Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 696

The strong pugnacity developed among birds at time of hatching is remarkable. Even the little gentle grosbeak will endeavour, by violent pecking, to drive away males of the same or closely related species from the neighbourhood of his loved one. The larger finches are often roused by the same zeal to a blind fury, which, in the case of the chaffinch, is frequently taken advantage of by the bird-catchers. The fights observed in nature between birds have most generally for their cause the emotions of love.

We come to another expression of affection in bird-life – namely, song. It is to a great extent of a purely emulative character, and not seldom is the contention so strong and persistent, that one of the two rivals, through over-exertion, falls lifeless to the ground. One may observe such rivalry in spring, in the woods and fields, between two neighbouring male finches, nightingales, and various other birds. And in the aviary it is to be observed not only among the excellent singers, such as the gray finches and red cardinals, but also in the comparatively silent grosbeaks.

But the singing of birds has of course also another aspect – it is the most potent means of wooing. And this is true not only as regards the sweet plaint of the nightingale, the melodious warbling of the finch, but also of the hoarse croaking of the crows, the ear-splitting screech of the jay, the murmur of the pigeons, and the like – doubtless the most bewitching tones they are able to produce. 'Hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings;' so says Shakspeare. And for what does the lark ascend and trill his cheerful lay in mid-air, but to sing in a spirit of kindness to his mate nestling on the ground within hearing of his notes; or as a versifier has pictured this delicate attention:

The lark on high now mounts the sky,
All hear his pipe a-ringing;
His mate on nest whom he loves best,
Sits listening to his singing.

It can hardly be doubted that the response awakened in the heart of female birds in these circumstances is quite as genuinely tender as the notes addressed to them. The very birds of the air might teach a lesson to man – to the wretches who, in the bosom of civilisation, kick wives to death, and leave their children to die under the accumulated miseries of want and desolation!

THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS.

SCIENCE AND ARTS

At the meeting of the Iron and Steel Institute last month, Mr C. W. Siemens, F.R.S., was elected President: to the honour of the Institute, be it recorded. In his inaugural address he discussed a question on which he has bestowed much thought, namely fuel. The coal-fields of the globe, so far as at present known, comprise two hundred and seventy thousand square miles, one hundred and ninety-two thousand of which are in the United States, eighteen thousand in Nova Scotia, and eleven thousand nine hundred in Great Britain. Mr Siemens is of opinion that at our present rate of consumption, we have in this country coal enough to last eleven hundred years; and that if the consumption should tend to increase, it will be kept in check by the economical processes of heating that remain to be discovered. And in many parts of the world there are underground stores of gas that can be made available as fuel, as exemplified by the seventy furnaces at Pittsburgh, which do all their puddling and reheating by means of the gas flowing through eighteen miles of pipe from its source in Pennsylvania.

As an example of the saving that can be effected by mere mechanical contrivance, we take a new ship of the Inman line trading between Liverpool and New York, in which the old style of engine has given place to the 'modern double cylinder compound engines,' which leave a much larger space for cargo than the old engines, and burn about sixty-five tons of coal per day, instead of one hundred and fifteen tons. The saving in the article of fuel is thus seen to be very great, even for a single ship.

Of course iron and steel were prominent topics of discussion at the meeting, and the conclusion to be drawn therefrom is, that in ship-building and other mechanical operations steel will take the place of iron. The torpedo vessel Lightning, which steams nineteen knots an hour, is already an evidence of what can be done by the combined lightness and strength of steel; another is promised by Admiral Sartorius, which will cleave the water at the rate of twenty-four knots, and steel ships of large size are building and to be built for the government. In this way the peaceful arts become diverted to warlike purposes, and heighten the cost of war to a prodigious extent.

The future of steel, said Mr Bramwell, F.R.S., in his lecture at the Royal Institution, is to supersede iron for almost everything except the forge-work of common blacksmiths; and further, that part of the province of cast-iron, such as toothed-wheels and castings of complex form, which now, thanks to Riepe's improved construction of moulds, can be produced from molten steel.

Mr Siemens' process for the manufacture of steel leaves nothing to chance. The quality of steel is always that which was foreseen and desired; and the samples, when submitted to the severe tests imposed by the Admiralty, are never found to fail.

But Professor Barff's discovery seems to shew that iron will not be easily superseded. If iron can be produced that will not under any circumstances get rusty, iron will become more useful than ever. The discovery is this: that if hot iron is placed in a chamber of superheated steam, it takes on a black coat which is magnetic oxide, and this coat is so hard and impervious to atmospheric influences that rust will not form upon it. The hotter the steam in which the process is carried on, the harder is the coat: after an exposure of seven hours to twelve hundred degrees, it will resist a file. Consequently the strength of the iron is greatly increased, and it can never become weakened by rust. The importance of this fact can hardly be overrated in connection, for instance, with iron plates for boilers and ships, in which unlimited strength would be highly prized.

We are told that the protecting coat can be put on at small cost, and that it will probably be made use of for iron goods of every description. 'Copper vessels will no longer possess any advantages for cooking, and iron saucepans will no longer need to be tinned. Lead pipes for the conveyance of water will in all probability be entirely superseded; and there can be no doubt that new uses for incorrodible iron will every day suggest themselves. Messrs Penn of Greenwich are about to undertake a series of trials for the purpose of testing the strength of the prepared articles, so that they may become able to speak with authority upon the fitness of the protected iron for bridge girders and architectural purposes.'

How to make iron without producing slag is a question which, if any one can answer satisfactorily, his reward shall be great in fame and fortune. In Yorkshire alone, the blast-furnaces pour out more than four million tons of slag a year, from which fact the enormous quantity produced throughout the kingdom can be judged of. Sixteen million tons of refuse! What can be done with it? In some places, land has been bought or hired to provide space for the ugly heaps, and many attempts have been made to lessen the accumulation by finding uses for the slag. It has been made into blocks and bricks for paving; into slabs, pipes, brackets, and friezes; into cement; into sand for fertilising purposes; and while in the molten condition, has been blown into a substance resembling cotton-wool. But some of these attempts have failed, and not one has sufficed to diminish the heaps of slag. And now another suggestion, based on the fact that slag is vitreous, is put forth, namely to convert it into glass. A mixture of sand, soda, and slag melted in a furnace will come out as glass. The experiment would not be expensive, for slag in any quantity may be had for nothing.

If some of those ingenious individuals who write so frequently to the Admiralty or to the Royal Society announcing that they have discovered the true place of the axis of the earth, or the true explanation of the precession of the equinoxes, or the cause of compass deviation, would only turn their attention to the questions in the foregoing paragraph, they might perhaps make practical discoveries which would be capable of proof, and potential of profit. Last session a paper on the Best Method of Propelling Steamships was read at the United Service Institution. In the discussion that followed, Admiral Selwyn said experiment had shewn that whether you divide the water by a very narrow fine bow, cleaving the fluid like an axe, or whether you put that narrow fine bow flat on the water, and drive it over the water, the resistance is for all practical purposes the same: having fine lines there is no more resistance in the one case than in the other. Experiment has shewn also that between the finest vessel of deep draught and a vessel of similar tonnage, built in the form of a segment of a sphere, there is no difference of resistance. 'But there is this remarkable difference in another way, that whereas the sharp deep-keeled vessel plunges constantly under water, and makes bad weather of it, the segment of the sphere always rides over the water with perfect ease.'

And at the meeting of Naval Architects, Mr Reed explained that a circular ironclad will float better and carry heavier weights than a ship of the ordinary shape, and yet not be deficient in speed.

At last a parliamentary committee has been appointed to collect evidence on the condition of the Thames and other rivers, on the best means of regulating them, and of economising the rainfall so that there shall be a sufficient supply of water at all seasons. This is a great question: human requirements confronting the forces of nature with a view to harmonious co-operation. According to a statement made at a meeting of the Institution of Civil Engineers, the quantity of water that flows daily over Teddington weir is 3,223,125 tons; hence the Thames will count for something in the inquiry. Besides which, we may remember that the commerce carried by the royal river amounts to nine million tons annually.

At a recent meeting of the Franklin Institute, Philadelphia, there were exhibited an Odontograph for laying out the teeth of gear-wheels; an exhaust nozzle for quieting the noise of safety-valves and escape-pipes; an aspirator for ventilating mill-stones, and a horse-shoe intended to prevent slipping on a smoothly paved road. Readers desirous of further particulars must write to Philadelphia; but if that 'quieting nozzle' can only be made available, passengers at railway stations and on board steamboats will be spared the deafening roar that now annoys them, and will feel grateful accordingly.

The last published volume of Transactions of the Royal Society of Victoria contains a paper entitled, 'Is the Eucalyptus a Fever-destroying Tree?' a question which, as our readers are aware, is not less interesting here in Europe than in Australia. Baron von Mueller, government botanist at Melbourne, has described more than one hundred and thirty species of Eucalyptus: some grow into forests of great extent both on high and low table-land, others form dense desert scrub, while others are so distributed as to impart a park-like appearance to the landscape. The leaves are evergreen, and so arranged that the light and heat of the sun fall equally on each side; and the roots are dispersive and drain water largely from the soil. Besides the general constituents of a ligneous vegetation, the Eucalyptus contains a gum-resin, a volatile acid, and a peculiar volatile oil. The finest forests, Eucalyptus amygdalina, extend inland about one hundred miles, beyond which the scrub species prevail. When by vicissitude of season the seaward species are poor in volatile oil, then the scrub is rich, and vice versâ. The extent of scrub and forest in the three colonies of New South Wales, Victoria, and South Australia is so great that the quantity of oil therein contained is estimated at 96,877,440,000 gallons. On this Mr Bosisto, the author of the paper above referred to, remarks: 'Considering that the same condition exists throughout the major part of Australia … we cannot arrive at any other conclusion than that the whole atmosphere of Australia is more or less affected by the perpetual exhalation of those volatile bodies.' The aroma thereof would be disagreeable, were it not that 'volatile oils have the power of changing oxygen into ozone while they are slowly oxidising.' It can hardly be doubted that the influence on climate must be important. 'Let,' says Mr Bosisto, 'a small quantity of any of the eucalyptus oils, but especially the oil of Eucalyptus amygdalina, be distributed sparingly in a sick-chamber, or over any unpleasant substance, or add a small quantity to stagnant water, and the pleasure of breathing an improved air will immediately be manifest. The application of this to the climate of Australia has great force, for it is acknowledged that we possess about us, both in bush and town, a large amount of active oxygen, made frequently doubly so by our vigorous vegetation.'

The conclusion from the whole series of facts is, that the Eucalyptus is a fever-destroying tree. Baron von Mueller states that the Eucalyptus amygdalina in favourable situations grows to a height of four hundred feet, that it yields more oil than any other species, and bears the climate of Europe. The species of quickest growth is the Eucalyptus globulus.

In a communication to the Royal Astronomical Society, Mr W. M. Williams points out that obscure heat, such as that radiated from sun-spots, is much more largely absorbed by our atmosphere than the heat from the luminous parts of the sun's surface. Consequently the obscure heat exerts an influence on terrestrial climate as well as the luminous heat: the former in preventing or modifying the formation of clouds in the upper regions, and in producing thereby meteorological results which would be an interesting study. An illustration of what is meant by this is afforded by a well-known phenomenon, namely the general clearness of the sky during full moon, the clouds having been dissipated by the obscure heat-rays reflected from the moon's surface.

If observations of the difference of absorption between the two kinds of heat could be made at different heights, we should have, as Mr Williams says, 'a new means of studying the constitution of the interior of the sun and its relations to the photosphere. Direct evidence of selective absorption by our atmosphere may thus be obtained, which would go far towards solving one of the crucial solar problems – whether the darker regions are hotter or cooler than the photosphere?'

St Bartholomew's Hospital Reports contain an article by Dr Hollis in which an attempt is made to clear the study of mental physics of some of its obscurity, and to shew what are the functions of the brain and the way in which they may be studied. Examples are given of the effects of disease: a letter-sorter in the Post-office had experienced a failure of memory during two years, could not continue his employment, and eventually died. A large tumour was found in the substance of the left temporal lobe of the brain, which probably accounted for the loss of memory and inability to retain a mental picture of the pigeon-holes into which the letters were to be sorted. The organs of the brain were there, but their proper action was disturbed by the growth of disease, and the man of necessity ceased to be a letter-sorter. In concluding his article, Dr Hollis warns 'students of this seductive branch of medical science not to attempt to localise in the cortex too closely the several faculties of the mind. It is preposterous,' he remarks, 'to expect that similar cells are reserved for similar functions in all human brains, knowing what we do of the great diversity in man's mental nature, his various occupations, proclivities, and talents. Beyond the fact that there exists in our brains a posterior or retentive system, and an anterior or expressive system, our knowledge of this organ will not at present permit us to go.'

The effect of ether and of chloroform as anæsthetics, is attracting considerable attention. It is alleged that with chloroform, vascular paralysis frequently precedes respiratory paralysis; and an amount of chloroform insufficient to cause paralysis of respiration will often produce vascular paralysis, accompanied by such a diminution of blood-pressure as to render artificial respiration useless, since interchange between the gases of the air and blood does not take place. In this case artificial respiration does not recall life, and respiration ceases when artificial aid is removed. Experiments made with nitrite of amyl demonstrate its value as an antidote to the dangerous effects of chloroform; for which reason an American physician remarks: 'In the light of our present knowledge, it seems to me that humanity and science alike require that, when chloroform is used as an anæsthetic, the nitrite of amyl should be at hand, as one of the remedies whose efficiency is to be tested in case of impending danger.' Medical practitioners in Calcutta have had their attention called to a species of parasite before undescribed, which has been found in large numbers in the intestines of persons who have died of cholera. According to a description recently published in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, it is the Amphistoma hominis. 'I have never seen such parasites,' writes Dr Simpson, 'and apparently they are unknown to the natives. They are of a red colour, size of a tadpole, adhering to the mucous membrane, by a circular open mouth which they have the power of dilating and contracting.' It is to be hoped that these somewhat mysterious tormentors will not make their appearance in Europe. By way of precaution, we would just hint, 'See that you drink pure water.'

Of petroleum furnaces of a small size suited for high temperatures we find Quichenot's (lately noticed in these columns) is not the first attempt made, one having been introduced some years ago by Griffin, an English manufacturer. The difficulty with all petroleum furnaces is to keep them lighted until the casing or crucible is sufficiently hot to do this itself. The special liability which petroleum furnaces have to blow out at first, is to a great extent if not entirely overcome in Griffin's by the use of a wick. We are told by those who are practically conversant with the subject, that there are many difficulties in the use of petroleum as a fuel for furnace-work on a small scale, which, however, may be in a measure overcome by skilful management. But for small furnace operations it is now generally admitted that there is no fuel so well adapted as gas. A gas furnace of an entirely novel construction was introduced about a year ago by Mr Fletcher, F.C.S., of Warrington, in which the gas is burnt by an arrangement similar to Giffard's Injector, and requiring no more air than an ordinary small foot blower will supply with ease. The whole arrangement is exceedingly simple; and a refractory clay crucible can be fused in less than half an hour by an apparatus which (blower included) can easily be carried in one hand. Of gas furnaces not requiring a blast, the pioneer was Gore, who made the first draft furnace, burning gas, which would fuse cast-iron; and the principle made use of by Gore – that is, the subdivision of a large flame by air-spaces – has been since made use of successfully in many forms by different makers; but the maximum temperatures obtained in Gore's furnace have never yet been exceeded by any maker without the use of a blast. The nearest approach to a draft furnace giving really intense heats is, so far as we can ascertain, the Injector furnace of Mr Fletcher, which requires only about one-fifth of the air consumed to be supplied by blowing, the remaining part of the air being drawn in from the surrounding atmosphere by the action of the furnace itself.

MORE MISSING ARTICLES

A large party of merry people, old and young, were sitting on the sands at Cromer one day, when one of the party, the youngest and brightest, began for fun to 'make faces' with her fingers, and shewing the rest how to copy her. The way in which she used her fingers and handkerchief produced the most grotesque effects imaginable. Our heroine, Mrs Reynolds, a young matron of the party, followed suit, and soon succeeded; but, said Minnie the original starter of the fun: 'Take off your rings; they spoil the effect.' Accordingly two valuable rings – emerald and pearl – were slipped off and laid within an open parasol. Soon after the party began to move, Mrs Reynolds took up her parasol, thought no more of the rings, and passed on with the rest home. Not till she reached the house and, preparing for lunch, was about to wash her hands, did it suddenly flash upon her what she had done. Alas, alas! those precious rings were lost on the sands, already crowded with excursionists and bathers. Away flew Mrs Reynolds, her hair streaming behind her (hung out to dry after bathing), her heart panting, her head aching, down to the shore again. There was the bathing woman calmly pursuing her calling all unconscious of the trouble; there too was Captain Wardell, politely concerned; there the groups of cousins warmly sympathetic; but alas! no trace of the jewels lost. How should they ever be found in such an expanse of sand? – no trace even left of the spot where the friends had sat. Still, resolved not to be baffled (the rings were not only precious but full of associative value), a place was fixed upon by Mrs Reynolds, and the hunt began. The sand, loose and fine, was turned over and over and sifted inch by inch, and the hapless owner was at length compelled to abandon the search and return home. Her weary feet had hardly turned in at the threshold when a panting voice behind caused her to turn. There stood a kindly cousin, scarlet with excitement and running, almost unable to speak, but holding up the emerald ring found by Captain Wardell's little son Gordon, a child of five years of age. As a last hope, his father had said to him: 'Come, Gordon, feel for it too in the loose sand;' and as if by magic, the child thrust in his little fat hand and pulled out the ring!

Of course this shewed they were on the right scent; and in three-quarters of an hour more the pearl ring also turned up. They had hunted in all for nearly two hours, in perfectly loose sand, on a wide shore; and as a fisherman said, it was indeed like 'hunting for a needle in a haystack.' The excitement throughout the little town of Cromer had been immense, owing to the crier having been sent round; and all the evening the story was being discussed by little groups of men and women, no doubt growing in interest by the repetition.

Another curious instance of losing and finding is worth recording. A gentleman walking along the shore of Hastings lost his ring. We think he was stretching after a dog in the water, but at anyrate the ring slipped off, and was not found again. A year after – it is even said on the very anniversary – the same gentleman was again strolling along the shore when a fisherman ran after him, and inquiring, 'Did you drop this, sir?' held up to him his own ring, lost twelve months before.

One more incident. A gentleman bought an umbrella, and taking it into his hand, put down a sovereign in payment. Presently the bill, having been made out, was presented; but when the shopman put his hand forth to take up the money, it could not be seen. The gentleman thought it extraordinary – the shopman equally so. The former was sure he had deposited the coin, the shopman equally certain that it had not reached his hands. What was to be done? It ended in the gentleman again paying the amount. Some little time after, the gentleman was again in the shop, and being there, took occasion to ask if the sovereign had ever been seen again. 'No,' said the young man; 'we never found it.' Just then the gentleman, opening his umbrella to shew what he required altered (some trifle or other), gave it a shake, when out rolled a sovereign; the very one of course so long missing. The strangest part of it is that the umbrella had been constantly used since the day it was bought.