reason for this
choice of location was to notice, if any, the effect of electricity upon
mildew, this disease being, as it is well known, a source of much trouble to
those who desire to grow early lettuce. The soil was carefully prepared, the
material taken from a pile of loam commonly used in the plant house.

Garden A was located where mildew had been the most detrimental; the
experiments began the first of January and closed the first of April. For the
garden, fifteen lettuce plants of the head variety were selected, all of the
same size and of the same degree of vitality, as nearly as could be
determined; the plants were set directly over the wires, so that the roots
were in contact with the latter; the plants were well watered and cared for as
in ordinary culture, and the fluid in the battery cells was renewed from time
to time, that the current of electricity might not become too feeble. At the
close of the experiments the following results were noted:

Five plants died from mildew, the others were well developed and the heads
large. The largest heads were over the greatest number of wires and nearest
the electrodes. It was further noticed that the healthiest and largest plants, as
soon as the current became feeble or ceased altogether, began to be affected
with mildew. On examining the roots of the plants it was found that they
had grown about the wires as if there they found the greatest amount of
nourishment; the roots were healthy and in no way appeared to have been
injured by the current, but, rather, much benefited by the electrical
influences.

Beside garden A was prepared another plot of the same dimensions, having
the same kind of soil and treated in like manner as the first, but the
electrical apparatus and wires were wanting. At the close of the experiments
only three plants had partially developed, and two of these were nearly
destroyed by mildew—one only was free from the disease. The results,
therefore, show that the healthiest and largest plants grew in the electric
plot.

In the second experiment, which we called B, twenty plants of the same
variety of lettuce and of equal size were taken. The treatment given was the
same as the plants in plot A received. Five plants only remained unaffected
with mildew; seven died from the disease when they were half grown; the
rest were quite well developed, but at the last part of the experiment began
to be affected. Several heads were large, the largest being over the greatest
number of wires and nearest the electrodes. Examination of the roots
disclosed the same phenomena as in A.

Near plot B were also set twenty other plants, subjected to like conditions
as the first, but without electricity; all but one died from mildew before they
were half grown, the solitary plant that survived being only partly
developed at the close of the experiment, and even this was badly affected
with the disease.

Everything considered, the results were in favor of electricity. Those plants
subjected to the greatest electrical influence were hardier, healthier, larger,
had a better color, and were much less affected by mildew than the others.
Experiments were made with various grasses, but no marked results were
obtained.

The question would naturally arise whether there may not be a limit reached
where electricity would completely overcome the attack of mildew and
stimulate the plant to a healthy and vigorous condition throughout its entire
growth. From the fact that the hardiest, healthiest, and largest heads of
lettuce grew over the greatest number of currents and nearest the electrodes,
it would seem that electricity is one of the agents employed by nature to aid
in supplying the plant with nourishment and to stimulate its growth. To
what extent plants may be submitted to electrical influence, or what
strength of current is best suited to them and what currents prove
detrimental to their development, have not been determined as yet, but it is
desirable to continue this research until some definite information shall be
gained on these points. Probably different varieties of plants differ greatly
in their capacity for enduring the action of electric currents without injury—
experiment alone must determine this.

It has been proved that the slow discharge of static electricity facilitates the
assimilation of nitrogen by plants. Faraday showed that plants grown in

metallic cages, around which circulated electric currents, contained 50 per
cent. less organic matter than plants grown in the open air. It would seem
from the researches of the latter physicist that those plants requiring a large
percentage of nitrogen for their development would be remarkably
benefited if grown under electric influence.—Massachusetts Agricultural
College, Bulletin No 16.

[A very interesting article on the Influence of Electricity upon Plants,
illustrated, is given in SUPPLEMENT 806. It presents the results of the
studies of Prof. Lemstrom, of Helsingfors.]

THE TREATMENT OF RATTLESNAKE BITE
BY PERMANGANATE OF POTASSIUM,
BASED ON NINE SUCCESSFUL CASES.

By AMOS W. BARBER, M.D.,1 Cheyenne.

Poisoned wounds, inflicted by the fangs of the rattlesnake, are happily more
rare each year, since, as the country is becoming more populated, the
crotalus is rapidly being exterminated. Yet, considering the recklessness
which characterizes the cow boy in his treatment of this reptile, it is
astonishing that this class of injury is not more common. Thus it is the
invariable custom among the cattlemen to dismount and destroy these
snakes whenever they are seen. This is readily accomplished, since a slight
blow will break the back. This blow is, however, generally delivered by
means of the quirt, a whip not over two and a half feet long, and hence a
weapon which brings the one who wields it in unpleasant proximity to the
fangs of the reptile. A still more dangerous practice, and one which I have
frequently seen, is a method of playing with the rattlesnake for the
delectation of the cow boy at the expense of a "tenderfoot." It is well known
that unless a snake is coiled, or held by the tail or body, or placed at length
in a hole or crevice so narrow that by rendering its length sinuous a certain
amount of support is given, it cannot strike. On this theory a mounted cow
boy first puts a rattler to flight, then pushes his pony in pursuit, stoops from
the saddle, seizes it by the tail, gives a quick upward jerk, and, swinging it
so rapidly around his head that it is impossible for it to strike, sets off in
pursuit of whoever has exhibited most terror at the sight of the reptile.
When within fair distance he hurls the snake at the unfortunate victim, in
the full assurance that even should it strike him it cannot bury its fangs in
his flesh, since it is impossible for it to coil till it reaches the ground. This is
a jest of which I have frequently been the victim, nor have I yet learned to
appreciate it with unalloyed mirth.

The belief that rattlesnakes always give warning before striking is not well
founded. If come upon suddenly, they often strike first, and if disturbed
when in a space so narrow that the coil cannot be formed, they may give no
warning of their presence beyond the penetration of the fangs into the hand
or foot of an intruder. One such case I saw.

It seems to be well established that a snake will not voluntarily crawl over a
hair rope, and in certain parts of the country it is common for campers-out
to surround their beds with such a rope, since the reptiles seek warmth, and
are frequently found under or in the blankets of those sleeping on the
ground.

After an exceptionally large experience with wounds inflicted by the fangs
of the rattlesnake, and an experience which, I am glad to say, has been most
successful in its outcome, I think it my duty to add, from a practical
standpoint, my testimony as to the efficacy of permanganate of potassium in
the treatment of this class of cases. This drug was first introduced by
Lacerda, of Brazil, and, if more generally used, would, I believe, render
comparatively innocuous a class of injury which now usually terminates in
death.

I make this statement as to the fatality of crotalus poison advisedly. I know
the belief is very common that the poison of a rattlesnake is readily
combated by full doses of whisky. This is fallacious. I have taken the pains
to investigate a number of instances of cure resulting from the employment
of free stimulation. In each case the fangs did not penetrate deeply into the
tissues, but either scratched over the surface or tore through, making a
wound of entrance and exit, so that the poison, or at least the major part of
it, was not injected into the tissues of the person struck. The effect is very
much the same as when an inexperienced practitioner picks up a fold of
skin for the purpose of making a hypodermic injection, and plunges his
needle entirely through, forcing the medicament wide of his patient.

Nearly all, if not all, of the cases treated by stimulation alone have,
according to my experience, perished if they have received a full dose of
virus from a vigorous snake. One of these cases lived for upward of a
month. He then perished of what might be considered a chronic pyæmia,
the symptoms being those of blood poisoning, accompanied by multiple

abscesses. Another case, not occurring in my own practice, died at the end
of four days apparently of cardiac failure. Active delirium persisted all
through this case. Two other cases treated by stimulants also died with
symptoms of more or less acute blood poisoning.

The feeling is almost universal among the people of Wyoming that a fair
strike from a rattlesnake is certain death, and that the free use of stimulants
simply postpones the end. I do not for a moment deny that a strong, lusty
man may be struck fairly by a rattlesnake and if the wound is at once
opened and cauterized, and the heart judiciously supported, he may yet
recover; still the fact remains that the great majority of these cases perish at
a longer or shorter interval following the infliction of the wound. Hence any
treatment that will save even the majority of such cases is a distinct gain,
and one which has saved every one of nine cases to which it has been
applied needs no further commendation.

The first case of rattlesnake wound to which I was called occurred in 1885.
A cow boy was bitten on the foot, the fang penetrating through the boot. He
was brought forty miles to Fort Fetterman, where I was then stationed. I
saw him about twenty-four hours after he was struck. There was an
enormous swelling, extending up to the knee. The whole limb was bronzed
in appearance. There was no special discoloration about the wound; in fact,
the swelling disguised this to such an extent that it was impossible to
determine exactly where the fangs had entered. The pulse was scarcely
perceptible at the wrist; the heart was beating with excessive rapidity. The
patient was suffering great pain. His mind was clear, but he was oppressed
with a dreadful anxiety. Up to the time I saw him he had received absolutely
no treatment, excepting the application of a cactus poultice to the leg, since
there was no whisky at the ranch where he was wounded. I at once made
free incisions, five or six in number, from one to two inches in depth, and
about three inches in length. These cuts gave him very little pain, nor was
there much bleeding, though there was an enormous amount of serous
oozing. Into these wounds was poured a fifteen per cent. solution of
permanganate of potassium, and fully half an hour was devoted to kneading
this drug into the tissues. In addition I made many hypodermic injections
into all portions of the swollen tissue, but particularly about the wound.
Since there was no very distinct line of demarkation between the swollen

and healthy tissue, I did not, as in other cases, endeavor to prevent the
extension of the cellular involvement by a complete circle of hypodermic
injections. I employed, in all, about forty grains of the permanganate. In
addition to the local treatment I pushed stimulation, employing carbonate of
ammonium and whisky. By means of diuretics and laxatives the kidneys
and bowels were encouraged to eliminate as much of the poison as possible.

The patient went on to uninterrupted recovery. The wound healed with very
little sloughing. The patient returned to his work in about a month. The cure
of this case was regarded by the cow boys as most exceptional, since, in
their experience, similar cases, even though very freely stimulated, had not
recovered.

Some time later I was called to see a girl, aged 14, who was struck by a
rattlesnake, fifty-six miles from Fort Fetterman. There was some trouble
about procuring relays, and I was compelled to ride the same horse all the
way out. This took a little short of five hours. This, together with the time
consumed in sending me word, caused an interval of about twenty hours
between the infliction of the injury and the time I saw the patient. I found
the fangs had entered on either side of the distal joint of the middle
metacarpal bone. The arm was enormously swollen, almost to the axilla,
and exhibited a bronzed discoloration; this was especially marked about the
wound and along the course of the lymphatics. The swollen area was boggy
to the touch, and exhibited a distinct line of demarkation between the
healthy and diseased tissues, excepting along the course of the brachial
vessels, where the indurated discolored area extended as a broad band into
the axilliary lymphatics, which were distinctly swollen. The patient was
delirious, was harrassed by terror, complained bitterly of pain, and had an
exceedingly feeble, rapid heart action. There was marked dyspnœa, and all
the signs of impending dissolution. I at once made free multiple incisions
into all parts of the inflamed tissue, carrying two of my cuts through the
wounds made by the fangs of the snake. In the arm these incisions were
several inches long and from one to two inches deep. As in the former case,
the bleeding was slight, but there was a free exudation of serum. Into these
wounds a fifteen per cent. permanganate of potassium solution was poured,
and as much as possible was kneaded into the tissues. In addition multiple
hypodermic injections were made, these being carried particularly into the

bitten region, and circularly around the arm just at the border of the line of
demarkation, thus endeavoring to limit by a complete circle of the antiseptic
solution the further extension of the inflammatory process. In the region of
the brachial vessels I hesitated to make my injections as thoroughly as in
the rest of the circumference of the arm, fearing lest the permanganate of
potassium might injure important vessels or nerves.

This treatment caused very little pain, but immediately after the
constitutional symptoms became distinctly aggravated. I stimulated freely,
and at once made preparations to take the patient to the Fort Fetterman
hospital. She was transported over the fifty-six miles, I riding the same
horse back again, and arriving at Fort Fetterman the same evening.

The after treatment of this case was comparatively simple. She was
stimulated freely as long as cardiac weakness was manifested. As in the
former case, diuretics and laxatives were employed. The arm was wrapped
in cloth soaked in a weak permanganate solution, was placed in a splint, and
was loosely bandaged. There was some sloughing, but this was treated on
general surgical principles. The patient recovered the entire use of her arm,
and was turned out cured in about six weeks.

The third case I saw about fourteen hours after he was struck. The patient
was a healthy blacksmith, about 30 years of age. The wound was at about
the middle of the forearm, the fangs entering toward the ulnar side. When I
saw the patient he exhibited comparatively trifling symptoms. His heart
action was rapid, and he was suffering from the typical despondency and
terror, but I could not note the profound systemic depression characteristic
of the great majority of cases. Surrounding the wound and extending up the
forearm for several inches there was a boggy swelling, exhibiting a sharp
line of demarkation. It was bronzed in color, and was apparently spreading.
I at once applied the intermittent ligature just above the elbow, and injected
the permanganate of potassium solution freely all through the involved
tissues, particularly in the region of the bite and about the periphery of the
swelling, surrounding the latter by a complete ring of injections.

The general treatment of this patient was continued on the same general line
as described in the former cases, stimulants being employed moderately. He
recovered without any bad symptoms. There was no sloughing; the swelling

disappeared without any necrosis of tissue. He is still pursuing his trade in
Cheyenne, and suffers from absolutely no disability.

I saw but one case shortly after the wound was inflicted. This patient was a
healthy young man, who was struck about the middle of the dorsal surface
of the hand, the fangs entering on each side of a metacarpal bone, and the
poison lodging apparently in the palm of the hand. The patient, when seen,
exhibited the characteristic terror and depression, weak, rapid heart action,
and agonizing local pain. I made two small incisions in the region of the
wound upon the dorsum of the hand, and injected permanganate of
potassium freely. This patient ultimately recovered, but only after sloughing
and prolonged suppuration. I believe that had I incised freely and at once
from the palmar surface, I would have been spared this unpleasant
complication.

I have had in all nine cases, and without a single death. The others are in
their general features and in the treatment employed quite similar to those
given.

The symptoms resulting from snake bite poison are strikingly like those
dependent upon the violent septic poison seen in pre-antiseptic times. There
is often the same prodromal chill, the high elevation of temperature, the
profound effect on the circulation, and the rapid cellular involvement. The
tissue disturbance following snake poisoning differs from ordinary
cellulitis, however, in the following particulars: The color is bronze, not red;
the involved area is boggy, not brawny; and the extension of the process is
exceedingly rapid.

The treatment applicable to one condition seems to be equally successful
when applied to the other. In cellulitis, free incisions, antiseptic lotions, and
active stimulation are the three means upon which the surgeon mainly
depends, and in combating the local and general symptoms excited by
snake bite poisoning, the same treatment has given me the successful results
detailed above. Whether or not permanganate of potassium is more active
than other antiseptics in snake bite poisoning I am not prepared to state, but
the high authority of S. Weir Mitchell, together with my own experience,
does not incline me to substitute any other drug at present.

I would formulate the treatment for poison of the rattlesnake as follows:

1. Free incisions to the bottom of the wound and immediate cauterization;
or, if this is not practicable, sucking of the wound.

2. The immediate application of an intermittent tourniquet, that is, one
which is relaxed for a moment at a time, so that the poison may gain
admission into the circulation in small doses.

3. The free administration of alcohol or carbonate of ammonium.

This might be termed the urgency treatment of snake bite poisoning. The
curative treatment requires—

4. Free incisions into all portions of the inflamed tissues, and the thorough
kneading into these incisions of a fifteen per cent. solution of permanganate
of potassium.

5. Multiple injections of the same solution into all the inflamed regions, but
particularly into the region of the wound.

6. The complete surrounding of all the involved tissues, by permanganate of
potassium injections placed from half an inch to an inch apart, the needle
being driven into the healthy tissue just beyond the line of demarkation, and
its point being carried to the deepest part of the border of the indurated area.

7. The permanganate of potassium solution should be used freely in fifteen
per cent. solution. I have used one and a half drachms of the pure drug
diluted, and would not hesitate to use four times that quantity were it
necessary, since it seems to exert no deleterious effect, either locally or
generally.

8. The involved area should be dressed by means of lint saturated with
fifteen per cent. permanganate of potassium solution. Stimulants should be
given according to the indications—i.e., the condition of the pulse.
Laxatives, diuretics, and diaphoretics should be administered to aid in the
elimination of the poison. The diet should be as nutritious as the stomach
can digest.—The Therapeutic Gazette.

[1]
Governor of Wyoming.

CHINESE COMPETITIVE EXAMINATIONS.
Wuchang, on the Yangtsze opposite Hankow, is the capital of the two
provinces Hupeh and Hunan. Here, every third year, the examination for
competitors from both provinces is held, and a correspondent of the North
China Herald, of Shanghai, describes the scene at the examination at the
beginning of September last. The streets, he says, are thronged with long-
robed, large-spectacled gentlemen, who inform the world at large by every
fold of drapery, every swagger of gait, every curve of nail, that they are the
aristocracy of the most ancient empire of the world. Wuchang had from
12,000 to 15,000 bachelors of arts within its walls, who came from the far
borders of the province for the examination for the provincial degree. About
one-half per cent. will be successful; thousands of them know they have not
the shadow of a chance, but literary etiquette binds them to appear. In the
wake of these Confucian scholars come a rout of traders, painters, scroll
sellers, teapot venders, candle merchants, spectacle mongers, etc.; servants
and friends swell the number, so that the examination makes a difference of
some 40,000 or 50,000 to the resident population. In the great examination
hall, which is composed of a series of pens shut off from each other in little
rows of 20 or 30, and the view of which is suggestive of a huge cattle
market, there is accommodation for over 10,000 candidates. The observance
of rules of academic propriety is very strict. A candidate may be excluded,
not only for incompetence, but for writing his name in the wrong place, for
tearing or blotting his examination paper, etc. After the examination of each
batch a list of those allowed to compete for honors is published, and the
essay forms for each district are prepared with proper names and
particulars. The ancestors of the candidate for three generations must be
recorded, they must be free from taint of yamen service, prostitution, the
barber's trade and the theater, or the candidate would not have obtained his
first degree. With the forms 300 cash (about 1s.) are presented to each
candidate for food during the ordeal. The lists being thus prepared, on the
sixth day of the eighth moon (Tuesday, the 8th of September, in 1891), the
city takes a holiday to witness the ceremony of "entering the curtain," i.e.,
opening the examination hall. For days coolies have been pumping water

into great tanks, droves of pigs have been driven into the inclosure, doctors,
tailors, cooks, coffins, printers, etc., have been massed within the hall for
possible needs. The imperial commissioners are escorted by the
examination officials to the place. A dozen district magistrates have been
appointed to superintend within the walls, and as many more outside, two
prefects have office inside, and the governor of the province has also to be
locked up during the eight days of examination. The whole company is first
entertained to breakfast at the yamen, and then the procession forms; the
ordinary umbrellas, lictors, gongs, feathers, and ragamuffins are there in
force; the examiners and the highest officers are carried in open chairs
draped in scarlet and covered with tiger skins. The dead silence that falls on
the crowd betokens the approach of the governor, who brings up the rear.
Then the bustle of the actual examination begins. The hall is a miniature
city. Practically martial law is proclaimed. In the central tower is a sword,
and misdemeanor within the limits is punished with instant death. The
mandarins take up their quarters in their respective lodges, the whole army
of writers whose duty it is to copy out the essays of the candidates, to
prevent collusion, take their places. Altogether there must be over 20,000
people shut in. Cases have been known in which a hopeful candidate was
crushed to death in the crowd at the gate. Each candidate is first identified,
and he is assigned a certain number which corresponds to a cell a few feet
square, containing one board for a seat and one for a desk. Meanwhile the
printers in the building are hard at work printing the essay texts. Each row
of cells has two attendants for cooking, etc., assigned to it, the candidates
take their seats, the rows are locked from the outside, the themes are handed
out, the contest has begun. The examination is divided into three bouts of
about 36 hours, two nights and a day, each, with intervals of a day. The first
is the production of three essays on the four assigned books; the second of
five essays on the five classics; the third of five essays on miscellaneous
subjects. The strain, as may be imagined, is very great, and several victims
die in the hall. The literary ambition which leads old men of 60 and 70 to
enter not unfrequently destroys them. Should any fatal case occur, the coffin
may on no account be carried out through the gates; it must be lifted over or
sometimes through a breach in the wall. Death must not pollute the great
entrance. At the end of the third trial, the first batch of those who have
completed their essays is honored with the firing of guns, the bows of the
officials, and the ministry of a band of music. Three weeks of anxious

waiting will ensue before a huge crowd will assemble to see the list
published. Then the successful candidates are the pride of their country
side, and well do the survivors of such an ordeal deserve their credit. The
case of those who are in the last selection and are left degreeless, for the
stern reason that some must be crowded out, is the hardest of all.

HIGH SPEED ENGINE AND DYNAMO.
We illustrate a high speed engine and dynamo constructed by Easton &
Anderson, London. This plant was used at the Royal Agricultural Society's
show at Doncaster in testing the machinery in the dairy, and constituted a
distinct innovation, as well as an improvement, on the appliances
previously employed for the purpose. The separator, or whatever might be
the machine under trial, was driven by an electric motor fed by a current
from the dynamo we illustrate. A record was made of the volts and amperes
used, and from this the power expended was deduced, the motor having
been previously carefully calibrated by means of a brake. So delicate was
the test that the observers could detect the presence of a warm bearing in
the separator from the change in the readings of the ammeter.

IMPROVED HIGH SPEED ENGINE AND DYNAMO.

The engine is carefully balanced to enable it to run at the very high speed of
500 revolutions per minute. The cranks are opposite each other, and the
moving parts connected with the two pistons are of the same weight. The
result is complete absence of vibration, and exceedingly quiet running. Very
liberal lubricating arrangements are fitted to provide for long runs, while
uniformity of speed is provided for by a Pickering governor. The high
pressure cylinder is 4 in. in diameter, and the low pressure cylinder is 7 in.
in diameter. The stroke in each case is 4 in.

Fig. 2.

The dynamo is designed to feed sixty lamps of 16 candle power each, the
current being 60 amperes at 50 volts. The armature is of the drum type. The
peculiar feature of it is that grooves are planed in the laminated core from
end to end, and in these grooves the conductors, which are of ribbon
section, are laid. Slips of insulating material are laid between the coils and
the dovetailed mouths of the grooves are closed with bone or vulcanized
fiber, or other dielectric. At each end of the core there are fitted non-
magnetic covers. At the commutator end the cover is like a truncated cone,
and incloses the connections completely. One end of the cone is supported

on the end plate of the armature and the other end on a ring on the
commutator. A bell-shaped cover incloses the conductors at the other end of
the armature. The result is that the conductors are completely incased,
protected from all mechanical injury, and positively driven. They can
neither be displaced nor abraded. The conductors on the magnet coils are
likewise carefully protected from harm by metal coverings. These dynamos
are made in sixteen sizes, of which seven sizes are designed to feed more
than 100 lamps, the largest serving for 600 lamps.

Fig. 3.

Messrs. Easton & Anderson are showing machinery of this type at the
Crystal Palace Electrical Exhibition now open in London.—Engineering.

CHLORINE GAS AND SODA BY THE
ELECTROLYTIC PROCESS.
The decomposition of a solution of common salt, and its conversion into
chlorine gas and caustic soda solution by means of an electric current, has
long been a study with electro-chemists. Experimentally it has often been
effected, but so far as we are aware, the success of this method of
production has never until now been demonstrated on a sound commercial
basis. The solution of this important industrial problem is due to Mr. James
Greenwood, who has been engaged in the development of electro-chemical
processes for many years. The outcome of this is that Mr. Greenwood has
now perfected an electrolytic process for the direct production of caustic
soda and chlorine, as well as other chemical products, the operation of
which we recently inspected at Phœnix Wharf, Battersea, London. One of
the special features in connection with Mr. Greenwood's new departure is
the novel and ingenious method by which the electrolyzed products are
separated, and their recombination rendered impossible. This object is
attained by the use of a specially constructed diaphragm which is composed
of a series of V-shaped glass troughs, fitted in a frame within each other
with a small space between them, which is lightly packed with asbestos
fiber. Another important feature of the apparatus is a compound anode
which consists of carbon plates, with a metal core to increase the
conductivity. The anode is treated in a special manner so as to render it non-
porous and impervious to attack by the nascent chlorine evolved on its
surface. No anode appears ever to have been invented that is at all suitable
for working on a large scale, and the successful introduction of this
compound anode, therefore, constitutes a marked advance in the apparatus
used in electrolytic methods of production.

The apparatus by which the new process is being successfully demonstrated
on a working scale has been put up by the Caustic Soda and Chlorine
Syndicate, London, and has been in operation for several months past. The
installation consists of five large electrolytic vessels, each of which is fitted
up with five anodes and six cathodes arranged alternately. The anodes and

cathodes are separated by the special diaphragms, and each vessel is thus
divided into ten anode or chlorine sections and ten cathode or caustic soda
sections. The anodes and cathodes in each vessel are connected up in
parallel similar to an ordinary storage battery, but the five electrolytic
vessels are connected up in series. The current is produced by an Elwell-
Parker dynamo, and the electromotive force required to overcome the
resistance of each vessel is about 4.4 volts, with a current density of 10
amperes per square foot of electrode surface. The anode sections,
numbering fifty altogether, are connected by means of tubes, the inlet being
at the bottom and the outlet at the top of each section. The whole of the
cathode sections are connected in the same manner. In commencing
operations, the electrolytic vessels are charged with a solution of common
salt, through which a current of electricity is then passed, thus decomposing
or splitting up the salt into its elements, chlorine and sodium. In the
separation of the sodium, however, a secondary action takes place, which
converts it into caustic soda. An automatic circulation of the solutions is
maintained by placing the charging tanks at a slight elevation, and the
vessels themselves on platforms arranged in steps. The solutions are
pumped back from the lowest vessel to their respective charging tanks, the
salt solution to be further decomposed and the caustic soda solution to be
further concentrated. The chlorine gas evolved in the fifty anode sections is
conveyed by means of main and branch tubes into several absorbers, in
which milk of lime, kept in a state of agitation, takes up the chlorine, thus
making it into bleaching or chlorate liquor as may be required. If the
chlorine is required to be made into bleaching powder, then it is conveyed
into leaden chambers and treated with lime in the usual manner. The caustic
soda formed in the fifty cathode sections is more or less concentrated
according to the particular purpose for which it may be required. If,
however, the caustic soda is required in solid form, and practically free
from salt, then the caustic alkaline liquor is transferred from the electrolytic
vessels to evaporating pans, where it is concentrated to the required strength
by evaporation and at the same time the salt remaining in the solution is
eliminated by precipitation.

Such is the method of manufacturing caustic soda and chlorine by this
process, which will doubtless have a most important bearing upon many
trades and manufactures, more particularly upon the paper, soap, and

bleaching industries. But the invention does not stop where we have left it,
for it is stated that the process can be applied to the production of sodium
amalgam and chlorine for extracting gold and other metals from their ores.
It can also be utilized in the production of caustic and chlorate of potash
and other chemicals, which can be manufactured in a state of the greatest
purity. A very important consideration is that of cost, for upon this depends
commercial success. It is therefore satisfactory to learn that the cost of
production has been determined by the most careful electrical and analytical
tests, which demonstrate an economy of over 50 per cent. as compared with
present methods. Highly favorable reports on the process have been made
by Dr. G. Gore, F.R.S., the eminent authority on electro-chemical processes,
by Mr. W.H. Preece, F.R.S., and by Messrs. Cross & Bevan, consulting
chemists. Dr. Gore states that the chemical and electrical principles upon
which this process is based are thoroughly sound, and that the process is of
a scientifically practical character. Should, however, the economy of
production even fall somewhat below the anticipations of those who have
examined into the process very carefully, it can hardly fail to prove as
successful commercially as it has scientifically.

COMPLETION OF THE MERSEY TUNNEL
RAILWAY.
On the 11th of January (says the Liverpool Daily Post) will be opened for
traffic the new station of the Mersey Tunnel Railway at the bottom of Bold
Street. With the completion of the station at Bold Street the scheme may be
said to have been brought successfully to a conclusion. It was not until
1879, after the expenditure of 125,000l. upon trial borings, that the
promoters ventured to appeal to the public for support, and that a company,
of which the Right Hon. H. Cecil Raikes, M.P., was chairman, was formed
for carrying the project of the Mersey Railway into effect. The experience
of the engineers in the construction of the tunnel is not a little curious. It
was proved by the borings that the position in which the tunnel was
proposed to be bored was not only the most important from the point of
view of public convenience, and therefore of commercial advantage, but
was from the point of view of engineering difficulty decidedly the most
preferable. In this position the cuttings passed through the sandstone rock,
although on the Liverpool side the shafts were sunk through a considerable
depth through "made" ground, the whole of Mann Island and the Goree
being composed of earth and gravel tipped on the old bank of the river.
Indeed the miners passed through the cellars of old houses and unearthed
old water pipes; excavated through a depth of tipped rubbish on which these
houses had evidently been built; and then came upon the former strand of
the river, beneath which was the blue silt usually found; then a stratum of
bowlder clay; and finally the red sandstone rock. Once begun, the works
were pushed forward night and day, Sundays excepted, until January, 1884,
when the last few feet of rock were cleared away by the boring machine,
and the mayors of Liverpool and Birkenhead met in fraternal greeting
beneath the river. The operations gave employment to 3,000 men working
three shifts of eight hours each, but were greatly accelerated by the use of
Colonel Beaumont's boring machine, on which disks of chilled iron are set
in a strong iron bar made to revolve by means of compressed air. This
machine scooped out a tunnel 7 feet in diameter; and by successive
improvements Colonel Beaumont attained a speed of 150 feet per week,

leaving the old method of blasting far behind. As the machine moved
forward the rock behind was broken out to the size of the main tunnel and
bricked in in short lengths. One remarkable circumstance in connection
with the work is that the boring from the Birkenhead side and the boring
from Liverpool were found, when they were completed and joined, to be
out of line by only 1 inch.

This excellent result was attained by careful calculations and experiments
with perpendicular wires kept in position by weights, which, to avoid
oscillation, were suspended in buckets of water. From shaft to shaft the
tunnel is 1,770 yards in length and 26 feet in diameter; but for a length of
400 feet at the James Street and Hamilton Square stations the arch is
enlarged to 50½ feet. The tunnel is lined with from six to eight rings of
solid brickwork embedded in cement, the two inner rings being blue
Staffordshire or Burnley bricks. For the purpose of ventilation a smaller
tunnel, 7 feet in diameter, was bored parallel with the main tunnel, with
which it is connected in eight places by cross cuts, provided with suitable
doors. Both at Liverpool and at Birkenhead there are two guibal fans, one
40 feet and the other 30 feet in diameter. The smaller, which throw each
180,000 cubic feet of air per minute, ventilate the continuations of the
tunnel under Liverpool and Birkenhead respectively, and the larger tunnel
under the river. The fans remove together 600,000 cubic feet of air per
minute, and by this combined operation the entire air in the tunnel is
changed once in every seven minutes. By the use of regulating shutters the
air passes in a continuous current and the fans are noiseless. The telegraph
and telephone wires pass through the tunnel, thus avoiding the long detour
by Runcorn. Probably, as a feat of engineering, the construction of the new
station at Bold Street is not inferior to any part of the scheme advanced.
Under very singular and perplexing difficulties it could only be proceeded
with in its first stages from midnight until six o'clock the following
morning, it being of course essential that the traffic at the Central Station
should not be interfered with. During these hours, night after night, trenches
were cut at intervals of 10 feet across the roadway connecting the arrival
platforms at the station, and into these were placed strong balks of timber,
across which planks were laid as a temporary roadway. Beneath these
planks, which were taken up and put down as required, the rock was
excavated to a depth of 9 feet, and the balks supported upon stout props.

Then from the driftway or rough boring beneath well holes were bored to
the upper excavation, and through them the strong upright iron pillars
designed to support the roof of the new tunnel station were passed, bedded
and securely fixed in position. No sooner were they in situ than the most
troublesome part of the task was entered upon, for the balks had then to be
removed in order to allow to be placed in position the girders running the
length of the new station, and resting on the tops of the upright pillars.
From these longitudinal girders cross girders of great strength were placed,
and between these were built brick arches, packed above with concrete.
This formed the roof of the new station. One portion of it passed under the
rails in the station above, and had to be constructed without stoppage of the
traffic. The rails had consequently to be supported on a temporary steel
bridge of ingenious design, constructed by Mr. C.A. Rowlendson, the
resident engineer and manager of the company, under whose personal
supervision, as representing Sir Douglas Fox, the work has been carried out.
With this device the men were enabled to go on in safety although
locomotives were passing immediately above their heads. After the
completion of the roof the station below was excavated by what is
technically called "plug and feather" work—that is to say, by drilling holes
into which powerful wedges are driven to split the rock.

A STEAM STREET RAILWAY MOTOR.

While in Paris, President Yerkes, of the North Chicago Street Railway
Company, purchased a noiseless steam motor, the results in experimenting
with which will be watched with great interest. The accompanying
engraving, for which we are indebted to the Street Railway Review, gives a
very accurate idea of the general external appearance. The car is all steel
throughout, except windows, doors and ceiling. It is 12 ft. long, 8 ft. wide,
and 9 ft. high, and weighs about seven tons. The engines, which have 25
horse power and are of the double cylinder pattern, are below the floor and
connected directly to the wheels. The wheels are four in number and 31 in.
in diameter. The internal appearance and general arrangement of machinery,
etc., is about that of the ordinary steam dummy. It will run in either
direction, and the exhaust steam is run through a series of mufflers which
suppress the sound, condense the steam and return the water to the boiler,
which occupies the center of the car. The motor was built in Ghent,

Belgium, and cost about $5,000, custom house duties amounting to about
$2,000 more.—The Railway Review.

TWENTY-FOUR KNOT STEAMERS.
Probably the most important form of steam machinery is the marine engine,
not only because of the conditions under which it works, but because of the
great power it is called upon to exert. Naturally its most interesting
application is to Atlantic steaming. The success of the four great liners,
Teutonic, Majestic, City of Paris and City of New York, has stimulated
demand, and the Cunard Company has resolved to add to its fleet, and place
two ships on the Atlantic which will outstrip the racers we have named.

The visitor to the late Naval Exhibition interested in shipping will have
remarked at each of the several exhibits of the great firms a model of a
projected steamer, intended to reduce the present record of the six days'
voyage across the Atlantic—the ne plus ultra at this time of steam
navigation. To secure this present result a continuous steaming for the six
days at 20 knot speed is requisite, not to mention an extra day or two at
each end of the voyage. The City of Paris and the City of New York, Furst
Bismarck, Teutonic and Majestic are capable of this, with the Umbria and
Etruria close behind at 18 to 19 knots. Only ten years ago the average
passage, reckoned in the same way as from land to land—or Queenstown to
Sandy Hook—was seven days with a speed of 17 knots, the performance of
such vessels as the Arizona and Alaska. Twenty years ago the length of the
voyage was estimated as seven and a half to eight days at a speed of 16
knots, the performance of such vessels as the Germanic and Britannic of the
White Star fleet of 5,000 tons and 5,000 horse power. Thirty years ago the
paddle steamer was not yet driven off the ocean, and we find the Scotia
crossing in between eight and nine days, at a speed of 13 or 14 knots. In
1858 ten and a half to twelve and a half days was allowed for the passage
between Liverpool and New York. So as we recede we finally arrive at the
pioneer vessels, the Sirius and Great Western, crossing in fourteen to
eighteen days at a speed of 6 to 8 knots. For these historical details an
interesting paper may be consulted, "De Toenemende Grootte der Zee-
Stoombooten," 1888, by Professor A. Huet, of the Delft Polytechnic School.

Each of the last two or three decades has thus succeeded, always, however,
with increasing difficulty, in knocking off a day from the duration of the
voyage. But although the present six-day 20 knot boats are of extreme size
and power, and date only from the last two or three years, still the world of
travelers declares itself unsatisfied. Already we hear that another day must
be struck off, and that five-day steamers have become a necessity of
modern requirements, keeping up a continuous ocean speed of 23½ knots to
24 knots. Shipbuilders and engineers are ashamed to mention the word
impossible; and designers are already at work, as we saw in the Naval
Exhibition, but only so far in the model stage; as the absence of any of the
well known distinguishing blazons of the foremost lines was sufficient to
show that no order had been placed for the construction of a real vessel. It
will take a very short time to examine the task of the naval architect
required to secure these onerous and magnificent conditions, five days'
continuous ocean steaming at a speed of 24 knots.

The most practical, theory-despising among them must for the nonce
become a theorist, and argue from the known to the unknown; and, first, the
practical man will turn—secretly perhaps, but wisely—to the invaluable
experiments and laws laid down so clearly by the late Mr. Froude. Although
primarily designed to assist the Admiralty in arguing from the resistance of
a model to that of the full size vessel, the practical man need not thereby
despise Froude's laws, as he is able to choose his mode: to any scale he
likes, and he can take his experiments ready made by practice on a large
scale, as Newton took the phenomena of astronomy for the illustration of
the mechanical laws. Suppose then he takes the City of Paris as his model,
560 ft. by 63 ft., in round numbers 10,000 tons displacement, and 20,000
horse power, for a speed of 20 knots, with a coal capacity of 2,000 tons,
sufficient, with contingencies, for a voyage of six to eight days. Or we may
take a later 20 knot vessel, the Furst Bismarck, 500 ft. by 50ft., 8,000 tons,
and 16,000 horse power, speed 20 knots, and coal capacity 2,700 tons, to
allow for the entire length of voyage to Germany.

In Froude's method of comparison the laws of mechanical similitude are
preserved if we make the displacements of the model and of its copy in the
ratio of the sixth power of the speeds designed, or the length as the square
of the speed. Our new 24 knot vessel, taking the City of Paris as a model,

would therefore have 10,000 (24 ÷ 20)6 = 29,860, say 30,000 tons
displacement, and would be 800 ft. × 90 ft. in dimensions. The horse power
would have to be as the seventh power of the speed, and our vessel would
therefore have 20,000 (24 ÷ 20)7, or say 72,000 horse power. Further
applications of Froude's laws of similitude will show that the steam
pressure and piston speed would have to be raised 20 per cent., while the
revolutions were discounted 20 per cent., supposing the engines and
propellers to be increased in size to scale. To provide the requisite
enormous boiler power, all geometrical scale would disappear; but it would
carry us too far at present to follow up this interesting comparison.

Our naval architect is not likely at present to proceed further with this
monstrous design, exceeding even the Great Eastern in size, if only because
no dock is in existence capable of receiving such a ship. He has however
learned something of value, namely, that this vessel, if the proper similitude
is carried out, is capable of keeping up a speed of 24 knots for five days
with ample coal supply, provided the boilers are not found to occupy all the
available space. For it is an immediate consequence of Froude's laws that in
similar vessels run at corresponding speeds over the same voyage, the coal
capacity is proportionately the same, or that a ton of coal will carry the
same number of tons of displacement over the same distance. Thus our
enlarged City of Paris would require to carry about 4,000 tons of coal,
burning 800 tons a day.

With the Britannic and Germanic as models of 5,000 tons and 5,000 horse
power at 16 knot speed, the 24 knot vessel would require to be of 57,000
tons and 85,000 horse power, to carry sufficient coal for the voyage of
3,000 miles. These enormous vessels being out of the question, the designer
must reduce the size. But now the City of Paris will no longer serve as a
model, he must look elsewhere for a vessel of high speed, and smaller scale,
and naturally he picks out a torpedo boat at the other end of the scale. A
speed of 24 knots—and it is claimed even of 25, 26, and 27 knots—has
been attained on the mile by a torpedo boat. But such a performance is
useless for our mode of comparison, as sufficient fuel at this high speed for
ten or twelve hours only at most can be carried—a voyage of, say, 500
miles; while our steamer is required to carry coal for 3,000 miles. The
Russian torpedo boat Wiborg, for instance, is designed to carry coal for

1,200 miles at 10 knot speed; but at 20 knots this fuel would last only
twenty-seven hours, carrying the vessel 540 miles. It will now be found that
with this limited coal capacity the speed of the ordinary torpedo boat must
be reduced considerably below 10 knots for it to be able to cross the
Atlantic, 3,000 miles under steam. So that, even at a possible speed of 10
knots for the voyage, the full sized 24 knot five-day vessel, of which the
best torpedo boat is the model, must have (2.4)6, say 200 times the tonnage,
and (2.4)7, or 460 times the horse power. The enlarged Wiborg would thus
not differ much from the enlarged City of Paris. A better model to select
would be one of the recent dispatch boats, commerce destroyers, or torpedo
catchers, recently designed by Mr. W.H. White, for our navy—the Intrepid
or Endymion, for instance. The Intrepid is 300 ft. by 44 ft., 3,600 tons, and
9,000 horse power for 20 knot speed, with 800 hours' coal capacity for
8,000 miles at 10 knot speed; which will reduce to 3,000 miles at 16 knots,
and 2,000 miles at 20 knots.

The Endymion is 360 ft. by 60 ft., with coal capacity for 2,800 miles at 18
knot speed, or for about 144 hours or six days. The enlarged Endymion for
the same voyage of 2,800 miles in five days, or at 21½ knot speed, would
be 44 per cent larger and broader, that is 520 ft. by 86 ft., and of threefold
tonnage, and three and a half times, or about 30,000 horse power—about
the dimensions of the Furst Bismarck, but much more powerfully engined.
This agrees fairly with the estimate in the SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN of
19th Sept, 1891., where it is stated that twenty-two boilers, at a working
pressure of 180 lb. on the square inch, would be required, allowing 1½ lb.
of coal per horse power hour.

The Intrepid, enlarged to a 24 knot boat, for the same length of voyage of
3,000 miles, would be 650 ft. by 100 ft., 40,000 tons, and about 45,000
horse power. So now we are nearing the Messrs. Thomson design in the
Naval Exhibition of the five-day steamer, 23½ knot speed, 630 ft. by 73 ft.,
and 30,000 to 40,000 horse power.

No one doubts the ability of our shipbuilding yards to turn out these
monsters; and on the measured mile, and for a good long distance, we shall
certainly see the contract speeds attained and some excelled. But the whole
difficulty turns on the question of the coal capacity, and whether it is

sufficient to last for even five days or for 3,000 miles. Every effort then
must be made to shorten the length of the voyage from port to port; and we
may yet see Galway and Halifax, only 2,200 miles apart, once more
mentioned as the starting points of the voyage as of old, in the earliest days
of steam navigation. In those days the question of fuel supply was a
difficulty, even at the then slow speeds, in consequence of the wasteful
character of the engines, burning from 7 lb. of coal and upward per horse
power hour. Dr. Lardner's calculations, based upon the average performance
of those days, justified him in saying that steam navigation could not pay—
as was really the case until the introduction of the compound engine.

It is recorded in Admiral Preble's "Origin and Development of Steam
Navigation," Philadelphia, 1883, page 160, that the Sirius, 700 tons and 320
horse power, on her return voyage had to burn up all that old be spared on
board, and took seventeen days to reach Falmouth. An interesting old book
to consult now is Atherton's "Tables of Steamship Capacity," 1854, based as
they are upon the performance of the marine engine of the day. Atherton
calculates that a 10,000 ton vessel could at 20 knots carry only 204 tons of
cargo 1,676 miles, while a 5,000 ton vessel at 18 knots on a voyage of
3,000 miles could carry no cargo at all. Also that the cost per ton of cargo at
16 knots would be twenty times the cost at eight knots, implying a coal
consumption reaching to 12 lb. per horse power hour. It is quite possible
that some invention is still latent which will enable us to go considerably
below the present average consumption of 2 lb. to 1½ lb. per horse power
hour; but at present our rate of progress appears asymptotic to a definite
limit.

To conclude, the whole difficulty is one of fuel supply, and it is useless to
employ a fast torpedo boat as our model, except at the speed at which the
torpedo boat can carry her own fuel to cross the Atlantic. If the voyage must
be reduced in time, let it be reduced from six days to four, by running
between Galway and Halifax, a problem not too extravagant in its demands
for modern engineering capabilities. A statement has recently gained a
certain amount of circulation to the effect that the Inman Company was
about to use petroleum as fuel, in order to obtain more steam. We have the
best possible authority for saying there is not the least syllable of truth in
this rumor. It has also been stated that since solid piston valves have been

fitted to the Teutonic in lieu of the original spring ring valves, she has
steamed faster. This rumor is only partially true. Her record, outward
passage, of 5 days 16 hours 31 minutes, was made on her previous voyage.
She has, however, since made her three fastest trips homeward.—The
Engineer.

THE MILITARY ENGINEER AND HIS
WORK.1
By Col. W.R. KING.

It is not an easy matter to present a dry subject in such an attractive form as
to excite a thrilling interest in it, and military science is no exception to this
rule. An ingenious military instructor at one of our universities has
succeeded in pointing out certain analogies between grand tactics and the
festive game of football, which appears to have greatly improved the
football, if we may judge from the recent victories of the blue over the red
and the black and orange, but it is not so clear that the effect of the union
has been very beneficial to military science; and even if such had been the
case, I fear there are no similar analogies that would be useful in enlivening
the subject of military engineering.

From the earliest times of which we have record man has been disposed to
strive with his fellow man, either to maintain his own rights or to possess
himself of some rights or material advantage enjoyed by others. When one
or only a few men encroach on the rights of others in an organized
community, they may be restrained by the legal machinery of the state, such
as courts, police, and prisons, but when a whole community or state rises
against another, the civil law becomes powerless and a state of war ensues.
It is not proposed here to discuss the ethics of this question, nor the
desirability of providing a suitable court of nations for settling all
international difficulties without war. The great advantage of such a system
of avoiding war is admitted by all intelligent people. We notice here a
singular inconsistency in the principles upon which this strife is carried on,
viz.: If it be a single combat, either a friendly contest or a deadly one, the
parties are expected to contest on equal terms as nearly as may be arranged;
but if large numbers are engaged, or in other words, when the contest
becomes war, the rule is reversed and each party is expected to take every
possible advantage of his adversary, even to the extent of stratagem or

deception. In fact, it has passed into a proverb that "all things are fair in
love and war."

Now one of the first things resorted to, in order to gain an advantage over
the enemy, was to bring in material appliances, such as walls, ditches,
catapults, scaling ladders, battering rams, and subsequently the more
modern appliances, such as guns, forts, and torpedoes, all of which are
known as engines of war, and the men who built and operated these engines
were very naturally called engineers. It is this kind of an artificer that
Shakespeare refers to when he playfully suggests that "'tis the sport to have
the engineer hoist with his own petard."

The early military engineer has left ample records and monuments of his
genius. The walls of ancient cities, castles that still crown many hills in both
hemispheres, the great Chinese wall, the historical bridge of Julius Cæsar,
which with charming simplicity he tells us was built because it did not
comport with his dignity to cross the stream in boats, the bridge of boats
across the Hellespont, by Xerxes, are all examples of early military
engineering. The Bible tells us "King Uzziah built towers at the gates of
Jerusalem, and at the turning of the wall, and fortified them." We may note
in passing that the buttresses, battlements, and bartizans with which our
modern architects ornament or disfigure churches, peaceful dwellings, and
public buildings, are copied from the early works of the military engineer.

Coming down to the military engineers of our own country, we find that
one of the first acts of the Continental Congress, after appointing
Washington as commander-in-chief, was to authorize him to employ a
number of engineers. It was not, however, until 1777 that a number of
engineer officers from the French army arrived in this country, and were
appointed in the Continental army. General DuPortail was made Chief
Engineer, and Colonel Kosciusko, the great Polish patriot, was among his
assistants. Other officers of the Continental army were employed on
engineering duty; and under their supervision such works as the forts and
the great chain barrier at West Point were built, and the siege operations
around Boston and Yorktown were carried on.

After the close of the war, in 1794, a Corps of "Artillerists and Engineers"
was organized. This corps was stationed at West Point, and became the

nucleus of the United States Military Academy. In 1802, by operation of the
law reorganizing the army, this corps was divided, as the names would
indicate, into an Artillery Corps and Corps of Engineers. The Corps of
Engineers consisted of one major, two captains, four lieutenants, and ten
cadets. The Artillery Corps was again divided into the Ordnance Corps and
several regiments of artillery, now five in number, while the duties of the
Corps of Engineers were divided between the Engineer Corps and a Corps
of Topographical Engineers, organized at a later date; but on the breaking
out of the late rebellion it was deemed best to unite the two corps, and they
have so remained until the present time. The Corps of Engineers now
consists of 118 officers of various grades, from second lieutenant to
brigadier general, of which last grade there is only one officer, the chief of
the corps, and it requires something more than an average official lifetime
for the aforesaid lieutenant to attain that rank. Hardly one in ten of them
ever reach it. Daniel Webster's remark to the young lawyer, that "there is
always room at the top," will not apply to the Corps of Engineers. The
officers are all graduates of the Military Academy, which institution
continued as a part of the Corps of Engineers until 1866. The vacancies in
the corps are filled by the assignment to it of from two to six graduates each
year, and there is attached to the corps a battalion of four companies of
enlisted men, formerly called Sappers and Miners, but now known as the
Battalion of Engineers.

We now come naturally to the duties of our military engineer, and here I
may remark that these duties are so varied and so numerous that a detailed
recital of them would suggest Goldsmith's "Deserted Village:"

... "And still the wonder grew
That one small head could carry all he ought to know"

[Never lose sight of fact for the sake of rhyme.]

In general terms, his duties consist of:

1. Military surveys and explorations.

2. Boundary surveys.

3. Geodetic and hydrographic survey of the great lakes.

4. Building fortifications—both permanent works and temporary or field
works.

5. Constructing military roads.

6. Pontoniering or building military bridges, both with the regular bridge
trains and with improved materials.

7. The planning and directing of siege operations, either offensive or
defensive; sapping, mining, etc.

8. Providing, testing and planting torpedoes for harbor defense when
operating from shore stations.

9. Staff duty with general officers.

10. Improving rivers and harbors.

11. The building and repairing of lighthouses.

12. Various special duties as commissioner of District of Columbia,
superintendent military academy, commandant engineer school, instructors
at both of these schools, attaches to several foreign legations, for the
collection of military information, etc.

It would, of course, exceed the proper limits of a single lecture to go into
the details of these many duties, but we may take only a passing glance at
most of them, and give more special attention to a few that may involve
some points of interest. Perhaps the most interesting branch of the subject
would be that of permanent fortifications, or what amounts to almost the
same thing in this country, sea coast defenses. And here our trouble begins,
for, while civil engineers have constant experience to guide them, their

roads, bridges, and other structures being in constant use, the military
engineer has only now and then, at long intervals, a war or a siege of
sufficient extent to furnish data upon which he can safely plan or build his
structures. Imagine a civil engineer designing a bridge, road, or a dam to
meet some possible future demand, without having seen such a structure
used for twenty years or more, and you can form some estimate of the
delightful uncertainties that surround the military engineer when called
upon to design a modern fort. The proving ground shows him that radical
improvements are necessary, but actual service conditions are almost
entirely wanting, and such as we have contradict many of the proving
ground theories. Thus we have the records of shot going through 25 inches
of iron or 25 feet of concrete on the proving ground; but such actual service
tests as the bombardment of Fort Sumter, Fort Fisher, and the forts at
Alexandria contradict this entirely, and indicate that, except for the moral
effect, our old forts, with modern guns in them and some additional
strengthening at their weaker points, would answer all purposes so far as
bombardment from fleets is concerned. This is not saying that the forts are
good enough in their present condition, but simply that they can readily be
made far superior in strength, both offensive and defensive, to any fleet that
could possibly be provided at anything like the same expense, or in fact at
any expense that would be justified by the condition of our treasury, either
past, present, or probable future. It might be added that a still more serious
difficulty in the way of the military engineer, so far as practice and its
consequent experiences are concerned, is that for many years past, until
quite recently, there have been no funds either for experiments or actual
work on fortifications, so that very little has been done on them during the
last twenty years.

Without going into the question of the necessity for sea coast defenses, we
may assume that an enemy is likely to come into one of our harbors and that
it is desirable to keep him out. What provisions must be made to accomplish
this, i.e., to secure the safety of the harbors and the millions of dollars'
worth of destructible property concentrated at the great trade centers that
are usually located upon those harbors? We must first take a look at the
enemy and see what he is like before we can decide what will be needed to
repel his attack. For this purpose we need not draw on the imagination, but
we may simply examine some of the more recent armadas sent to bombard

seaports. For example, the fleet sent by Great Britain to bombard the
Egyptian city of Alexandria, in 1882. This fleet consisted of eight heavy
ironclad ships of from 5,000 to 11,000 tons displacement and five or six
smaller vessels; and the armament of this squadron numbered more than
one hundred guns of all calibers, from the sixteen inch rifle down to the
seven inch rifle, besides several smaller guns. But this fleet represented
only a small fraction of England's naval power. During some recent
evolutions she turned out thirty-six heavy ironclads and forty smaller
vessels and torpedo boats. The crews of these vessels numbered nearly
19,000 officers and men, or about three times the entire number in our navy.
Such a fleet, or, more likely, a much larger one, might appear at the entrance
say of New York harbor within ten days after a declaration of war, and
demand whatever the nation to which it belonged might choose, with the
alternative of bombardment.

The problem of protecting our people and property from such attacks is not
a new one, and, in fact, most of the conditions of this problem remain the
same as they were fifty years ago, the differences being in degree rather
than in kind. The most natural thought would be to meet such a fleet by
another fleet, but the folly of such a course will become apparent from a
moment's consideration. The difficulties would be:

1st. Our fleet must be decidedly stronger than that of the enemy, or we
simply fight a duel with an equal chance of success or failure.

2d. In such a duel the enemy would risk nothing but the loss of his fleet,
and even a portion of that would be likely to escape, but we would not only
risk a similar loss, but we would also lose the city or subject it to the
payment of a heavy contribution to the enemy.

3d. Unless we have a fleet for every harbor, it would be impossible to
depend upon this kind of defense, as the enemy would select whichever
harbor he found least prepared to receive him. It would be of vital
importance that we defend every harbor of importance, as a neglect to do so
would be like locking some of our doors and leaving the others open to the
burglars.

4th. It might be thought that we could send our fleet to intercept the enemy
or blockade him in his own ports, but this has been found impracticable.
Large fleets can readily escape from blockaded harbors, or elude each other
on the high seas, and any such scheme implies that we are much stronger on
the ocean than the enemy, which is very far from the case. To build a navy
that would overmatch that of Great Britain alone would not only cost untold
millions, but it would require many years for its accomplishment; and even
if this were done, there would be nothing unusual in an alliance of two or
more powerful nations, which would leave us again in the minority. Fleets,
then, cannot be relied on for permanent defense.

Again, it may be said that we have millions of the bravest soldiers in the
world who could be assembled and placed under arms at a few days' notice.
This kind of defense would also prove a delusion, for a hundred acres of
soldiers armed with rifles and field artillery would be powerless to drive
away even the smallest ironclad or stop a single projectile from one. In fact,
neither of these plans, nor both together, would be much more effective
than the windmills and proclamations which Irving humorously describes as
the means adopted by the early Dutch governors of New York to defend that
city against the Swedes and Yankees.

Having considered some of the means of defense that will not answer the
purpose, we may inquire what means will be effective. And here it should
be noted that our defenses should be so effective as not only to be
reasonably safe, but to be so recognized by all nations, and thus discourage,
if not actually prevent, an attack upon our coast.

In the first place, we must have heavy guns in such numbers and of such
sizes as to overmatch those of any fleet likely to attack us. These guns must
be securely mounted, so as to be worked with facility and accuracy, and
they must be protected from the enemy's projectiles at least as securely as
his guns are from ours. Merely placing ourselves on equal terms with the
enemy, as in case of a duel or an ancient knight's tournament, will not
answer, first, because such a state of things would invite rather than
discourage attack, and secondly, because the enemy would have vastly more
to gain by success and vastly less to lose by failure than we would. This can
be accomplished much easier than is generally supposed, either by earthen

parapets of sufficient thickness or by iron turrets or casements. It is evident
that the weight of metal used in these structures may be vastly greater than
could be carried on shipboard. Great weight of metal is no objection on
land, but, aside from its cost, is a positive advantage. This is evident when
we consider the enormous quantity of energy stored in the larger projectiles
moving at high velocities. For example, we often hear of the sixteen inch
rifle whose projectile weighs about one ton, and this enormous mass
projected at a velocity of 2,000 feet per second would have a kinetic energy
of 60,000 foot tons, or it would strike a blow equal to that of ten
locomotives of 50 tons each running at 60 miles an hour and striking a solid
wall. Any structure designed to resist such ponderous blows must, therefore,
have enormous weight, or it will be overturned or driven bodily from its
foundations. If the armor itself is not thick enough to give the required
weight as well as resistance to penetration, the additional stability must be
supplied by re-enforcing it with heavy masses of metal or masonry. It is
evident, therefore, that quality of metal is less important than quantity, and
that so long as it is sufficiently tough to resist fracture, a soft, cheap metal,
like wrought iron or low steel, is better adapted for permanent works than
any of the fancy kinds of armor that have been tested for naval purposes. As
an illustration of this, we may compare compound or steel-faced armor with
wrought iron as follows: The best of the former offers only about one-third
greater resistance to penetration than the latter, or 12 inches of compound
armor may equal 16 inches of wrought iron, but the cost per ton is nearly
double; so that by using wrought iron we may have double the thickness, or
24 inches, which would give more than double the resistance to penetration,
in addition to giving double the stability against overturning or being driven
bodily out of place. But our guns may be reasonably well protected by
earthen parapets without any expensive armor by so mounting them that
when fired they will recoil downward or to one side, so as to come below
the parapet for loading. This method of mounting is called the disappearing
principle, and has been suggested by many engineers, some of whose
designs date back more than one hundred years. We may also mount our
guns in deep pits, where they will be covered from the enemy's guns, and
fire them at high elevation, so that the shell will fall from a great height and
penetrate the decks of the enemy's ships. This is known as mortar firing, but
the modern ordnance used for this purpose is more of a howitzer than a
mortar, being simply short rifled pieces arranged for breech loading. All our

batteries should, of course, be as far from the city or other object to be
protected as possible, to prevent the enemy from firing over and beyond the
batteries into the city.

But, with all these precautions, the enemy might put on all steam and run by
us either at night or in a dense fog, and we must have some means of
holding him under the fire of our guns until his ships can be disabled or
driven away. This object is sought to be accomplished by the use of
torpedoes anchored in the channels and under the fire of our guns, so that
they cannot be removed by the enemy. These torpedoes are generally
exploded by electricity from batteries located in casements on shore, these
casements being connected with the torpedoes by submarine cables. It is
easy to see how the torpedo may be so arranged that when struck by a ship
the electric current will be closed, and, if the battery on shore is connected
at the same instant, an explosion will take place; on the other hand, if the
battery on shore is disconnected a friendly ship may pass in safety over the
torpedoes. Many ingenious contrivances have also been devised by which
the torpedo may be made to signal back to the shore station either that it has
been struck or that it is in good order for service, in case the enemy should
undertake to run over it. One simple plan for this is to have a small
telephone in the torpedo with some loose buckshot on the diaphragm, which
is placed in a horizontal position, and will be slightly tilted as the torpedo is
moved about by the waves. By connecting the shore end of the cable with a
telephone receiver, the rolling of the shot may be distinctly heard if the
torpedo is floating properly, but if sunk at its moorings, or if the cable is
broken, no sound will be heard.

The use of torpedoes involves the use of both electricity and high
explosives, and a careful study based upon actual experiments has been
carried on for many years, by the engineers and naval officers in all
civilized countries. Some of these experiments have supplied interesting
and useful data, for the use of the agents in question, for various industrial
purposes.

Another form of torpedo is that known as the locomotive torpedo, of which
there are several kinds; some are propelled by liquid carbonic acid, which is
carried in a strong tank and acts through a compact engine in driving the

propeller. One of these is steered by electricity from the shore, and is known
as the Lay-Haight torpedo, and can run twenty-five miles per hour. The
Whitehead torpedo is also propelled by liquid carbonic acid, but is not
steered from shore. Its depth is regulated by an automatic device actuated
by the pressure of the water. The Howell torpedo is driven by a heavy fly
wheel which is set in rapid rotation just before the torpedo is launched. It
has but a short range and is intended for launching from ships. Another
torpedo is propelled and steered from shore by rapidly pulling out of it two
fine steel wires which, in unwinding, drive the twin screw propellers. This
is the Brennan torpedo. The Sims-Edison torpedo is both propelled and
steered by electricity from the shore, transmitted to a motor and steering
relay in the torpedo by an insulated cable. This cable has two cores and is
paid out by the torpedo as it travels through the water just as a spider pays
out its web. The cable is about half an inch in diameter and two miles long,
and the torpedo can be driven at about eighteen miles per hour with a
current of thirty amperes and 1,800 volts pressure.

Still another auxiliary weapon of defense is the dynamite gun, or rather, a
pneumatic gun, that throws long projectiles carrying from 250 to 450
pounds of dynamite, to a distance of about two miles. The shells are
arranged to explode soon after striking the water, by an ingenious battery
that ignites the fuse as soon as the salt water enters it. The gun, which is
known as the Zalinski gun, is some sixty feet long and fifteen inches in
caliber, the compressed air being suddenly admitted to it from the reservoirs
at any desired pressure by a special form of valve that regulates the range.
These guns are to be mounted in deep pits and fired at somewhat higher
elevations than ordinary guns, but it has great accuracy within reasonable
limits of range.

FIELD FORTIFICATIONS.

In field fortification an enormous quantity of work was done during our last
war. Washington, Richmond, Nashville, Petersburg, Norfolk, New Berne,
Plymouth, Vicksburg, and many other cities were elaborately fortified by
field works which involved the handling of vast quantities of earth, and,
where the opposing lines were near together, ditches, abbatis, ground
torpedoes, and wire entanglements were freely used. In some cases the

same ground was fortified in succession by both armies, so that the total
amount of work expended, in this way, would have built several hundred
miles of railway. Around Richmond and Petersburg alone the development
of field works was far greater than Wellington's celebrated lines at Torres
Vedras. In all future wars, when large armies are opposed to each other, it is
probable that field works will play even a more important part than in the
past. The great advantage of such works, since the introduction of the
deadly breech loading rifles and machine guns, was shown at Plevna, where
the Russians were almost annihilated in attempting to capture the Turkish
intrenchments.

SIEGES.

It is not proposed to go into historical or other details of this branch of the
subject, but to give in a condensed form some account of siege operations.
According to the text books, the first thing to be done, if possible, in case of
a regular siege, is to "invest" the fortress. This is done by surrounding it as
quickly as possible with a continuous line of troops, who speedily intrench
themselves and mount guns bearing outward on all lines of approach to the
fortress, to prevent the enemy from sending in supplies or re-enforcements.
As this line must be at considerable distance from the fort, it is usually quite
long, and so is its name, for it is called the line of "Circumvallation." Inside
of this line is then established a similar line facing toward the fort, to
prevent sorties by the garrison. This line is called the line of
"Countervallation," and should be as close to the fort as the range of its
guns and the nature of the ground will permit. From this line the troops rush
forward at night and open the trenches, beginning with what is called the
first parallel, which should be so laid out as to envelop those parts of the
fort which are to be made the special objects of attack. From this first
parallel a number of zigzag trenches are started toward the fort and at
proper intervals other parallels, batteries, and magazines are built; this
method of approach being continued until the besieged fort is reached, or
until such batteries can be brought to bear upon it as to breech the walls and
allow the attacking troops to make an assault.

During these operations of course many precautions must be observed, both
by the attacking and defending force, to annoy each other and to prevent

surprise, and the work is mostly carried on under cover of the earth thrown
from the trenches. These operations were supposed to occupy, under normal
conditions, about forty-one days, or rather nights, as most of the work is
done after dark, at the end of which time the fort should be reduced to such
a condition that its commander, having exhausted all means of defense,
would be justified in considering terms of surrender.

The Theoretical Journal of the siege prescribes just what is to be done each
day by both attack and defense up to the final catastrophe, and this
somewhat discouraging outlook for the defenders was forcibly illustrated by
the late Captain Derby, better known by the reading public as "John
Phœnix," who, when a cadet, was called upon by Professor Mahan to
explain how he would defend a fort, mounting a certain number of guns and
garrisoned by a certain number of men, if besieged by an army of another
assumed strength in men and guns, replied:

"I would immediately evacuate the fort and then besiege it and capture it
again in forty-one days."

Of course the fallacy of this reasoning was in the fact that the besieging
army is generally supposed to be four or five times as large as the garrison
of the fort; the primary object of forts being to enable a small force to hold
a position, at least for a time, against a much larger force of the enemy.

Sieges have changed with the development of engines of war, from the rude
and muscular efforts of personal prowess like that described in Ivanhoe,
where the Black Knight cuts his way through the barriers with his battle
axe, to such sieges as those at Vicksburg, Petersburg, and Plevna, where the
individual counted for very little, and the results depended upon the
combined efforts of large numbers of men and systematic siege operations.
It should also be noticed that modern sieges are not necessarily hampered
by the rules laid down in text books, but vary from them according to
circumstances.

For example, many sieges have been carried to successful issues without
completely investing or surrounding the fortress. This was the case at
Petersburg, where General Lee was entirely free to move out, or receive
supplies and re-enforcements up to the very last stages of the siege. In other

cases, as at Fort Pulaski, Sumter, and Macon, the breeching batteries were
established at very much greater distances than ever before attempted, and
the preliminary siege operations were very much abbreviated and some of
them omitted altogether. This is not an argument against having well
defined rules and principles, but it shows that the engineer must be prepared
to cut loose from old rules and customs whenever the changed state of
circumstances requires different treatment.

MILITARY BRIDGES.

In the movement of armies, especially on long marches in the enemy's
country, one of the greatest difficulties to be overcome is the crossing of
streams, and this is usually done by means of portable bridges. These may
be built of light trestles with adjustable legs to suit the different depths, or
of wooden or canvas boats supporting a light roadway wide enough for a
single line of ordinary wagons or artillery carriages. The materials for these
bridges, which are known as Ponton Bridges, are loaded upon wagons and
accompany the army on its marches, and when required for use the bridge is
rapidly put together, piece by piece, in accordance with fixed rules, which
constitute, in fact, a regular drill. The wooden boats are quite heavy and are
used for heavy traffic, but for light work, as, for example, to accompany the
rapid movements of the cavalry, boats made of heavy canvas, stretched
upon light wooden frames, that are put together on the spot, are used.

During Gen. Sherman's memorable Georgia campaign and march to the sea,
over three miles of Ponton bridges were built in crossing the numerous
streams met with, and nearly two miles of trestle bridges. In Gen. Grant's
Wilderness campaign the engineers built not less than thirty-eight bridges
between the Rappahannock and the James Rivers, these bridges aggregating
over 6,600 feet in length. Under favorable circumstances such bridges can
be built at the rate of 200 to 300 feet per hour, and they can be taken up at a
still more rapid rate. When there is no bridge train at hand the engineer is
obliged to use such improvised materials as he can get; buildings are torn
down to get plank and trees are cut to make the frame. Sometimes single
stringers will answer, but if a greater length of bridge is required it may be
supported on piles or trestles, or in deep water on rafts of logs or casks. But
the heavy traffic of armies, operating at some distance from their bases,

must be transported by rail, and the building of railway bridges or
rebuilding those destroyed by the enemy is an important duty of the
engineer. On the Potomac Creek, in Virginia, a trestle bridge 80 feet high
and 400 feet long was built in nine working days, from timber out of the
neighborhood. Another bridge across the Etowah River, in Georgia, was
built in Gen. Sherman's campaign, and a similar bridge was also built over
the Chattahoochee.

SURVEYS AND EXPLORATIONS.

For more than half a century before the building of the great Pacific
railways, engineer officers were engaged in making surveys and
explorations in the great unknown country west of the Mississippi River,
and the final map of that country was literally covered with a network of
trails made by them. Several of these officers lost their lives in such
expeditions, while others lived to become more famous as commanders
during the great rebellion. Generals Kearney, J.E. Johnston, Pope, Warren,
Fremont and Parke, and Colonels Long, Bache, Emory, Whipple, Woodruff
and Simpson, Captains Warner, Stansbury, Gunnison and many other
officers, generally in their younger days, contributed their quota to the
geographical knowledge of the country, and made possible the wonderful
network of railways guarded by military posts that has followed their
footsteps. Their reports fill twelve large quarto volumes.

BOUNDARY AND LAKE SURVEYS.

The astronomical location of the boundaries of the several States and
Territories, as well as of the United States, is a duty frequently required of
the engineer officer, and such a survey between this country and Mexico is
now in progress. The entire line of the 49th parallel of latitude from the
Lake of the Woods to the Pacific Ocean, which forms our northern
boundary, was located a few years ago by a joint commission of English
and United States engineers, and monuments were established at short
intervals over its entire length.

A careful geodetic and hydrographic survey of the Great Northern Lakes,
including every harbor upon them and the rivers connecting them, was

carried on for many years and was finally completed some ten years ago.
Maps and charts of these surveys are published from time to time for use of
pilots navigating these waters.

Not only are the duties of the military engineer similar in many respects to
those of the civil engineer, but there are many instances in which the duties
of one branch of the profession have been performed by members of the
other branch, quite as efficiently as though they had been performed by
engineers specially educated for the purpose. During the late civil war there
were many illustrations of this, all showing that an ingenious engineer can
readily adapt himself to circumstances entirely different from those to
which he has been accustomed. A very good example of this occurred in the
Red River expedition of General Banks and Admiral Porter. In that
memorable but disastrous campaign an army accompanied by a fleet of
transports and light draught gunboats, sometimes called "tin clads" because
some parts of them were covered with boiler plate to stop the bullets of the
enemy, ascended the Red River in Louisiana; but the advance having been
checked and a retreat commenced, it was found that the river had fallen to
such a low state that the fleet was caught above the rapids near Alexandria,
and it would in all probability have been a complete loss had it not been for
the timely application of engineering skill by Lieut. Col. Joseph Bailey, a
civil engineer from Wisconsin, who built a temporary dam across the river
below the rapids and floated out the entire fleet. This dam was over 750 feet
long and in connection with some auxiliary dams raised the water level
some 6½ feet. It was built under many difficulties, but by the skill and
ability of the engineer and the co-operation of the troops it was completed
in ten days. Another case was at the siege of Petersburg, Va., where Lieut.
Col. Pleasants, a Pennsylvania coal miner, ran a gallery from our lines,
under the rebel battery, some 500 feet distant, and blew it entirely out of
existence. The mine contained four tons of powder and produced a crater
200 feet by 50 feet and 25 feet deep, and was completed in one month. The
sequel to this was to be an attack on the enemy's line through the gap made
by the explosion, and such an attack properly followed up would doubtless
have had a marked effect in shortening the duration of the war, but this
attack was so badly managed that it utterly failed and caused a severe loss
to our own army. The mine itself, however, was a great success and

produced a decided moral effect on both sides which lasted until the end of
the war.

It may be out of place to digress a moment to illustrate the moral effect of
such a convulsion. Several weeks after this great mine explosion, the 18th
Army Corps, to which I then belonged, was holding a line of works recently
captured from the rebels, about six miles from Richmond, when one night
the colonel commanding Fort Harrison, a large field work forming a part of
this line, came down to headquarters and reported that some old
Pennsylvania coal miners in his command had heard mining going on under
the fort. As the nearest part of the enemy's line was some 400 yards from
the fort, I was quite certain that they could not have run a gallery that
distance in the time that had elapsed since we occupied the work, but there
was of course the possibility that the mine had been partly built beforehand
so as to be ready in just such a case as had arisen, viz., the capture of the
fort by our troops. I therefore went with the colonel up to the fort to listen
for the mining operations, and got the men who claimed to have heard the
subterranean noises, down in the bottom of the ditch of the fort, which was
ten feet deep, and at the angles formed a fairly good listening gallery, but
nothing unusual could be heard. I therefore made arrangements to sink a
line of pits in the bottom of the ditch, something like ordinary wells; the
bottoms of these pits to be finally connected by a horizontal gallery which
would envelop the fort and enable us to hear the enemy and blow him up,
before he could get under the fort. Although the commanding officer of that
fort was as brave an officer as the war developed, he would not keep his
men in the fort after dark, but withdrew them quietly to the flanks of the
work, where they not only would be safe from an explosion, but would be
ready to fall upon the enemy in case he should blow up the fort and rush in
to capture the line, as our troops had attempted to do at Petersburg. No
explosion took place, however, and after our countermining work was
completed, the garrison became reassured and remained in the fort at night
as well as in day time. A few months later, when the enemy was driven
from his lines, I went through his works to see whether any mining had
been attempted, and found that a gallery leading toward Fort Harrison had
been carried quite a distance, but was still incomplete, and it is barely
possible that the old miners were right, after all, in thinking that they could

hear the sound of the pick, although the distance was almost too great to
make this theory very probable.

Still another illustration of the way in which civil engineers can make
themselves extremely useful in military operations was the wonderful
system of military railways, or railways operated for military purposes, that
formed complete lines of transportation for the armies and their enormous
quantities of supplies and munitions, more especially those in the West and
Southwest. Construction trains were organized in the most complete style,
and when a piece of track or a number of bridges were destroyed by the
enemy, they would be rebuilt so rapidly that our trains would hardly seem
to be delayed by it. The trains carried spare rails, ties, and bridges of
various lengths ready to put up, and they also carried the necessary rolling
stock and tools for destroying the roads and bridges of the enemy. So expert
had this construction corps become that the enemy was ready to believe
almost any statement in regard to it. General Sherman tells of an instance
where it was proposed to blow up a tunnel, to check his "March to the Sea,"
when one of the men objected, saying it was of no use, for Sherman had a
duplicate tunnel in his train.

Although this is not a sermon, it may not be out of place to point out a few
qualifications common to all engineers, for they all deal more or less with
the same materials and forces and employ similar methods of investigation
and construction. Wood, iron, steel, copper and stone and their compounds
are the materials of the civil, mining, mechanical and electrical, as well as
of the military engineers. They all deal with the forces of gravitation,
cohesion, inertia and chemical affinity. They all require skill, intelligence,
industry, confidence, accuracy, thoroughness, ingenuity and, beyond all,
sound judgment. Wanting in any one of these qualifications, an engineer is
more or less disqualified for important work. It is said that a distinguished
engineer was always afraid to cross his own bridges, although built in the
most thorough and approved manner. He was deficient in confidence.
Another engineer distinguished for his mathematical attainments built a
bridge which promptly collapsed at the first opportunity. On overhauling his
computations he ejaculated somewhat forcibly, "That confounded minus
sign! It should have been plus." He was deficient in sound judgment, or
what is sometimes called "horse sense."

Another and more common defect in young engineers is a want of
thoroughness. It is generally best to go to the bottom of a question at first
and keep at it until it is thoroughly and fully completed. Confucius says, "If
thou hast aught to do, first consider, second act, third let the soul resume her
tranquillity." Those who begin a great many things and never fully complete
them lose a great deal of valuable time, but do very little valuable work.
The way to avoid this difficulty is to be cautious about beginning things, but
when once started don't leave it until you are satisfied to leave it for good.
There is an Arabian saying, "Never undertake all you can do, for he who
undertakes all he can do will frequently undertake more than he can do."

Another common error is extravagance. On the plea that "the best is always
the cheapest," and to be sure of a large factor of safety, or as the late Mr.
Holley called it a "factor of ignorance," without much trouble to
themselves, some engineers use more or better materials than the work
requires, and thus greatly increase the cost without any corresponding
advantage. Almost any engineer can do almost anything in the way of
engineering if not limited by the cost, but the man who knows just what
materials to use and how to use them so that they will answer the purpose as
to strength and durability can save his own salary to his employer many
times over by simply omitting unnecessary expense.

[1]

A lecture delivered before the students of Sibley College, Cornell
University, December 4, 1891.—The Crank.]

HOW MECHANICAL RUBBER GOODS ARE
MADE.
While the manufacture of rubber goods is in no sense a secret industry, the
majority of buyers and users of such goods have never stepped inside of a
rubber mill, and many have very crude ideas as to how the goods are made
up. In ordinary garden hose, for instance, the process is as follows: The
inner tubing is made of a strip of rubber fifty feet in length, which is laid on
a long zinc-covered table and its edges drawn together over a hose pole.
The cover, which is of what is called "friction," that is cloth with rubber
forced through its meshes, comes to the hose maker in strips, cut on the
bias, which are wound around the outside of the tube and adhere tightly to
it. The hose pole is then put in something like a fifty foot lathe, and while
the pole revolves slowly, it is tightly wrapped with strips of cloth, in order
that it may not get out of shape while undergoing the process of
vulcanizing. When a number of these hose poles have been covered in this
way they are laid in a pan set on trucks and are then run into a long boiler,
shut in, and live steam is turned on. When the goods are cured steam is
blown off, the vulcanizer opened and the cloths are removed. The hose is
then slipped off the pole by forcing air from a compressor between the
rubber and the hose pole. This, of course, is what is known as hose that has
a seam in it.

For seamless hose the tube is made in a tubing machine and slipped upon
the hose pole by reversing the process that is used in removing hose by air
compression. In other words, a knot is tied in one end of the fifty foot tube
and the other end is placed against the hose pole and being carefully
inflated with air it is slipped on without the least trouble. For various kinds
of hose the processes vary, and there are machines for winding with wire
and intricate processes for the heavy grades of suction hose, etc. For steam
hose, brewers', and acid hose, special resisting compounds are used, that as
a rule are the secrets of the various manufacturers. Cotton hose is woven
through machines expressly designed for that purpose, and afterward has a
half-cured rubber tube drawn through it. One end is then securely stopped

up and the other end forced on a cone through which steam is introduced to
the inside of the hose, forcing the rubber against the cotton cover, finishing
the cure and fixing it firmly in its place.

CORRUGATED MATTING.

After the mixing of the compound and the calendering, that is the spreading
it in sheets, the great roll of rubber and cloth that is to be made into
corrugated matting is sent to the pressman. Here it is hung in a rack and
fifteen or twenty feet of it drawn between the plates of the huge hydraulic
steam press. The bottom plate of this press is grooved its whole length, so
that when the upper platen is let down the plain sheet of rubber is forced
into the grooves and the corrugations are formed. While in that position
steam is let into the upper and lower platens and the matting is cured. After
it has been in there the proper time, cold water is let into the press, it is
cooled off, and the upper platen being raised, it is ready to come out. A
simple device for loosening the matting from the grooves into which it has
been forced is a long steel rod, with a handle on one hand like an auger
handle, which, being introduced under the edge and twisted, allows the air
to enter with it and releases it from the mould.

PACKING.

Sheet packing is often times made in a press, like corrugated matting. The
varieties, however, known as gum core have to go through a different
process. Usually a core is squirted through a tube machine and the outside
covering of jute or cotton, or whatever the fabric may be, is put on by a
braider or is wrapped about it somewhat after the manner of the old
fashioned cloth-wrapped tubing. The fabric is either treated with some heat-
resisting mixture or something that is a lubricant, plumbago and oil being
the compound. Other packings are made from the ends of belts cut out in a
circular form and treated with a lubricant. There are scores of styles that
make special claims for excellences that are made in a variety of ways, but
as a rule the general system as outlined above is followed.

JAR RINGS.

The old fashioned way of making jar rings was first to take a large mandrel
and wrap it around with a sheet of compounded rubber until the thickness of
the ring was secured. It was then held in place by a further wrapping of
cloth, vulcanized, put in a lathe and cut up into rings by hand. That manner
of procedure, however, was too slow, and it is to-day done almost wholly by
machinery. For example, the rubber is squirted out of a mammoth tubing
machine in the shape of a huge tube, then slipped on a mandrel and
vulcanized. It is then put in an automatic lathe and revolving swiftly is
brought against a sharp knife blade which cuts ring after ring until the
whole is consumed, without any handling or watching.—India Rubber
World.

HOW ENAMELED LETTERS ARE MADE.
The following is a description of a brief visit by a representative of the
Journal of Decorative Art to the new factory of the Patent Letter and
Enamel Company, Ltd., situate in the East End of London.

The company have recently secured a large freehold plot in the center of the
East End of London, and have built for themselves a most commodious and
spacious factory, some hundreds of feet in length, all on one floor, and
commanded from one end by the manager's office, from whence can be
seen at a glance the entire premises.

The works are divided into two large compartments, and are lighted from
the roof, ample provision being made for ventilation, and attention being
given to those sanitary conditions which are, or should be, imperative on all
well managed establishments.

We first explore the stockroom. Here are stored the numerous dies, of all
sizes and shapes, which the company possess, varying in size from half an
inch to twelve or sixteen inches. Here, too, is kept the large store of thin
sheet copper out of which the letters are stamped. Our readers are familiar
with the form or principle upon which these letters are made. It is simply a
convex surface, the reverse side being concave, and being fixed on to the
glass or other material with a white lead preparation. When these letters
were first made, the practice was to cut or stamp them out in flat copper,
and then to round or mould them by a second operation. Recent
improvements in the machinery, however, have dispensed with this dual
process, and the stamping and moulding is done in the one swift, sharp
operation.

The process of making an enameled letter has four stages—stamping,
enameling, firing, and filing. There are other and subsequent processes for
elaborating, but those named are of the essence of the transaction.

STAMPING.

The stamping is done by means of presses, and is a very rapid and complete
operation.

The operator takes a piece of the sheet copper, places it on the press, the
lever descends, there is a sharp crunching, bursting sound, and in a time
shorter than it has taken to describe, the letter is made, sharp and perfect in
every way.

ENAMELING.

The letters are now taken charge of by a girl, who lays them out on a wire
tray, the hollow side up, and paints them over with a thin mordant. While
they are in this position, and before the mordant dries, they are taken on the
gridiron-like tray to a kind of large box, which is full of the powdered
enamel, and, holding the tray in her left hand, the girl takes a fine sieve full
of the powder and dusts it over the letter, all superfluous powder falling
through the open wirework and into the bin again, so that there is absolutely
no waste.

DUSTING THE LETTERS BEFORE FIRING.

FIRING.

The letters are now taken and placed carefully on thin iron disks or plates
on the bench, where they remain until they are fired. It will be remembered
that we said at the outset that the factory was divided into two large
compartments, and it is into the second of these that we now go.

Here are ranged the series of furnaces which convert the copper and
superincumbent enamel into one common body—fuse the one into the
other. An unwary step soon warns us that we are too near the furnace,
unless we want to run the risk of a premature cremation, and in the interests
of the readers of this journal we step back to a respectful and proper
distance, and watch the operations from afar.

There seems to be something innately picturesque about all furnaces and
those who work about them. Whether it is the Rembrandt effects produced
by the strong light and shade, or whether it is that the necessary use of the
long iron instruments, such as all furnace workers employ, compels a
certain dignity and grace of poise and action, we know not; but certain it is
that the grace is there in a marked degree, and as we watched the men take
their long-handled iron tongs and place in or lift out the plates of hot metal,
we could not fail to be impressed with the charm of the physical action they
displayed.

The disk containing the enameled letters is taken at the end of a long iron
handle and carefully placed in a dome-shaped muffle. These muffles are all
heated from the outside; that is, the fire is all round the chamber, but not in
it, the fumes of the sulphur being destructive of the enamel if they are
allowed to come into contact with it. So intense is the heat, however, that a
muffle lasts only about nine days, and at the end of that time has to be
renewed.

FIRING THE LETTERS.

After the enamel is fused on to the copper, the disk is taken out and placed
on a side slab, where it is allowed to cool.

This process is repeated on the front side of the letter, when all that remains
to complete it is

THE FILING.

FILING THE LETTERS AFTER ENAMELING.

This is done by girls, who, with very fine files, rub off the edges and any
protuberances which may be there. Every letter is subject to this operation,
and all are turned out smooth and well finished.

Sometimes the letters are colored or further defined by the addition of a
line, but the essentials are as we have already described.

MIXING THE ENAMEL.

BRUSHING OUT.

There are, however, one or two other operations of interest which we may
notice. The company do not confine their exertions to the making of letters,
various collateral developments having taken place which fill an important
part in this scheme of work.

Of these, small tablets, containing advertisements or notices, such as we see
in railway carriages, "Push after raising window," or "Close this door after
you," or some legend pertaining to Brown's Soap or Robinson's Washing
Powder. These are done by different processes, the transfer process, as used
in the potteries, being employed, but the one most largely used is that of
"brushing out," which is done by plates.

Let us suppose that the tablet shows white letters on a dark ground, the
modus operandi is as follows:

The tablet has been enameled, as already described, and is white. The
operator now takes a dark enamel and spreads it evenly over the entire
surface of the tablet. He, or she, now takes a stencil plate, of tinfoil, out of
which the ground is cut, leaving the letter in the center.

This is carefully placed over the tablet and held tight with the left hand,
while with the right hand he holds a fine brush, which he uses with a quick,
sharp movement over the surface. This action readily removes the unfired
color from the hard, glassy surface underneath, and leaves a white letter.
This is fired, and is then complete.

Sometimes two and, it may be, three plates are necessary to complete the
brushing out, as ties must be left, as in the case of ordinary stencils, and
these have to be brushed out with additional plates. Two or three colors may
be introduced by this process, but each separate color means separate firing.
If the letters are dark on a light ground, the process is exactly the same, the
stencil only being modified. In addition to the letters and tablets thus
described, the company also undertake the production of large enameled
signs, and to cope with the rapid expansion of this department of their work
they are erecting special furnaces, to enable them to deal with any demand
likely to be made upon them. The call for things permanent and washable in
the way of advertising is on the increase, and the enameled plates made by
the company is one of the most successful ways of meeting the demand.

"THE SMITH A MIGHTY MAN IS HE."

BURNING BRICK WITH CRUDE OIL FUEL.
At the present time there is not the least reason why either wood, coal, or
any other solid fuel should be used for the burning of brick. This style of
burning brick belongs to a past age. The art of brickmaking has made
tremendous progress during the past quarter of a century. It is no longer the
art of the ignorant; brains, capital, experience, science, wide and general
knowledge, must in these days be the property of the successful brick
manufacturer. There are some such progressive brick manufacturers in
Chicago, who use neither coal nor wood in the drying or burning of their
clay products. Crude oil is the fuel which they employ, and with this fuel
they obtain cheaper and better brick than do manufacturers who employ
solid fuel. Some of these manufacturers have expressed themselves as
preferring to quit the brick business rather than return to the use of wood or
coal as fuel in brick burning.

This shows plainly that progress in our art, when it does come, comes to
remain. It is true that crude oil for brick-burning purposes is not everywhere
obtainable. But there is a fuel which is even better than crude oil, namely,
fuel gas, and which can be produced and employed on any brick yard at a
saving of seventy-five per cent. over coal or other solid fuel.

The Rose process for making fuel gas gives a water gas enriched by
petroleum. Roughly, about half the cost of this gas as made at Bellefonte,
Pa., was for oil. The gas cost 6.68c. per 1,000 cu. ft., with oil at 2¼c. a
gallon. At double this price the gas would cost but 10c., and show that in
practice, foot for foot, it equals natural gas.

Fuel gas means a larger investment of capital than does any of the other
modes of brick burning, and is, therefore, not within the reach of the entire
trade. The cost of appliances for burning brick with crude oil is not very
large, and as all grate bars, iron frames, and doors can be dispensed with in
the use of crude oil fuel, the cost of an oil-burning equipment is but little in
excess of an equipment of grates, etc., for coal-burning kilns.

At works using small amounts of fuel, especially if cost of fuel bears but a
small proportion to total cost of the manufactured product, oil will be in the
future very largely used. It is clean, as compared with coal, can be easily
handled, and when carefully used in small quantities, is safe. There are
several methods of burning oil that are well adapted to the use of brick
manufacturers and other fuel consumers.

The Pennsylvania Railroad made some very thorough experiments on the
use of petroleum in their locomotives, and while the results obtained are
reported to have been satisfactory, it was the opinion of those having the
experiments in charge that the demand for the Pennsylvania Railroad alone,
were it to change its locomotives from coal to oil, would consume all the
surplus and send up the price of oil to a figure that would compel a return to
coal.

It is true that production has enormously increased in the last three years,
and the promise for the near future is that a high rate will be maintained. It
is further true that the production of Russia has increased enormously, and
will probably be larger this year than ever before. This Russian oil must go
to markets and supply demands that have been met by American oil, and
this will still further increase the amount of oil available for fuel purposes.

There is no doubt, therefore, that petroleum has a future for fuel uses. Many
brick manufacturers are ready to use it, notwithstanding the possibility of an
advance in its cost.

While there are some objections to the use of petroleum as a fuel, growing
chiefly out of the risk attending its storage and conveyance to the point of
consumption, it is undoubtedly true that the chief objection is the fear that
with the increased demand that would follow any extended use for this
purpose would come an increase in price that would make its continued use
too expensive.

Just four years ago, when the fuel oil industry was first projected, it was
cried down because, as its enemies claimed, there was not enough oil fuel to
be obtained in America to supply the New York City factories alone, to say
nothing of other territory, and because of the high prices for oil that were
sure to follow its substitution for coal fuel. Since then the industry has

experienced a magnificent success, the sales exceeding 20,000,000 barrels a
year, while the price is lower than ever.

A curious impression seems to have gained ground to the effect that the
Standard Oil Company does not want to sell oil for fuel. It may be stated
authoritatively that the company is not only able but willing to sell and
deliver oil for fuel purposes in any quantity that may be desired. It is now
delivering oil for fuel purposes in fourteen States of the Union. For its sales
in Chicago and the West and Northwest, the delivery is by tank cars from
the terminus of the pipe line at South Chicago, to which point it is pumped
from Lima, O. The Chicago price is 1-2/3c. per gallon, or 70c. per barrel of
42 gallons, f.o.b. cars at Chicago.

A great many of the brick manufacturers here and throughout the Northwest
are beginning to use crude petroleum as a substitute for soft coal. It is
smokeless, for the fine spray of oil which comes from the injector consists
of such minute drops of the liquid and is so thoroughly mixed with oxygen
that when it burns the combustion is complete, and only steam and carbonic
acid gas go out of the top of the kiln. Not a speck of soot comes from the
kiln or the smokestack or soils the whitewashed purity of the boiler room.
Oil fuel is absolutely clean. It is labor saving, too. No fireman has to keep
shoveling coal, there are no ashes to be dragged out from under the furnace
grates, and there are no clinkers to clog up the bars. One man, by turning a
valve, may regulate the heat of a kiln containing one million brick.

Not only is it cleaner than coal and calls for less labor, but it is actually
cheaper as a fuel. A barrel and a half of crude oil is equal for furnace fuel to
a ton of the best Illinois bituminous coal, and at 70c. a barrel any one can
easily calculate the advantages petroleum has over its smoky rival.
Theoretically, two barrels of oil equal in heating power one ton of best
Pittsburg coal.

An examination into the relative cost of the Pittsburg and Chicago coal to
the oil consumed shows that the price of oil at Pittsburg is 59c. per barrel of
42 gallons, and slack coal can be purchased at from 70c. to 80c. per ton, and
the best quality of lump coal at from $1.10 to $1.25 per ton, while the same
quality of fuel can be bought in Chicago at about 70c. a barrel, as against
coal at from $2 to $3.50 per ton. It would, therefore, look as though there

could be no question whatever as to the economy and advantages to be
derived from the use of oil as a fuel in this vicinity.

The weight of oil required is less than half that of average coal to produce
the same amount of steam.

A great advantage in using oil as fuel in brick burning is that the fires are
always under the absolute and direct control of the man in charge of the
burning, who can regulate the volume of flame to the nicest degree and
throw the heat to any part of the arches that he may desire.

From present indications, oil will be the fuel adopted generally for
generating power and for brick burning in Chicago, as it saves the boilers,
avoids grate bars, saves dirt and cinders, and reduces running expenses, etc.

Much skepticism was at first exhibited in Chicago only a few years ago
when one of the leading brick manufacturers attempted to burn a kiln of
brick with coal for fuel. Nearly all the brickmakers then in business put on
wise looks and predicted the failure of the experiment with coal. But coal
proved to be a better and cheaper fuel than wood, and in five or six years
wood was used only for the kindling of the coal fires.

Then came the attempt to burn brick with crude oil, and the experiment
having proved a success, coal has been banished from the leading brick
yards in Chicago and vicinity.

The Purington-Kimball Brick Co., Adams J. Weckler, Weber & La Bond,
the May-Purington Brick Co., the Union Brick Co., and the Pullman Brick
Co., all having headquarters in Chicago, as well as the Peerless Brick Co.
and the Pioneer Fireproof Construction Co., both of Ottawa, Ill., are using
crude oil fuel for brick burning.

Lima crude oil is used, and it is atomized by means of steam in small
furnaces extending about two feet from the face of the brick kilns, and in
which furnaces combustion occurs, and the conversion of the oil and steam
into a gaseous fuel is secured. There is little doubt that the fuel employed in
the future by the successful brick manufacturer must be in the gaseous
form. Owing to the enormous cost of handling coal, wood, and other crude

fuel, and of removing the ash resulting from such fuel, it has been
demonstrated in practice by the use of crude oil that the expense connected
with the burning of brick can be reduced fully 60 per cent. This large saving
is made by converting crude petroleum into gas and utilizing this fuel,
either directly in the arches of the kiln or by converting the crude oil into
gas in a gas producer, and drawing this fuel gas from the producer and
burning the same as required in kilns of suitable construction.

Crude oil fuel must in the future play an important part in all branches of
manufacture requiring high, constant heats, and in which the cost of wood,
coal, and other solid fuels, together with the labor cost of handling them,
forms a considerable part of the cost of production. Where coal is required
to be hauled in carts from the wharves, or from a line of railway to the brick
yard, located a mile, more or less, from the places where the coal is
received, the cost of handling, haulage, and waste is an important item.
Added to these costs, the deterioration of soft coal under atmospheric
influences and the waste from imperfect combustion and from the particles
which fall from the grate bars into the ash pits, all eat a large hole in the
brickmakers' profit.

Mr. D.V. Purington, of Chicago, Ill., in speaking on this subject, says:

"I will say that my fuel bill for oil is cheaper than it would cost me for coal.
There is a very wide difference in the cost of unloading, hauling away ashes
and cinders, and getting my coal around to the kiln, or boilers, or drier, or
wherever I use it, and I get very much better results by being able to put the
heat from oil fuel just where I want it."

In order to secure the best results with any fuel it is not only necessary that
a cheap fuel should be used, but that it should be always obtainable, and
that all of it should be burned and turned to commercial account in the
operations of brick manufacture.

Owing to the losses which we have previously mentioned, and resulting
from the use of coal, this fuel is destined to be superseded by some form of
fuel which will avoid such losses, and which will dispense with all of the
inconveniences now encountered in the handling of coal and of the ashes
resulting from combustion. Wood is rapidly becoming too scarce and high

near the great centers of man's habitation to be regarded in the present
discussion.

Fully two hundred million of brick a year are being burned in the city of
Chicago with crude oil fuel, and a clamp kiln containing one million brick
can be burned with crude oil in Chicago at a labor cost of less than $100,
and at a total cost for labor and oil of about 40c. per thousand brick.

There are not, however, many places in the world where brick can be
burned with oil at such a low cost as in the city of Chicago; the reason
being that oil is not everywhere obtainable so cheaply as in this city, and
because few clays in the world are so easily burned into brick as are the
clays of Chicago. In Milwaukee, Wis., and in other places within a distance
of 100 miles from Chicago, the time required to burn building brick with
crude oil fuel averages from sixteen to twenty-one days, whereas the time
of burning the Chicago clays averages only about five days, and splendid
"burns" have been secured there with crude oil in three and one-half days. It
is evident, therefore, that the advantages of using crude oil fuel for the
burning of brick will vary in different parts of the United States.

Where circumstances and the nature of the clay permit of its use, crude oil
is, next to fuel gas, the brickmakers' ideal fuel.—The Brickmaker.

INVESTIGATION OF A MOUND NEAR
JEFFERSON CITY, MO.
By A.S. LOGAN.

Recently, a party consisting of engineers and employes of the Missouri
River Improvement Commission began an exploration of one of the
mounds, a work of a prehistoric race, situated on the bluff, which overlooks
the Missouri River from an elevation of one hundred and fifty feet, located
about six miles below Jefferson City.

This mound is one of about twenty embraced in a circle one quarter of a
mile in diameter.

The above party selected the mound in question apparently at haphazard; all
the mounds presenting nearly a uniform outline, differing only in size and
mostly circular in form, and from twenty to twenty-four feet at the base,
rising to a height of eight feet and under. A trench was cut on a level with
the natural soil, penetrating the mound about eight feet. A stone wall was
encountered which was built very substantially, making access in that
direction difficult, in consequence of which the earth was removed from the
top for the purpose of entering from that direction. The earth was removed
for a depth of four feet, when the top of the wall was exposed. Further
excavation brought to light human bones, some of them fairly well
preserved, especially the bones of the legs. On the removal of these and a
layer of clay, another layer of bones was exposed, but presenting a different
appearance than the first, having evidently been burned or charred, a
considerable quantity of charcoal being mixed with the bones. In this tier
were found portions of several skulls, lying close together, as if they had
been interred without regard to order. They were, in all probability,
detached from the body when buried.

The portions of the skulls found were those of the back of the head, no
frontal bones being discovered. Some jaw bones with the teeth attached

were among the remains, but only that portion of the jaw containing the
molar teeth.

A few pieces of flint weapons were found in the upper layers, and nothing
else of any significance.

At this juncture the diggers abandoned the search, and some days later the
writer, desirous of seeing all that was to be seen, resumed the work and
removed the earth and remains until the bottom of the vault was reached;
several layers being thus removed. All of these had evidently been burned,
as charcoal and ashes were mixed with the bones of each succeeding layer.
The layers were about an inch in thickness, with from two to four inches of
earth between, and small flat stones, about the size of a man's hand, spread
on each different layer, as if to mark its division from the next above.

Between the bottom layers, mixed with charcoal, ashes and small portions
of burned bones were found what gives value to the search, numbering
about fifty tools and a smoking pipe.

The material of the tools is the same as the rock forming the vault, locally
known as "cotton rock." I would consider it a species of sandstone.

Overlying the edge of "cotton rock" in the bluff is flint in great quantities,
and in every conceivable shape, that these people could have resorted to had
they been so disposed, and why they used the softer material I will leave to
some archæologist to determine. The tools themselves are made after no
pattern, but selected for their cutting qualities, as they all have a more or
less keen edge which could be used for cutting purposes, and were no doubt
highly prized, as they were found all in a pile in one corner of the vault and
on top of which was found a stone pipe. The pipe is made bowl and stem
together, and it is curious that people of such crude ideas of tools and
weapons should manufacture such a perfect specimen of a pipe. It is
composed of a very heavy stone, the nature of which would be difficult to
determine, as it is considerably burned.

A description of the vault will be found interesting to many. The wall of the
vault rests upon the natural surface of the ground, about three feet high and
eight and a half feet square, the inside corners being slightly rounded; it is

built in layers about four inches in thickness and varying in length upward
to three feet, neither cement nor mortar being used in the joints; the corners
formed a sort of recess as they were drawn inward to the top, in which
many of the stones were found. The stone for constructing the vault was
brought from a distance of about a quarter of a mile, as there is none in
sight nearer.

I assume from all these circumstances that these people lived in this
neighborhood anterior to the age of flint tools, as the more recent interments
indicate that they were then entering upon the flint industry, and it may be
that the "cotton rock" had become obsolete.

These people buried their dead on the highest ground, covering and
protecting them with these great mounds, when it would seem much easier
to bury as at the present day; but instead, they, with great labor, carried the
rock from a great distance, and it is reasonable to suppose, also, that the
earth was brought from a distance with which they are surrounded, and
piled high above, as there is no trace of an immediate or local excavation.

In my view from the mounds and their surroundings I would unhesitatingly
say the water, the foot hills of the glacier and the swamps left in its wake
were but a short distance to the north of them, and during the summer
months the melting ice would send a volume of water down this valley that
the Missouri River of to-day is but a miniature of, and therefore the highest
hills were the only land that could be used by that ancient race.

In this connection I would make the following suggestions that may lead to
more important disclosures: My object is the hope of a more thorough
investigation at some future time. Nearer to the top of the mound was
found, certainly, the remains of a people of more recent date than those
found in the vault, as their bones were larger, which would indicate a more
stalwart tribe, and also their mode of burial was different, as there was no
indication of fire being used, as was the case with the lower burials. I would
pronounce the upper interments those of Indians of the present day; the
tools found with these were weapons of the chase. On the other hand, those
found in the vault were of a peaceful character, and their surroundings
would readily comport, in my opinion, to the glacial period. The entire
absence of flint in the bottom of the mound would show one of two things,

either they were unacquainted with the use of flint or at that time there was
no flint to be had. It is there now in great abundance, in such forms for
cutting purposes that would render the "cotton rock" almost useless. The
flint is found in a hill close to the river bank, about half a mile from the
mound, and the upper portion of the ledge has the appearance, to me, of
glacial action and probably forms a moraine, as it has, evidently, been
pushed over the underlying ledge, and been ground and splintered in a
manner that could not have been without great crushing force. It would be
reasonable enough to suppose that the action of the river may have
uncovered this flint by washing away the softer material since the
occupation of the older race.

In relation to the Indian interment in the examined mound, I could not say
distinctly whether the Indian burials had been such as to make them aware
of former burials or not, but I think from the thickness of the clay between
the two that they were ignorant of former burials. The mounds of the
modern Indian, so far as my investigations are concerned, would indicate a
more rudely formed structure which would appear to be an imitation of the
older mounds, as they are not finished with like care nor have they the
ulterior structures.—The Scientist.

ACTION OF CAUSTIC SODA ON WOOD.
By M.H. TAUSS.

The researches of the author upon the action which water exerts upon wood
at a high temperature have shown how much of the incrusting material can
be removed without the aid of any reagent.

In connection with the manufacture of cellulose, it is also interesting to
prosecute at the same time experiments with solutions of the caustic
alkalies, in order to study the mode of action upon both wood and pure
cellulose. The manufacture of cellulose has for many years been an
industry, and yet little or nothing from a chemical point of view is known of
the action of caustic soda upon vegetable fibers.

Braconnot, in 1820, obtained alumina by treating wood with an alkali, but
the first application of wood to the manufacture of paper was due to
Chauchard. By boiling vegetable fibers with caustic lyes, Collier and Piette
obtained cellulose. Again, in 1862, Barne and Blondel proposed to make
cellulose in a similar way, but employed nitric acid in the place of soda.

The first cellulose made exclusively from wood and caustic soda was
produced at the Manayunk Wood Pulp Works, in 1854, in the neighborhood
of Philadelphia, by Burgess & Watt. The operation consisted in treating the
wood for six hours at a pressure of from six to eight atmospheres, with a
solution of caustic soda of 12° B.

Ungerer noticed that it was sufficient to limit the pressure from three to six
atmospheres, according to the quality of the wood, and advised the use of
solutions containing four to five per cent. of caustic soda. He employed a
series of cylinders, arranged vertically, in which the wood was subjected to
a methodical system of lixiviation. The same lye passed through many
cylinders, so that when it made its exit at the end it was thoroughly
exhausted, and the wood thus kept coming in contact with fresh alkaline
solutions.

According to the account of Kiclaner, the disintegration of wood may be
effected in the following four ways:

1. By heating direct in boilers at a pressure of 10 atmospheres. (See Dresel
and Rosehain.)

2. In vertical boilers heated direct or by steam, and kept at a pressure of
from 10 to 14 atmospheres. (Sinclair, Nicol, and Behrend.)

3. In revolving boilers, maintained at a pressure of 12 atmospheres by direct
steam.

4. By means of a series of small vessels communicating with each other,
and through which a lye circulates at a pressure of six atmospheres.
(Ungerer.)

This latter process is preferable to the others.

Researches have also been made by the author in order to ascertain the loss
which wood and cellulose suffer at different temperatures or in contact with
varying quantities of alkali (NaHO).

The following is a resumé of the experiments, giving the loss in per cent,
resulting from a "cooking" of three hours duration:

I. Ordinary pressure:
10 grms. cellulose, with 580 c.c. of caustic soda solution, sp. gr.
21.99
1.09
10 grms. of soft wood, treated as above 49.19
10 " hard " 53.68
II. Pressure of five atmospheres:
10 grms. cellulose, with 500 c.c. caustic soda solution of sp. gr.
58.02
1.099
10 grms. of soft wood, treated as above 75.85
10 " hard " 69.80
III. Pressure of ten atmospheres:
10 grms. of cellulose 58.99

10 " soft wood 81.80
10 " hard " 70.39
IV. Ordinary pressure:
10 grms. of cellulose, with 500 c.c. caustic soda solution of sp.
21.88
gr. 1.162
10 grms. of soft wood 35.45
10 " hard " 46.43
V. Pressure of five atmospheres:
10 grms. of cellulose, with 500 c.c. caustic soda solution of sp.
77.33
gr. 1.162
10 grms. of soft wood 97.13
10 " hard " 91.48
VI. Ordinary pressure:
10 grms. of cellulose, with 500 c.c. caustic soda solution of sp.
12.07
gr. 1.043
10 grms. of soft wood 28.37
10 " hard " 30.25
VII. Pressure of five atmospheres:
10 grms. of cellulose, with 500 c.c. of caustic soda solution of
15.36
sp. gr. 1.043
10 grms. of soft wood 50.96
10 " hard " 55.66
VIII. Pressure of ten atmospheres:
10 grms. of cellulose, with 200 c.c. caustic soda solution of sp.
20.28
gr. 1.043
10 grms. of soft wood 70.31
10 " hard " 65.59

From this it is evident that by increasing the temperature and pressure the
solvent action of the alkali is increased, but the strength of the lye exercises
an influence which is even more marked. Thus, at a pressure of five
atmospheres, the loss of cellulose was 0.75 with a caustic lye containing 14
per cent. of NaHO, while it was only 0.05 with a lye of 8 per cent. NaHO.

To further elucidate the action of the alkali under the conditions given
above, the author has estimated the amount of precipitate which alcohol
gives with the soda solutions, after boiling with the wood:

1. 2. 3.
Specific gravity of NaHO solutions 1.043 1.09 1.162
Soft wood, ordinary pressure 1.043 traces 4.8
" pressure of fiveatmospheres 1.043 2.0 26.8
" " ten " 1.043 1.7 —
Hard wood, ordinary pressure 11.10 27.40 30.80
" pressure of fiveatmospheres 1.10 25.70 15.8
" " ten " traces 5.20 15.8

The estimation of the precipitate, produced in the soda solutions employed
in the experiments cited above, gives:

Soft wood, ordinary pressure 1.31 traces 2.0
" pressure of five atmospheres 15.9416.0 24.80
" " ten " 17.0025.4 —
Hard wood, ordinary pressure 5.40 6 5.60
" pressure of five atmospheres 9.40 15.40 33.60
" " ten " 14.0018.40 33.60

As a general rule manufacturers employ a greater pressure than that which
was found necessary by the author. As a result, it appears from these
experiments that the wood not only loses incrusting matter, but that part of
the cellulose enters into solution. As a matter of fact, the yield obtained in
practical working from 100 parts of wood does not exceed 30 to 35 per
cent.—Le Bull. Fab. Pap.; Chemical Trade Journal.

NEW BORON COMPOUNDS.
An important paper is contributed by M. Moissan to the current number of
the Comptes Rendus, describing two interesting new compounds containing
boron, phosphorus, and iodine. A few months ago M. Moissan succeeded in
preparing the iodide of boron, a beautiful substance of the composition BI3,
crystallizing from solution in carbon bisulphide in pearly tables, which melt
at 43° to a liquid which boils undecomposed at 210°. When this substance
is brought in contact with fused phosphorus an intense action occurs, the
whole mass inflames with evolution of violet vapor of iodine. Red
phosphorus also reacts with incandescence when heated in the vapor of
boron iodide. The reaction may, however, be moderated by employing
solutions of phosphorus and boron iodide in dry carbon bisulphide. The two
solutions are mixed in a tube closed at one end, a little phosphorus being in
excess, and the tube is then sealed. No external application of heat is
necessary. At first the liquid is quite clear, but in a few minutes a brown
solid substance commences to separate, and in three hours the reaction is
complete. The substance is freed from carbon bisulphide in a current of
carbon dioxide, the last traces being removed by means of the Sprengel
pump. The compound thus obtained is a deep red amorphous powder,
readily capable of volatilization. It melts between 190° and 200°. When
heated in vacuo it commences to volatilize about 170°, and the vapor
condenses in the cooler portion of the tube in beautiful red crystals.
Analyses of these crystals agree perfectly with the formula BPI2. Boron
phospho-di-iodide is a very hygroscopic substance, moisture rapidly
decomposing it. In contact with a large excess of water, yellow phosphorus
is deposited, and hydriodic, boric, and phosphorus acids formed in the
solution. A small quantity of phosphureted hydrogen also escapes. If a small
quantity of water is used, a larger deposit of yellow phosphorus is formed,
together with a considerable quantity of phosphonium iodide. Strong nitric
acid oxidizes boron phospho-di-iodide with incandescence. Dilute nitric
acid oxidizes it to phosphoric and boric acids. It burns spontaneously in
chlorine, forming boron chloride, chloride of iodine, and pentachloride of
phosphorus. When slightly warmed in oxygen it inflames, the combustion

being rendered very beautiful by the fumes of boric and phosphoric
anhydrides and the violet vapors of iodine. Heated in contact with
sulphureted hydrogen, it forms sulphides of boron and phosphorus and
hydriodic acid, without liberation of iodine. Metallic magnesium when
slightly warmed reacts with it with incandescence. When thrown into vapor
of mercury, boron phospho-di-iodide instantly takes fire.

The second phospho-iodide of boron obtained by M. Moissan is represented
by the formula BPI. It is formed when sodium or magnesium in a fine state
of division is allowed to act upon a solution of the di-iodide just described
in carbon bisulphide; or when boron phospho-di-iodide is heated to 160° in
a current of hydrogen. It is obtained in the form of a bright red powder,
somewhat hygroscopic. It volatilizes in vacuo without fusion at a
temperature about 210°, and the vapor condenses in the cooler portion of
the tube in beautiful orange colored crystals. When heated to low redness it
decomposes into free iodine and phosphide of boron, BP. Nitric acid reacts
energetically with it, but without incandescence, and a certain amount of
iodine is liberated. Sulphuric acid decomposes it upon warming, without
formation of sulphurous and boric acids and free iodine. By the continued
action of dry hydrogen upon the heated compound the iodine and a portion
of the phosphorus are removed, and a new phosphide of boron, of the
composition B5P3, is obtained.—Nature.

BORON SALTS.
A paper upon the sulphides of boron is communicated by M. Paul Sabatier
to the September number of the Bulletin de la Societe Chimique. Nature
gives the following: Hitherto only one compound of boron with sulphur has
been known to us, the trisulphide, B2S3, and concerning even that our
information has been of the most incomplete description. Berzelius
obtained this substance in an impure form by heating boron in sulphur
vapor, but the first practical mode of its preparation in a state of tolerable
purity was that employed by Wohler and Deville. These chemists prepared
it by allowing dry sulphureted hydrogen gas to stream over amorphous
boron heated to redness. Subsequently a method of obtaining boron
sulphide was proposed by Fremy, according to which a mixture of boron
trioxide, soot, and oil is heated in a stream of the vapor of carbon
bisulphide. M. Sabatier finds that the best results are obtained by employing
the method of Wohler and Deville. The reaction between boron and
sulphureted hydrogen only commences at red heat, near the temperature of
the softening of glass. When, however, the tube containing the boron
becomes raised to the temperature, boron sulphide condenses in the portion
of the tube adjacent to the heated portion; at first it is deposited in a state of
fusion, and the globules on cooling present an opaline aspect. Further along
the tube it is slowly deposited in a porcelain like form, while further still the
sublimate of sulphide takes the form of brilliant acicular crystals. The
crystals consist of pure B2S3; the vitreous modification, however, is usually
contaminated with a little free sulphur. Very fine crystals of the trisulphide
may be obtained by heating a quantity of the porcelain-like form to 300° at
the bottom of a closed tube whose upper portion is cooled by water. The
crystals are violently decomposed by water, yielding a clear solution of
boric acid, sulphureted hydrogen being evolved. On examining the
porcelain boat in which the boron had been placed, a non-volatile black
substance is found, which appears to consist of a lower sulphide of the
composition B4S. The same substance is obtained when the trisulphide is
heated in a current of hydrogen; a portion volatilizes, and is deposited again
further along the tube, while the residue fuses, and becomes reduced to the

unalterable subsulphide B4S, sulphureted hydrogen passing away in the
stream of gas.

Two selenides of boron, B2Se3 and B4Se, corresponding to the above
described sulphides, have also been prepared by M. Sabatier, by heating
amorphous boron in a stream of hydrogen selenide, H2Se. The triselenide is
less volatile than the trisulphide, and is pale green in color. It is
energetically decomposed by water, with formation of boric acid and
liberation of hydrogen selenide. The liquid rapidly deposits free selenium,
owing to the oxidation of the hydrogen selenide retained in solution. Light
appears to decompose the triselenide into free selenium and the subselenide
B4Se.

Silicon selenide, SiSe3, has likewise been obtained by M. Sabatier by
heating crystalline silicon to redness in a current of hydrogen selenide. It
presents the appearance of a fused hard metallic mass incapable of
volatilization. Water reacts most vigorously with it, producing silicic acid,
and liberating hydrogen selenide. Potash decomposes it with formation of a
clear solution, the silica being liberated in a form in which it is readily
dissolved by alkalies. Silicon selenide emits a very irritating odor, due to
the hydrogen selenide which is formed by its reaction with the moisture of
the atmosphere. When heated to redness in the air it becomes converted into
silicon dioxide and free selenium.

NATURAL SULPHIDE OF GOLD.
By T.W.T. ATHERTON.

The existence of gold in the form of a natural sulphide in conjunction with
pyrites has often been advanced theoretically as a possible occurrence, but
up to the present time this occurrence has, I believe, never been established
as an actual fact.

During my investigations on the ore of the Deep Creek Mines, I have found
in them what I believe to be gold existing as a natural sulphide. The
description of this ore will, no doubt, be of interest to your readers.

The lode is a large irregular one of pure arsenical pyrites, existing in a
felsite dike near the sea coast. Surrounding it on all sides are micaceous
schists, and in the neighborhood is a large hill of granite about 800 ft. high.
In the lode and the rock immediately adjoining it are large quantities of
pyrophylite, and in some places of the mine are deposits of this pure white,
translucent mineral, but in the ore itself it is a yellow and pale olive green
color, and is never absent from the pyrites.

From the first I was much struck with the exceedingly fine state of division
in which the gold existed in the ore. After roasting and very carefully
grinding down in an agate mortar, I have never been able to get any pieces
of gold exceeding the one-thousandth of an inch in diameter, and the greater
quantity is very much finer than this. Careful dissolving of the pyrites and
gangue, so as to leave the gold intact, failed to find it in any larger diameter.
As this was a very unusual experience in investigations on many other
kinds of pyrites, I was led further into the matter. Ultimately, after a number
of experiments, there was nothing left but to test for gold as a sulphide.

Taking 200 grammes of pyrites from a sample assaying 17 ounces fine gold
per ton, grinding it finely, and; heating for some hours with a solution of
sodium sulphide (Na2S2), on decomposing the filtrate and treating it for

gold I got a result at the rate of 12 ounces gold per ton. This was repeated
several times with the same result.

This sample came from the lode at the 140 ft. level, while samples from the
higher levels where the ore is more oxidized, although carrying the gold in
the same degree of fineness, do not give as high a percentage of auric
sulphide.

It would appear that all the gold in the pyrites (and I have never found any
apart from it) has originally taken its place there as a sulphide.

The sulphide is an analysis of a general sample of the ore:

Silica 13.940 p.c.
Alumina 6.592 "
Lime 0.9025 "
Sulphur 16.584 "
Arsenic 33.267 "
Iron 27.720 "
Cobalt 0.964 "
Per Ton.
Nickel Traces.
Gold 5 ozs. 3 dwts. 8 grs.
Silver 0 ozs. 16 dwts. 0 grs.
———
99.969

Nambucca Head's Gold Mining Company, Deep Creek, N.S. Wales, Oct. 9,
1891.—Chemical News.

SOME MEANS OF PURIFYING WATER.
There are several methods extant for the purpose of purifying and softening
water, and in the following brief account some of the chief features of these
methods are summarized. The Slack and Brownlow apparatus we will deal
with first. This purifier is one which is intended to remove the matter in
suspension in the water to be treated by subsidence and not by filtration.
The apparatus consists of a vertical iron tank or cylinder, inside which are a
series of plates arranged in a spiral direction around a fixed center, and
sloping at an angle of 45° on both sides outward. The water to be dealt with
flows through a large inlet tube fixed to the bottom of the cylinder, rises to
the top by passing spirally round the whole circumference, and depositing
on the plates or shelves all solids and impurities at the outer edges of the
plates. Mud cocks are placed to remove the solids deposited during the flow
of the water upward to the outlet pipe, placed close to the top of the
cylinder. One of these tanks, a square one, is at work purifying the Medlock
water at Manchester, and on drawing samples of water from nearly every
plate, that from the lower mud cock showed considerable deposit, which
decreased in bulk until the top mud cock was reached, when the water was
quite free from deposit. It is stated that one man would be sufficient to
attend to 20 of these purifiers.

To filter or purify 2,000,000 gallons per 24 hours would require 40 tanks,
10 ft. by 7 ft. diameter, each doing 2,000 gallons per hour, and would cost,
with their fittings, £6,400, including all patent rights, but exclusive of lime
mixing tanks, agitators, lime water and softening tanks, engine and boiler,
and suitable buildings, the cost of which would not be far short of £5,000,
or a total of £11,400 to soften 2,000,000 gallons per 24 hours. The labor and
other working expenses in connection with this plant would not be less than
that necessary to work the Porter-Clark process, which is given as O.55d.
per 1,000 gallons.

The Brock and Minton filter press system is another method. This patent
press is made of steel, perforated with ½ inch holes. On the inside of the
shell there is first laid a layer of fine wire netting, then a layer of cloth, and

lastly another layer of wire netting of a larger mesh than the other. The
matter treated is pumped into the body of the cylinder, the liquid passing
through the filtering material to the outside, the solids being retained inside,
and are got rid of by partially revolving the upper half to relieve it from the
knuckle joint, and, after being raised, the lower half is turned over by
machinery, and the solid matter is simply allowed to fall out into wagons or
trucks run underneath for that purpose. Such, in brief, is the manner of
using this filter press for chemical works' purposes. The cost of each filter
press, including royalties, is from £250 to £300, the size being 8 ft. by 4 ft.
diameter. Having a filtering area of 100 square feet, it would require 32 of
these applied to softening water to effectually deal with 2,000,000 gallons
per 24 hours; this, at the lowest estimate for filters alone, would be £8,000,
and, using the same figures, £5,000 for lime mixing tanks, etc., as referred
to in the "Slack and Brownlow" purifier, would bring the total cost up to
£13,000, and the working expense would not be less than that required to
work the Porter-Clark process, and would probably be very much greater.
This filter press is not in use anywhere for dealing with large quantities of
water in connection with a town water supply.

A process which has been working for a long time at Southampton is the
Atkins system, which also includes the use of filter presses. The pumping
station and softening works are situated at Otterbourne, eight miles from
Southampton, and were built together as one scheme. The mixing room has
two slaking lime tanks, with agitators driven by steam power. The mixture
is then run as cream of lime into a tank 20 ft. square and is then pumped
into the lower ends of two lime water producing cylinders. The agitation is
here obtained by pressure from a small cistern placed above them with a 12
ft. head, the pipe from which is attached to the lower ends of the cylinders.
This has been found by experiment to be the most satisfactory means of
obtaining the proper degree of agitation necessary; the clear lime water is
then drawn off at the top of the cylinders, and flows by gravity into a mixer,
where it comes in contact with the hard water. Both flow together into a
distributing trough, from which it overflows into a small softening
reservoir, having a capacity of one hour's supply, a weir being placed along
the lower end, over which the water flows to 13 filter presses. The clear
water from the filters is then conveyed to a small well, from which the

permanent engines raise it to the first of a series of high level covered
service reservoirs.

In the filter press there are 20 hollow disks representing a filtering area of
250 square feet, or a total of 3,250 square feet. The water to be filtered
passes into the body of the filter and then through a filtering medium of
cloth laid on a thin perforated zinc plate, into the inner side of the disks,
from whence it is conveyed through the hollow shaft, to which the disks are
attached, to the high level pumps.

The filter cloths are cleaned three times every 24 hours, without removal,
by jets of softened water from the main, having a pressure of 60 pounds to
the square inch. During cleaning operations the disks are made to revolve
slowly; this only occupies a space of five minutes for each cleaning. The
cloths last from six to eight months without being renewed. They also
occasionally use for further cleaning the cloths a jet of steam injected upon
the center of the disks in order to remove by partial boiling the insoluble
particles engrained in the cloths. This has been found to make the cloths last
longer. This cloth is obtained from Porritt Bros. and Austen, Stubbing Vale,
Ramsbottom, and costs 13½d. per lineal yard of a width to suit the disks.

The quantity softened is 2¼ million gallons per 24 hours, but the present
plant can deal with 2½ million gallons, and the buildings are erected for 3½
million gallons, additional filters and lime producing tanks being only
required to deal with the increased quantity. The costs of the softening
works was £10,394, of which £7,844 was for the softening machinery and
plant and £2,550 for the reservoir, buildings, etc.

The working expenses, including lime, labor, cloths, general repairs, and
steam, is stated to be 0.225d. per 1,000 gallons, the labor required being
only two men, one on the day and the other on the night shift, with an
occasional man to assist.

The hardness of the Southampton water on Clark's scale is 18° of total
hardness, and this is reduced down to 6° or 8° by this process.—Chem. Tr.
Jour.

A NEW LABORATORY PROCESS FOR
PREPARING HYDROBROMIC ACID.
By G.S. NEWTH.

This method is a synthetical one, and consists in passing a stream of
hydrogen and bromine vapor over a spiral of platinum wire heated to bright
redness by means of an electric current. A glass tube, about 7 inches long
and 5/8 of an inch bore, is fitted at each end with a cork carrying a short
straight piece of small tube; through each cork is also fixed a stout wire, and
these two wires are joined by means of a short spiral of platinum wire, the
spiral being about 1 inch long. One end of this apparatus is connected to a
small wash bottle containing bromine, through which a stream of hydrogen
can be bubbled. The other end is attached to a tube dipping into a vessel of
water for the absorption of the gas, or, if a large quantity of the solution is
required, to a series of Woulf's bottles containing water. Hydrogen is first
slowly passed through the tube until the air is displaced, when the platinum
spiral is heated to bright redness by the passage of a suitable electric
current. Complete combination takes place in contact with the hot wire, and
the color imparted to the ingoing gases by the bromine vapor is entirely
removed, and the contents of the tube beyond the platinum are perfectly
colorless. The vessel containing the bromine may be heated to a
temperature of about 60° C. in a water bath, at which temperature the
hydrogen will be mixed with nearly the requisite amount of bromine to
combine with the whole of it. So long as even a slight excess of hydrogen is
passing, which is readily seen by the escape of bubbles through the water in
the absorbing vessels, the issuing hydrobromic acid will remain perfectly
colorless, and therefore free from bromine; so that it is not necessary to
adopt any of the usual methods for scrubbing the gas through vessels
containing phosphorus. When the operation is proceeding very rapidly a
lambent flame occasionally appears in the tube just before the platinum
wire, but this flame is never propagated back through the narrow tube into
the bromine bottle. The precaution may be taken, however, of plugging this
narrow tube with a little glass wool, which renders any inconvenience from

this cause quite impossible. By this method a large quantity of bromine may
be rapidly converted into hydrobromic acid without any loss of bromine,
and the operation when once started can be allowed to proceed without any
further attention.—Chemical News.

SAPOTIN: A NEW GLUCOSIDE.
By GUSTAVE MICHAUD.

Achras Sapota, L., is a large tree scattered through the forests of Central
America and the West Indies; its fruit is often seen upon the Creole dinner
table. This fruit is a berry, the size of an orange, the taste of which suggests
the flavor of melon, as well as that of hydrocyanic acid. The fruit contains
one or two seeds like large chestnuts, which, if broken, let fall a white
almond. This last contains the glucoside which I call sapotin.

I obtained sapotin for the first time by heating dry raspings of the almond
with 90 per cent. alcohol. While cooling, the filtered liquid deposited a
good deal of the compound. Since that time I have advantageously modified
the process and increased the amount of product. I prepare sapotin in the
following way: The almonds are rasped, dried at 100° C. and washed with
benzene, which takes away an enormous quantity of fatty matter. The
benzene which remains in the almond is driven put first by compression,
afterward by heating. Then the raspings are exhausted with boiling 90 per
cent. alcohol. The solution is filtered as rapidly as possible, in order to
avoid its cooling and depositing the sapotin in the filter. As soon as the
temperature of the filtered liquid begins to fall, a voluminous precipitate is
seen to form, which is the sapotin.

In order to purify it, the precipitate is collected in a filter and expressed
between sheets of filter paper. When dry it is washed with ether, which
takes away the last particles of fatty and resinous matter. The purification is
completed by two crystallizations from 90 per cent. alcohol. At last the
substance is dried at 100°.

The sapotin separates from its alcohol solution in the form of microscopic
crystals. When dry, it is a white, inodorous powder. Its taste is extremely
acrid and burning. If the powder penetrate into the nostrils or the eyes, it
produces a persistent burning sensation which brings about sneezing and
flow of tears. It melts at 240° C., growing brown at the same time.

It has a laevo-rotatory power of [a]j = -32.11, which was determined with
an alcoholic solution, the aqueous solution not being sufficiently
transparent.

It is very soluble in water, easily soluble in boiling alcohol, much less in
cold alcohol, and insoluble in ether, chloroform and benzene. Its alcoholic
solution is precipitated by ether.

Tannin has no action on it, but basic acetate of lead produces a gelatinous
precipitate in its aqueous solution. Strange enough, this precipitate is
entirely soluble in a small excess of basic acetate of lead. If thrown into
concentrated sulphuric acid, sapotin colors it with a garnet red tint. It does
not reduce Fehling's solution. Its analysis gave the following results:

Calculated for Found.
C29H52O20. I. II.
C 48.33 48.69 48.31
H 7.23 7.33 7.45

When heated with water and a little sulphuric acid, sapotin is decomposed
and yields glucose and an insoluble matter which I call sapotiretin. One
hundred parts of sapotin produce 51.58 parts of glucose and 49.67 of
sapotiretin. The equation which represents this reaction is:

C29H52O20 + 2H2O = 2C6H12O6 + C17H32O10

and requires 50 per cent. of glucose and 55 per cent. of sapotiretin.

Sapotiretin is an amorphous compound, insoluble in water, very soluble in
alcohol, less soluble in chloroform, insoluble in ether. Below is the result of
its analysis:

Calculated for Found.
C17H32O10. I. II.
C 51.52 51.51 51.20
H 8.08 8.19 8.34

—Amer. Chem. Jour.

DETECTION OF PEANUT OIL IN OLIVE OIL.
Holde, after a careful trial of the various processes for detecting the above
adulteration, gives the preference to Renard's, which he describes as
follows:

Ten grms. of the suspected oil, after being saponified, and the fatty acids
separated by hydrochloric acid, are dissolved in 90 per cent. alcohol, and
precipitated by sugar of lead. The oleate of lead is separated by ether, and
the residuum, consisting of palmitic and arachic acids, is decomposed by
hydrochloric acid. The fatty acids are dissolved, with the aid of heat, in 50
c.c. of 90 per cent. alcohol. The arachic acid which separates after cooling
is filtered out and washed, first with 90 per cent. and afterward with 70 per
cent. alcohol. It is then dissolved in hot alcohol, and the solution evaporated
in a weighed saucer. The weight of the residuum, after taking into account
the acid dissolved in the alcohol, equals the whole amount of arachic acid
contained in the oil; the melting point of this residuum should be 70° to 71°
C. With this process the author has always been successful; but when the
olive oil contains not more than 5 to 10 per cent. of peanut oil, it is
necessary to make the test with 40 grms. of the former, otherwise the
melting point of the arachic acid cannot be estimated. Furthermore, the
acids which are separated from the lead salt by hydrochloric acid must be
recrystallized repeatedly with 90 per cent. alcohol, until the melting point
ceases to rise, in case the latter is not found to exceed 70° C. at the first
estimation. When peanut oil is present, the melting point will always be
above 70°.—Chem. Zeit.

HYDROXYLAMINE.
Free hydroxylamine, NH2OH, has been isolated by M. Lobry de Bruyn, and
a preliminary account of its mode of preparation and properties is published
by him in the current number of the Recueil des travaux chimiques des
Pays-Bas (1891, 10, 101). The manner in which the free base was obtained
was briefly as follows. About a hundred grammes of hydroxylamine
hydrochloride, NH2OH.HCl, were dissolved in six hundred cubic
centimeters of warm methyl alcohol. To this solution a quantity of sodium
dissolved in methyl alcohol was added, in such proportion that the
hydrochloride of hydroxylamine was present in slight excess over and
above that required to convert it to sodium chloride. After deposition of the
separated sodium chloride the solution was decanted and filtered.

The greater portion of the methyl alcohol was next removed by distillation
under the reduced pressure of 160-200 mm. The remainder was then treated
with anhydrous ether, in order to completely precipitate the last traces of
dissolved sodium chloride. The liquid eventually separated into two layers,
an upper ethereal layer containing about 5 per cent. of hydroxylamine, and
a lower layer containing over 50 per cent. of hydroxylamine, the remainder
of the methyl alcohol, and a little dissolved salt. By subjecting this lower
layer to fractional distillation under 60 mm. pressure, it was separated into
three fractions, of which the first contained 27 per cent. of hydroxylamine,
the second 60 per cent., and the third crystallized in the ice-cooled receiver
in long needles. This third fraction consisted of free solid NH2OH.
Hydroxylamine as thus isolated in the free state is a very hygroscopic
substance, which rapidly liquefies when exposed to air, owing to the
absorption of water.

The crystals melt at 33°, and the fused substance appears to possess the
capability of readily dissolving metallic salts. Sodium chloride is very
largely soluble in the liquid; powdered niter melts at once in contact with it,
and the two liquids then mix. Free hydroxylamine is without odor. It is
heavier than water. When rapidly heated upon platinum foil it suddenly

decomposes in a most violent manner, with production of a large sheet of
bright yellow flame. It is only very slightly soluble in liquid carbon
compounds, such as chloroform, benzene, ether, acetic ether, and carbon
bisulphide. The vapor attacks corks, so that the solid requires to be
preserved in glass-stoppered bottles. The free base appears also to act upon
cellulose, for, upon placing a few drops of the melted substance upon filter
paper, a considerable amount of heat is evolved. The pure crystals are very
stable, the base in the free state appearing to possess much greater stability
than when dissolved in water. The instability of the solution appears,
however, to be influenced to a considerable extent by the alkalinity of the
glass of the containing vessel, for concentrated solutions free from
dissolved alkali are found to be perfectly stable. Bromine and iodine react
in a remarkable manner with free hydroxylamine.

Crystals of iodine dissolve instantly in contact with it, with evolution of a
gas and considerable rise of temperature. Bromine reacts with violence, a
gas again being explosively evolved and hydrobromic acid formed. The
nature of the gas evolved is now undergoing investigation. A letter from M.
Lobry de Bruyn appears in the number of the Chemiker Zeitung for October
31, warning those who may attempt to prepare free hydroxylamine by the
above method that it is a dangerously explosive substance when warmed to
a temperature of 80°-100°. Upon warming a flask containing the free solid
base upon a water bath a most violent explosion occurs. A spontaneous
decomposition appears to set in about 80°, and even in open vessels the
explosion is very violent. Care must also be taken during the fractional
distillation of the concentrated solution in methyl alcohol to cool the
apparatus before changing the receiver, as if air is admitted while the retort
is heated the experiment ends with an explosion.—Nature.

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