Chapter II: Part 2

‘I can’t say we do much in frogs’ legs,’ he said; ‘but there are lots of things adulterated with potato. Flour and arrowroot, and butter, and cocoa, and—and—a heap of things. And the potato’s just as likely to be diseased as not. It _may_ be, anyhow, and there you are! If you don’t know what diseased potato looks like, you’re done.’

‘A pleasant lookout,’ I replied, ‘if half-a-dozen of the commonest articles of food are habitually adulterated.’

‘Bless you, that’s nothing,’ he replied. ‘If _that_ was all, there wouldn’t be much harm done. There are a jolly sight worse adulterations than that. In fact, pretty nearly everything’s adulterated, and some of ’em with rank poisons.’

‘Rank poisons! That’s manslaughter!’

‘O no; it isn’t,’ he calmly rejoined. ‘Of course, they don’t put in enough to kill you right off. And if you find something disagreeing with you, you can’t swear what it is. It _may_ be the nux vomica in the beer; but it’s just as likely to be entozoa in the water, or copper in the last bottle of pickles. However, you’re all right _now_. With an analyst in the family, at anyrate you shan’t be poisoned without knowing it. _I_’ll let you know what you are eating and drinking.—This fellow’—and he patted the microscope affectionately—‘will tell you all about that.’

* * * * *

And it did. From that day forth I have never enjoyed a meal, and I never expect to do so again. I have always been particular to deal at respectable establishments, and to pay a fair price, in the hope of insuring a good article. I have, or had, a very tolerable appetite, and till that dreadful microscope came into the house, I used to get a good deal of enjoyment out of life. But now all is changed. My analyst began by undermining my faith in our baker. Now, if there was one of our tradesmen in whom, more than another, I had confidence, it was the baker, who supplied what seemed to me a good, solid, satisfying article, with no nonsense about it. But one day, shortly after the conversation I have recorded, my analyst remarked at breakfast-time: ‘We had a turn at bread yesterday at the laboratory—examined five samples; and found three of ’em adulterated. And do you know’—holding up a piece of our own bread and smelling it critically—‘I rather fancy this of ours is rather dicky.’

‘Nonsense!’ I cried. ‘It’s very good bread—capital bread!’

‘_You_ may think so,’ he continued calmly; ‘but you’re not an analyst. I shall take a sample of this to the laboratory, and you shall have my report upon it.’

‘Take it, by all means. But if you find anything wrong about that bread, I’ll eat my hat!’

‘Better not make rash promises. I’ll take a good big sample, and you shall have my report on it to-night.’

On his return home in the evening, he began: ‘I’ve been having a go-in at your bread. It’s not pure, of course; but there isn’t very much the matter with it. There’s a little potato, and a little rice, and a little alum; and with those additions, it takes up a good deal more water than it ought, so you don’t get your proper weight.’

‘Ahem!’ I said, ‘if that’s the case, we’ll change our baker. I’m not going to pay for a mixture of potatoes and water, and call it bread. But as for alum, that’s all nonsense. If they put _that_ in, we should taste it.’

‘O no; you wouldn’t. When alum is put in bread, it decomposes and forms sulphate of potash, an aperient salt. It disagrees with you, of course, but you don’t taste it. As for changing your baker, the next fellow you tried might be a jolly sight worse; _he_ might put in bone-dust, or plaster of Paris, or sulphate of copper. And besides, half the adulterations are in the flour already, before it reaches the baker. Of course, that doesn’t prevent his doing a little more on his own account.’

And with that the matter dropped, so far as the bread was concerned; but my confidence was rudely shaken.

A few days later, my analyst remarked: ‘I don’t think much of this milk;’ and he forthwith appropriated a sample for analytical purposes; but, happily, was compelled to own that it wasn’t quite so bad as he expected. It had more than its proper proportion of water; but that _might_ arise—he charitably suggested—from the cow being unwell. To make up the deficiency, it had been fortified with treacle and coloured with arnatto, but these my analyst appeared to regard as quite every-day falsifications.

‘It’s a rascally shame,’ I said. ‘If one can’t put faith in the milk-jug, it’s a bad lookout for the Blue Ribbon gentlemen. However, let us hope that the tea and coffee are all right.’

‘Not likely!’ he rejoined. ‘Nearly all tea is “faced,” as they call it, more or less, and the facing is itself an adulteration. As for coffee, you don’t expect to get _that_ pure, do you? It’s sure to be mixed with chicory, anyhow, and very probably with roasted acorns, beans, mahogany sawdust, or old tan. Baked horse-liver occasionally; but that’s an extreme case. If by any remote chance there wasn’t anything wrong in the original coffee, you get it in the chicory; and very often there are adulterations in both; so you get ’em twice over.’

‘If that’s the case, no more ground coffee for me. We’ll grind our own, and then we are sure to be safe.’

‘You mustn’t make too cocksure of that. Some years ago, an ingenious firm took out a patent for a machine to mould chicory into the shape of coffee-berries. Smart chaps those! And of course they can put anything they like into the chicory before they work it up.’

‘That’s pleasant, certainly. Then how is one to secure pure coffee?’

‘You can’t secure it, except by sending a sample to us, or some other shop of the same sort, to have it analysed; and if it’s wrong, prosecute your grocer for adulteration. After doing that a few times, he might find it didn’t pay, and give it up.’

‘And how much would that cost?’

‘Analysis of a sample of coffee, one guinea; analysis of butter, five guineas; analysis of milk, one guinea; analysis of tea, one guinea. Those are the regular charges for private analyses.’

‘Rather expensive, it seems.—And how much would it cost to prosecute?’

‘Ah, that I can’t tell you,’ said my analyst. ‘Another fiver, or more, I daresay.—But look at the satisfaction.’

I did look at it, but ultimately decided to give my grocer the benefit of the doubt, and cherish a fond hope that he was better than his fellows. The subject dropped. But a few days later, there chanced to be apple-pudding on the table. With the dish in question my analyst had always been in the habit of consuming brown sugar, and a good deal of it. Now, however, on the sugar-basin—best Demerara—being offered to him, he put on an expression as if he had been invited to partake of black draught.

‘Raw sugar! No, thank you.’

‘Hillo, what’s wrong with the sugar? Is that adulterated too?’

‘Very probably,’ he loftily replied. ‘But that’s a small matter. The genuine article is bad enough.’

‘Bad enough!’ indignantly interposed my analyst’s mamma. ‘That’s Mr Grittles’s very best moist—threepence-three-farthings a pound!’

‘I daresay it is. If it was fourpence, it wouldn’t make any difference.—Did you ever hear of the sugar-mite, _Acarus sacchari_’——

‘No; I can’t say I ever did,’ I said, ‘and I don’t want to, either. We have had enough of this sort of thing, and I am not going to have any more agonies over every article we eat.’

I had again put my foot down. But it was too late. I had even forbidden my analyst, under penalty of forfeiture of his pocket-money for several months to come, telling us anything whatever about the food we eat or the drink we imbibe; but the mischief was done. I have lost my confidence in my fellow-man, and still more in my fellow-man’s productions. I may try in an imperfect way to protect our household. I may give the strictest orders that none but the refinedest of sugar shall be admitted into our store-cupboard; but who is to answer for the man who makes the jam and the marmalade, or the other man who makes the Madeira cakes and the three-cornered tarts? And how much is there that we have _not_ heard? I have silenced my analyst’s lips, it is true; but there is also a language of the eyes, and still more a language of the nose, and when, with a scornful tip-tilt of the latter, he says, ‘No, thank you,’ to anything, my appetite is destroyed for that meal. I can’t take a pill or a black draught without my disordered imagination picturing my chemist ‘pestling a poisoned poison’ behind his counter. I can’t even eat a new-laid egg or crack a nut without wondering what it is adulterated with. This is morbid, no doubt. I am quite aware that it is morbid, but I can’t help it. I am like Governor Sancho in the island of Barataria: my choicest dishes are whisked away from me—or rendered nauseous, which is as bad—at the bidding of a grim being who calls himself Analytical Science. He may not know anything about it, or he may be lying; but meanwhile he has spoilt my appetite, and the dish may go away untasted for me.

Truly, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The moral of my painful story is obvious. I intend to bring up the rest of my family, if possible, to occupations involving no knowledge whatever.

THE MONTH: SCIENCE AND ARTS.

About two years ago, we recorded an interesting discovery which had been made on the coast of Norway, that of a viking war-ship, which had formed the tomb of some forgotten Danish freebooter. We have now to chronicle a somewhat similar find, which has recently been unearthed at Brigg, in Lincolnshire. While the workmen were excavating the ground for a new gas-holder, they came upon a block of oak, which ultimately proved to be an ancient British vessel of extraordinary size. It is cut out of a solid piece of wood, and measures forty-eight feet in length, fifty-two inches in width, and thirty-three inches in depth. The boat is in a wonderfully good state of preservation, owing, no doubt, to the clayey nature of the soil in which it lies, and which has effectually sealed up every cranny against the intrusion of the air. The discovery of this prehistoric relic is of such interest, that it is to be hoped some way of preserving it from the action of the weather will be found before it is too late.

Only a few years ago, an ancient wooden causeway was discovered in the same neighbourhood—a causeway made of squared balks of timber fifteen feet long and ten inches square. The ends of these logs were bored with holes for the reception of pegs, so that the whole structure could be firmly fastened to the earth. This was evidently a necessary precaution; for the causeway crosses the valley of the river Ancholme, and would be subject to removal by the action of the tidal waters. It is believed that an extensive shallow lagoon once existed in the Ancholme valley, and that this was slowly filled up with alluvium. It is to this silting up with a non-porous soil that the preservation of both the boat and the causeway is due.

The _Times of India_ raises a curious point about a certain meteor of unusual brilliancy which was seen in India on a certain night in January last. Curiously enough, a meteor which was described by eye-witnesses in almost the same language which was used by the Indian observers, passed over London on the same evening. It was travelling in an easterly direction, and appeared about two hours and a half before the meteor noted in India. The question raised by this double appearance is: Are these two meteors really one and the same? The distance between the two points of observation is between five and six thousand miles, which would give a rate of movement for the meteor of thirty-five and a half miles per minute. The question is a startling one, which we should think could be easily answered by consulting the logs of various vessels which were near the presumed track of the meteor on the night of its occurrence. Such an unusual appearance could not fail to have been recorded.

The celebrated Christy Ethnographical Collection has now been added to the British Museum, and for the first time it may be said that the country which has the best opportunities of studying prehistoric and semi-barbarous peoples in all the countries of the world, is not behind its neighbours in its collection of objects for promoting that study. Mr Henry Christy, who died in 1865, left his wonderful collection to four trustees, to deal with it as they might think fit in the best interests of science. These trustees offered the collection to the national Museum on the very wise condition, that it was not to become the property of the Museum until it should be publicly exhibited there. This proviso has prevented the collection being packed away into cellars for an indefinite time, a fate which has befallen too many treasures intrusted to the national Museum.

The delegates of the French Chambers of Commerce who accompanied M. de Lesseps during the late survey of the Panama Canal works, have now returned with hopeful tales of the ultimate success of the grand project for uniting the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Briefly put, the matter stands thus: let money be supplied, and the work can be brought to a glorious termination. M. de Lesseps affirms that the canal can be opened for traffic as soon as 1889; and he points to the circumstance that all contracts expire in 1888. But contractors are but mortal, and it is believed by experts that the hard Culebra rocks, which present the most formidable obstacle to the prosecution of the work, cannot be cut through in less than five years. These rocks are more than a mile in length, and in some spots they rise to a height of more than one hundred and fifty feet above the canal level.

In a recent article on ‘The National Egg-supply,’ a contemporary gives some interesting particulars regarding the productiveness of different kinds of fowls. The laying power of each hen is said to be on an average one hundred eggs per annum. This seems a small average. Some fowls will lay as many as two hundred and twenty per annum, but the larger proportion yield not more than from sixty-five to one hundred and twenty per annum. Care and proper food have much to do with productiveness, as all keepers of fowls know well. A large portion of our egg-supply comes from Ireland, where the birds are not nearly so well tended as they are in England and Scotland. A score of Irish eggs selected at random from a large crate weighed a little under two pounds. The eggs from good Dorkings will weigh six ounces more than this. The eggs from Spanish fowls weigh two pounds fourteen ounces per score; while those from Leghorns weigh as much as three pounds for the same quantity. The total cost of our annual egg-supply is calculated to be nearly seven millions sterling.

Mr W. K. Brooks, of the John Hopkins University of America, has put forward a new observation regarding oyster spat, which may account for the failure of the fisheries in many parts of this country. He remarks that the young oyster as it settles upon the bottom of the sea is in some localities so covered with sediment that it is killed at a very early stage of existence. He holds that the tender oyster should find a resting-place which must be clean as well as free from destructive pests. He recommends the employment of floating frames furnished with a bottom of galvanised wire-netting for the reception of the fry. Under such conditions, it is found that oysters grow with wonderful rapidity.

Anglers know well that the voracious pike is a fish most tenacious of life, and that hours after he has lain in the fishing-creel apparently dead, he is quite capable of giving a snap with his sharp teeth. But few are aware how long a pike will live out of his proper element. A Paris fishmonger recently received a quantity of fish from Rotterdam which were packed in ice. Among these was a pike over two feet long, which, on unpacking, was seen slightly to move its gills. The fish was placed in fresh water, with the result that in a few hours it was fully alive and very active. This fish, as far as can be learnt, was actually out of the water for three days, during which time it travelled nearly three hundred miles. It is now in the Trocadero Aquarium, and seems to have fully recovered from its curious experience.

The _Sanitary Record_ informs metropolitan householders that their peace is threatened with a new danger. A London resident found that each time the water was turned on to his house, a plentiful supply of coal-gas was delivered gratis at the same time and through the same pipes. The explanation of the matter is as follows: in the particular street where this strange thing happened, the soil round the water main is completely saturated with gas from leaky pipes. When the water is turned off, there is a vacuum formed in the main, and gas is sucked in through imperfect joints, to be delivered to the unfortunate residents directly the water is again turned on. The matter can of course be easily remedied; but the serious lesson taught by the incident is that gas can find its way to water-pipes, and that sewer-gas may as easily do so as coal-gas.

The last application of rock-oil is a petroleum engine, which we saw working lately in London. In general appearance, it is like a gas engine; but it has a tank fixed above the cylinder which contains a supply of petroleum. This liquid is conveyed by a small pipe and pump to the cylinder at the rate of about four drops per stroke of the piston rod. It is ignited by a spirit-lamp after having been mingled with sufficient air to form an explosive mixture. The working cost of the engine is calculated at three-halfpence per horse-power per hour for petroleum, and one-sixth of that sum for lubricating. The engine will be valuable where gas is not to be obtained and where steam is inadmissible.

Mr William Anderson lately delivered an interesting lecture before the Royal Institution ‘On New Applications of the Mechanical Properties of Cork to the Arts.’ He showed that cork was unique among solid substances in being capable of cubical compression both from forces applied in opposite directions and from pressure from all sides. This is shown when cork is immersed in water and is subjected to hydraulic pressure. The phenomenon in question is due to the peculiar cellular structure of the material, which causes it to behave more like a gas when under pressure than like a solid. Mr Anderson proposes to use cork instead of air in the air-vessels of water-raising machinery, and he showed by experiment how well fitted it was for doing this duty. He also proposes to use it in connection with gun-carriages in the following way: the carriage is to be furnished with hydraulic compressors in the customary manner, but the water in the cylinders is to be driven by the recoil of the gun into a vessel filled with cork. This will represent a store of energy which will run the gun out again when loaded, by the aid of a tap which will liberate the water from the compressed cork. The lecture certainly exhibited cork in a new character, and called attention to many ways in which it can be used with advantage.

The nebula in the Pleiades, so strangely discovered by photography, although it was quite invisible to ordinary telescopic scrutiny, has now been detected by more than one observer. It is, however, as may be guessed, an extremely faint object. MM. Perrotin and Thollon, of the observatory at Nice, say that they have seen it, but admit at the same time that this was only because they knew from the Paris photograph that it existed.

The number of valuable substances which can be extracted from coal-tar is marvellous, and would surprise gas manufacturers of a generation ago, who gladly gave away the tar to any one who would take it. The last product of the black and ill-smelling fluid is a substance which has been named Saccharin, on account of its extreme sweetness, and the discovery is due to Professor Fahlberg. Saccharin is said to be two hundred and thirty times sweeter than the best cane-sugar. It has a great interest for the medical profession, for it can be used to render palatable the food of patients suffering from diabetes, and has been already adopted for this service in one of the Berlin hospitals. At present, the new sweetener costs forty shillings per pound. It has been ascertained by experiment that saccharin is innocuous; and we may feel sure that if its price can be reduced, it will become a formidable rival to sugar.

The chief of the United States Geological Survey, Major Powell, has discovered near California what he believes to be the oldest human habitations on the American continent. The mountains in the vicinity are covered with beds of lava, in which have been excavated square rooms, lined with a kind of cement made with lava. Although these rock-dwellers were of prehistoric time, their work shows traces of an advanced civilisation. Several articles of pottery have been found in these cave-dwellings, as well as a kind of cloth made of woven hair. Wrapped in such a cloth, which tumbled into dust when touched, there was found a small image resembling a man. No fewer than sixty groups of these villages in the lava have been found.

Mr Eric S. Bruce, who has been experimenting during the past year for the government with a balloon for signalling purposes, which he has invented, is about to exhibit a balloon of the same kind at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham. This aërostat will have a capacity of eighty thousand cubic feet, sufficient to give it the necessary lifting power to carry up several passengers. The balloon will be a captive one, like that exhibited at Paris in 1878, and will, like its huge forerunner, be hauled down to the earth after each ascent, by steam-power. It will ascend for the amusement of visitors during the daytime, telephonic communication being maintained between the car and the earth; while at night it will be illuminated by the electric light, so that Mr Bruce’s method of signalling may be fully demonstrated.

The number of deep wells sunk in London and its neighbourhood during the past thirty years has had the effect of lowering the general water level in the chalk to the amount of about twelve inches annually. But there is still a very large quantity available—so the experts say—without sinking shafts to extraordinary depths. Much interest attaches to the subject at the present time on account of the threatened action of the London corporation to sink wells for themselves, as the strongest protest they can offer against the high charges of the Water Company supplying the city.

The title of one of Turner’s best pictures, ‘The _Téméraire_ towed to her last Moorings,’ comes to the mind as one hears that the _Great Eastern_, the largest steamship ever built, too large, indeed, to be profitably worked, has steamed round to Liverpool to serve as a show-place during the Maritime Exhibition there. After this last duty is done, this monument of Brunel’s wonderful skill will take up her position as a coal-hulk.

People who rejoice in the possession of wealth and who have plenty of time on their hands, generally develop into ‘collectors.’ Coins, pictures, books, china, orchids, postage-stamps, &c., have their periods as the fashionable things to gather together. The last craze of this kind is devoted to engraved plates. Old copper plates are perhaps the best; and the way to preserve and exhibit them is as follows: the plate is rolled with ink and polished, just as if an impression were required of it. It is then set aside for the ink to dry, when it receives a coating of clear varnish, to protect it from the oxidising action of the air. It is now framed and hung up like an ordinary picture.

The Kyrle Societies have seldom reason to congratulate iron manufacturers on the progress of their art; but it seems as if they might heartily rejoice in a Report recently made at the instance of the North-eastern Steel Company as to the utilisation of an important by-product of the steel manufacture. The Report is on the results of experiments made to test the value of basic cinder as a manure, and is the joint work of Professor Wrightson and Dr Munro, of the College of Agriculture, Downton, Salisbury. Basic cinder, or basic steel slag, is the broken-up and useless lining of the converters used in the Thomas-Gilchrist process for dephosphorising iron, and is a bulky by-product of the manufacture. It contains from sixteen to nineteen per cent. of phosphoric acid combined with lime and other bases; and the Report in question puts it beyond a doubt that the undissolved phosphates of the cinder have an available and remarkable value for manurial purposes. Extensive and elaborate experiments conducted at Downton and elsewhere showed decisively that this heretofore inconvenient substance is an excellent fertiliser for swedes and other turnips, as well as for grass. It seems to be positively better for this purpose than ground coprolites, and only a little less effective than superphosphate. This interesting Report is published at the _Daily Exchange_ Offices, Middlesborough. Similar experiments have been attended with like success in Germany; and from _Le Temps_ it would appear that enterprising agricultural chemists are already in treaty with some of the blast-furnaces of Alsace-Lorraine for the purchase of all the slag produced by them.

The history of the recovery of a portion of the mails from the Cunard steamer _Oregon_, ought to supply chemists and inventors with a good deal of food for thought. Before the vessel sank, a portion of the mail was recovered, but by far the greater portion went down with her. This was the case with the registered letters, the portion of the mail containing securities, coupons, &c., to the value of at least one hundred thousand pounds, besides drafts, letters of credit, &c., of which the value was unknown. A notice has been issued by the Liverpool postmaster which tells us that the whole of these registered letters have been recovered. The letters were thoroughly soaked, but the post-office authorities dried them as carefully as they could and sent them on to their destination. All the mail-matter that has been recovered was badly damaged by wetting, while the bags which were subjected to long-continued soaking at the bottom of the sea were very much damaged. In one case, a fifty pound note sent from Frome to Chicago was delivered only just recognisable, but still sufficient to insure its being honoured.

These facts have led an American scientific journal to urge the necessity for waterproof mailbags, waterproof paper, and waterproof ink. Waterproof mailbags alone will not be sufficient, as, in the process of handling them or raising them from a sunken vessel, they are liable to be rendered leaky. Waterproof paper, again, would be of no service unless it was accompanied by waterproof ink. The mailbags need only be waterproof in the ordinary acceptation of the term; and if there could be certainty that they would remain so, nothing more would be needed to protect documents or anything else placed in them; but as holes are likely to be worn or torn in them, the only final resource is the production of paper and ink that will resist the prolonged action of sea-water. If such a paper and ink can be produced at a reasonable cost, they would meet with a ready market throughout the civilised world. But the paper must be lighter, more flexible, and more opaque than the waterproof parchment paper now obtainable.

The lesson which the loss of the _Oregon_ seems to teach the commercial world is, that a convenient waterproof paper is required for transatlantic correspondence. Modern chemistry and mechanical invention ought to be able to meet this want.

No class of the community has received so much good advice as that to which the farmer belongs, and it would be a wonder if he did not resent some of it, and say that it is not good advice that is wanted most, but good seasons. However, when a practical lesson comes within one’s reach for the better utilisation of available material, only a foolish person would neglect to learn it. In the model dairy at the Brighton Show, last summer, Professor Long gave an explanatory demonstration of the simple methods of making three kinds of soft cheese, by the employment of tinned-iron hoops, beech-boards, straw-mats, milk-vessels, draining-shelves, and a thermometer. In the Journal of the Bath and West of England Society, he has recently drawn attention to the subject again, and explains his method whereby the farmer may utilise his skim-milk by the profitable manufacture of soft cheese. It seems that anybody can learn the processes; and a few experiments will teach the practice of ripening the cheeses in an apartment having a regulated temperature proper for the development of the necessary white mould, followed by blue mould, producing the most accepted flavour.

From a gallon of ‘whole’ milk, costing sixpence, Professor Long made Brie cheese—the most famous of French varieties—worth, at ten days to three months old, from one shilling to one shilling and sixpence; from half a gallon of milk, half of it skim-milk, valued at twopence-halfpenny, he made Coulommiers, a round cheese worth at least eightpence; and from skim-milk only, costing about one penny, he made a square variety, of his own invention, named Graveley cheese, partaking of the qualities of the Limburg of Germany and the Livarot of France. We understand that nearly six millions of the delicious Brie cheeses are made annually in certain districts of France for the Parisian market. An important point will be gained, however, in this country, if some of our farmers begin to convert their skim-milk into a product which will sell at three or four times the value of the milk.

Honey-wine is said to be excellent; and Dzierzon—one of the most famous German writers on scientific bee-keeping—tells us that it is often manufactured by peasants in Eastern Europe. It is made as follows: Twenty-five pounds of honey are mixed with four and a half gallons of water in a bright copper boiler, the mixture being gently boiled and constantly skimmed during half an hour. Three pounds of finely powdered chalk are then gradually added, under constant stirring. The tough scum which rises to the surface is skimmed off, and when no more rises, the liquid is poured into a wooden vessel, where it is allowed to settle. The liquid is then carefully decanted into the cleaned kettle, mixed with six pounds of finely powdered and recently burned charcoal, and raised to boiling. It is now once more poured into the wooden vessel, allowed to cool, and then filtered through felt or flannel. It should be stated that the chalk is added to neutralise free acid, while the charcoal removes the waxy taste. The filtered liquor is then transferred to the boiler, mixed with the white of twenty-five eggs, and raised to boiling, when the coagulated albumen will have clarified the liquid. After having kept the liquid at a gentle boil for one hour longer, it is allowed to cool, and is then poured into a cask, which must not be quite full, and the bung-hole covered with a piece of clean linen. In this condition it is allowed to remain until fermentation has been completed. When it is perfectly clear, the liquid is drawn off into bottles. We are told by Dzierzon that this wine, if properly prepared, resembles the best brands of Madeira, and is a truly royal beverage. It keeps for any length of time, provided the bottles are stored in a cool cellar.

A NEW THEORY OF DEW.

The explanation of the formation of dew and hoar-frost which Dr Wells published about seventy years ago, has been almost universally accepted as satisfactory ever since. Shortly stated, Dr Wells’ ‘Theory of Dew’ is as follows: Air always contains a certain amount of moisture in the form of invisible vapour. The hotter the air is, the more vapour will it contain. Thus, during a warm day, a good deal of moisture passes into the air; and when the temperature falls in the evening, some of it is deposited as a fine mist. But even when this mist does not appear, dew is formed. As soon as the sun is down, especially if it is a clear evening, the grass, trees, shrubs, and even the soil itself rapidly get cooled by radiating into space the heat which they contain. These cooled bodies in turn cool the warm air above them, and this causes it to deposit more or less of its moisture, which appears either as a film or in minute drops of dew. The points of the grass, small twigs, and all other good radiating surfaces are cooled the most; and accordingly we find the dewdrops most abundant on these bodies; whilst on metal or hard stone surfaces, which are poor radiators, we seldom or never find any dew. A clear, cloudless sky, which promotes radiation, is always favourable to the formation of dew; but on cloudy nights, little is formed, because the clouds return the heat radiated from the earth.

Hoar-frost is only dew deposited on bodies cooled below the freezing-point. It is formed in winter when the temperature of the air during the day is only a little over this point. At night, the grass and ground are soon cooled below thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit, and what moisture is deposited appears as minute ice-crystals or hoar-frost.

Many experiments can be cited which tend to strengthen and confirm this explanation. Thus, every one is familiar with the fact of glass bottles, mirrors, &c., being covered with moisture on being brought into a warm room. The same thing happens with a cold cabbage leaf, or with a bundle of vegetables or a bunch of flowers. On a cold night, the windows of a warm room soon get dimmed. Still more striking is a phenomenon which frequently occurs in countries where the temperature is much below the freezing-point in winter. The houses are well heated, and if a number of people are together, as in a ballroom, the air soon becomes moisture-laden. If the ventilation is not over-good, it may happen that a door or window will be opened. With the rush of cold air from without, the merry-makers are often alarmed by being suddenly covered with hoar-frost, or sometimes even a shower of snow. This does not come from the outside, as it occurs most readily on cold, clear, starlit nights. It is the moisture of the air of the room suddenly cooled below freezing-point that appears as snow or hoar-frost. Many similar experiments may be noticed, all of which are satisfactorily accounted for on Dr Wells’ theory.

Yet, within the last few months, Mr Aitken, in a communication to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, has brought forward many observations, and the results of numerous experiments, which appear to prove that Dr Wells’ theory of dew is not, after all, correct.

The essential difference between the old and the new theories is as to the source of the moisture which forms the dew. Instead of being condensed from the air above by the cooled vegetation, Mr Aitken maintains that it comes from the ground. The author of the original theory admitted that some of the dew might come from below, but affirmed that it must be an exceedingly small proportion. Mr Aitken’s experiments, on the contrary, seem to prove that most if not the whole comes from the ground.

It is quite clear that the grass and soil do get rapidly cooled on dewy nights; but if they are below the temperature of the air above, the ground just under the surface is much warmer. Thermometers placed on the surface of grass were often found ten to eighteen degrees lower than those placed under the surface among the stems. In such circumstances, vapour must be rising from the soil, and part of it will condense on the grass, which has been cooled by radiation. By carefully weighing small squares of turf cut from a lawn before and after the appearance of dew on them, it was always found that they _lost_ weight. If the dew had condensed out of the surrounding air, the turf would have _gained_ in weight by the amount of dew deposited. It was thus clear that vapour was rising from the ground, only part of which was condensed on the grass, the remainder passing into the air.

Another experiment, pointing to the same conclusion, was made by inverting thin trays over the grass. On dewy nights these trays were always found wet on the under surface; and the grass below them was always much wetter than that freely exposed outside. The moisture rising from the ground was evidently trapped and condensed, instead of being allowed to pass freely into the atmosphere.

The explanation of the absence of dew on the surface of stones, roads, and other hard surfaces, on the old theory was, that these, being poor radiators, did not get much cooled. But closer observation shows that dew does form on stones and clods and gravel, only it is chiefly on the under surfaces. Thus, slates laid over both hard and gravelly roads are always found dripping wet on their under surfaces on dewy nights; while their upper surfaces and the surrounding roads are dry. During frost, too, clods and stones on the surface of the soil are almost always found to be covered with hoar-frost, showing that the moisture is trapped as it rises from the soil.

But perhaps the most interesting observations and experiments were those made to determine the origin of the ‘dewdrops’ on grass and vegetables. In the first place, it is found that these drops do not appear on all plants. Some are wet, while others growing alongside are dry, though there could be no great difference in their radiating power. Then the leaves do not get wet all over, but only at the edges and on the tips. A closer observation reveals the fact that these so-called ‘dewdrops’ are formed at the end of the minute veins of the leaves and grass, and are not now recognised as dew at all, but moisture exuded from the interior of the plants themselves. Moreover, these drops always appear before the true dew in the evening, and very often are seen when no true dew is formed. They even appear when the vegetables are placed under conditions where condensation of the surrounding water-vapour is impossible, and must, therefore, be due to the vital activity of the plants.

Another observation may be mentioned which clearly shows that moisture rising from below may become condensed on the cooled surfaces of loose material. If the weather is at all cold, the beard and moustaches get covered with moisture; and in very cold climates, the eyebrows, hair, and whiskers get covered with a coating of hoar-frost. The moisture which forms this certainly comes from the body, which is always at a much higher temperature than the surrounding air.

All these observations and experiments have led to the conclusion that moisture is constantly being given off from the earth; and that, except on the rare occasions when a warm moisture-laden wind blows gently over a previously cooled surface, it only returns to the surface of the ground after being condensed into rain, sleet, snow, or hail. Dew is only a portion of the outward current trapped on the exposed and cooled surfaces of the grass and other bodies.

COMRIE EARTHQUAKES.

Regarding earth-tremors or earthquakes, which, curiously enough, seem to be mainly confined in Scotland to Comrie, in Perthshire, a correspondent writing from Comrie kindly favours us with the following notes as to the erection which is there devoted to the registering of earthquakes. Our correspondent says:

I recently visited the building with a view of giving you a few notes as to its history and construction. I may state that about fourteen years ago, the British Association applied to Mr Drummond of Drumearn for leave to erect a house on his property, which he at once granted free of charge, and assisted to defray the cost of erection.

The reason why the British Association selected a site here and erected this earthquake-house at Comrie, was on account of the long-continued periodical shocks that had been felt in Upper Strathearn, particularly from the year 1780 to 1848. About the former date, they had been rather severely felt over the whole district, and damage to some extent done to buildings. On a sheet of water near to Lawers House, the ice was shattered to pieces. Some of the inhabitants at that time kept a record of their occurrence; and we believe the late Sir David Dundas, of Dunira, had a seismometer placed on his estate in Glenlednoch, to the north of Comrie; but there seems to be no evidence to show that it had ever indicated any shock. Coming down to the year 1839, the inhabitants of the village of Comrie were greatly alarmed, about eleven o’clock on the night of the 23d of October, by one of the most violent tremors that had been experienced there; and the good people rushed out of their houses and assembled in the old Secession Church for prayer, which was conducted by the Rev. R. T. Walker, the minister of that church. Many others fled to the hills. But no serious damage was done to property, save some rents in the chimneys. From 1839 to 1847, tremors continued to be more frequent, causing considerable alarm by the movements of furniture and crockery.

The work of erecting the building proposed by the British Association was carried out under the care of the late Dr James Bryce of Glasgow, who resided here for many seasons, and was well acquainted with the locality and its geological formation. The site chosen is a rising ground near Drumearn House, and is built on rock that is supposed to extend a considerable distance westward. The building is stone, and slated, and is about seven feet square inside. The floor is laid with Arbroath pavement, on solid rock, and is overlaid with fine sand, on which are placed two boards, at right angles to each other. These boards are six feet long by nine inches broad, and on each are placed, standing, nine round wooden pins, varying from the fourth of an inch to an inch and a half in diameter, but all of one height (eight inches).

The building is in excellent condition, and the pins or markers are in their places, awaiting the action of an earthquake to record the desired information as to the severity and direction of this now seemingly extinct agency of force in Upper Strathearn. The size of pin or cylinder thrown down, and the direction in which it falls, indicate the strength of shock as well as its direction. Any one who feels interested and may wish to visit the building will readily get access by applying to Mr Drummond.

Many theories have been propounded as to the cause of the earthquakes which have visited this district. The late Mr Patrick M‘Farlane of Comrie, who took a great interest in them, erected a seismometer in the steeple of the parish church of Comrie, which was visited by many of the members of the British Association and others; but so far as we are aware, it never registered any markings. It was a very simple apparatus. The pendulum was of considerable length, and all but rested on a table overlaid with magnesia, which, being light, offered no resistance to the oscillation of the pendulum. A few slight shocks occurred between 1847 and 1877, but these attracted little notice.

I may remark that no earthquake had, till recently, been felt here for some years, consequently, there had been no registering. But on Sunday morning 18th April last, at one o’clock, and again on Thursday the 22d of the same month, about half-past five A.M., a slight earthquake occurred. I visited the earthquake-house on both occasions; but there were no markings, none of the pins having fallen.

WHICH?

If thou art false as thou art fair,
And false the fairest fair may be,
Again the wondrous power to snare,
Again the siren’s self we see.
There’s danger in those dimpling smiles,
It glances from that witching e’e,
And he who would escape thy wiles,
Must quickly from the tempter flee.

For better far, as sages tell,
From fickle fair to bid adieu,
Than fall beneath the magic spell
Of charms the heart may ever rue.
Beware, if false, of beauty bright,
Beware that luring beacon’s ray,
For, oh! the love that trusts its light,
May drift a wreck ere dawn of day.

But if thou’rt true as thou art fair,
Art leal in heart, though seeming gay,
Wouldst ever constant prove, and ne’er
With faithful heart all faithless play,
Then thou’rt a gem worth more than gold,
More precious than the ruby rare,
More to be prized than wealth untold,
True heart enshrined in form so fair.

JOHN NAPIER.

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