Chapter XI…

Chapter XI

OPTICAL ILLUSIONS—ZOLLNER’S DESIGNS—THE THAUMATROPE—PHENOKISTOSCOPE—THE ZOOTROPE—THE PRAXINOSCOPE—THE DAZZLING TOP.

We shall now continue the subject by describing some illusions more curious still—those of ocular estimation. These illusions depend rather on the particular properties of the figures we examine, and the greater part of these phenomena may be placed in that category whose law we have just formulated: the differences clearly perceived appear greater than the differences equal to them, but perceived with greater difficulty. Thus a line —— when divided appears greater than when not divided; the direct perception of the parts makes us notice the number of the sub-divisions, the size of which is more perceptible than when the parts are not clearly marked off. Thus, in fig. 115, we imagine the length ab equals bc, although ab is in reality longer than bc. In an experiment consisting of dividing a line into two equal parts, the right eye tends to increase the half on the right, and the left eye to enlarge that on the left. To arrive at an exact estimate, we turn over the paper and find the exact centre.

Illusions of this kind become more striking when the distances to be compared run in different directions. If we look at A and B (fig. 116), which are perfect squares, A appears greater in length than width, whilst B, on the contrary, appears to have greater width than length. The case is the same with angles. On looking at fig. 117, angles 1, 2, 3, 4 are straight, and should appear so when examined. But 1 and 2 appear pointed, and 3 and 4 obtuse. The illusion is still greater if we look at the figure with the right eye. If, on the contrary, we turn it, so that 2 and 3 are at the bottom, 1 and 2 will appear greatly pointed to the left eye. The divided angles always appear relatively greater than they would appear without divisions.

The same illusion is presented in a number of examples in the course of daily life. An empty room appears smaller than a furnished room, and a wall covered with paperhangings appears larger than a bare wall. It is a well-known source of amusement to present someone in company with a hat, and request him to mark on the wall its supposed height from the ground. The height generally indicated will be a size and a half too large.

We will relate an experience described by Bravais: “When at sea,” he says, “at a certain distance from a coast which presents many inequalities, if we attempt to draw the coastline as it presents itself to the eye, we shall find on verification that the horizontal dimensions have been correctly sketched at a certain scale, while all the vertical angular objects have been represented on a scale twice as large. This illusion, which is sure to occur in estimates of this kind, can be demonstrated by numerous observations.”

M. Helmholtz has also indicated several optical illusions.

If we examine fig. 118, the continuation of the line a does not appear to be d,—which it is in reality,—but f, which is a little lower. This illusion is still more striking when we make the figure on a smaller scale (fig. 119), as at B, where the two fine lines are in continuation with each other, but do not appear to be so, and at C, where they appear so, but are not in reality. If we draw the figures as at A (fig. 118), leaving out the line d, and look at them from a gradually increasing distance, so that they appear to diminish, it will be found that the further off the figure is placed, the more it seems necessary to lower the line f to make it appear a continuation of a. These effects are produced by irradiation; they can also be produced by black lines on a white foundation. Near the point of the two acute angles, the circles of diffusion of the two black lines touch and mutually reinforce each other; consequently the retinal image of the narrow line presents its maximum of darkness nearest to the broad line, and appears to deviate on that side. In figures of this kind, however, executed on a larger scale, as in fig. 118, irradiation can scarcely be the only cause of illusion. We will continue our exposition as a means of finding an explanation. In fig. 120, A and B present some examples pointed out by Hering; the straight, parallel lines, a b, and c d, appear to bend outwards at A, and inwards at B. But the most striking example is that represented by fig. 121, published by Zollner.

The vertical black strips of this figure are parallel with each other, but they appear convergent and divergent, and seem constantly turned out of a vertical position into a direction inverse to that of the oblique lines which divide them. The separate halves of the oblique lines are displaced respectively, like the narrow lines in fig. 119. If the figure is turned so that the broad vertical lines present an inclination of 45° to the horizon, the convergence appears even more remarkable, whilst we notice less the apparent deviation of the halves of the small lines, which are then horizontal and vertical. The direction of the vertical and horizontal lines is less modified than that of the oblique lines. We may look upon these latter illusions as fresh examples of the aforesaid rule, according to which acute angles clearly defined, but of small size, appear, as a rule, relatively larger when we compare with obtuse or right angles which are undivided; but if the apparent enlargement of an acute angle shows itself in such a manner that the two sides appear to diverge, the illusions given in figs. 118, 120, and 121, will be the result.

In fig. 118 the narrow lines appear to turn towards the point where they penetrate the thick line and disappear, to appear afterwards in continuation of each other. In fig. 120 the two halves of each of the two straight lines seem to deviate through the entire length in such a manner that the acute angles which they form with the oblique lines appear enlarged. The same effect is shown by the vertical lines of fig. 121.

M. Helmholtz is of opinion (figs. 120, 121) that the law of contrast is insufficient to entirely explain the phenomena, and believes that the effect is also caused by the movements of the eye. In fact, the illusions almost entirely disappear, if we fix on a point of the object in order to develop an accidental image, and when we have obtained one very distinctly, which is quite possible with Zollner’s design (fig. 121), this image will present not the slightest trace of illusion. In fig. 118 the displacement of the gaze will exercise no very decided influence on the strengthening of the illusion; on the contrary, it disappears when we turn our eyes on the narrow line, ad. On the other hand, the fixing of the eyes causes the illusion to disappear with relative facility in fig. 120, and with more difficulty in fig. 121; it will, however, disappear equally in the latter design, if we fix it immovably, and instead of considering it as composed of black lines on a white background, we compel ourselves to picture it as white lines on a black foundation; then the illusion vanishes. But if we let our eyes wander over the illustration, the illusion will return in full force. We can indeed succeed in completely destroying the illusion produced by these designs by covering them with a sheet of opaque paper, on which we rest the point of a pin. Looking fixedly at the point, we suddenly draw away the paper, and can then judge if the gaze has been fixed and steady according to the clearness of the accidental image which is formed as a result of the experiment.

The light of an electric spark furnishes the surest and simplest means of counteracting the influence of movements of the eyes, as during the momentary duration of the spark the eye cannot execute any sensible movement. For this experiment the present writer has made use of a wooden box, A B C D (fig. 122), blackened on the inside. Two holes are made for the eyes on each side of the box, f and g. The observer looks through the openings, f, and in front of openings, g, the objects are placed; these are pierced through with a pin, which can be fixed by the eyes in the absence of the electric spark, when the box is perfectly dark. The box is open, and rests on the table, B D, to allow of changing the object. The conducting wires of electricity are at h and i; in the centre of the box is a strip of cardboard, white on the side facing the spark, the light of which it shelters from the eye of the observer and throws back again on the object. With the electric light the illusion was completely perceptible with fig. 118, while it disappeared altogether in fig. 120; with fig. 121 it was not entirely absent, but when it showed itself, it was much more feeble and doubtful than usual, though the intensity of light was quite sufficient to allow of the form of the object being very distinctly examined. Thus two different phenomena have to be explained; first, the feeble illusion which is produced without the intervention of movements of the eye; and secondly, the strengthening of the illusion in consequence of these movements. The law of contrast sufficiently explains the first; that which one perceives most distinctly with indirect vision is the concordance of directions with dimensions of the same kind. We perceive more distinctly the difference of direction presented at their intersection by the two sides of an acute or obtuse angle, than the deviation that exists between one of the sides and the perpendicular which we imagine placed on the other side, but which is not marked. By being distributed on both sides, the apparent enlargement of the angles gives way to displacements, and changes of direction of the sides. It is difficult to correct the apparent displacement of the lines when they remain parallel to their true direction; for this reason, the illusion of the figure is relatively more inflexible. Changes of direction, on the contrary, are recognised more easily if we examine the figure attentively, when these changes have the effect of causing the concordance of the lines (which accord in reality) to disappear; it is probably because of the difference in aspect of the numerous oblique lines of figs. 120 and 121 that the concordance of these lines escapes the observer’s notice. As regards the influence exercised by the motion of the eyes in the apparent direction of the lines, M. Helmholtz, after discussing the matter very thoroughly, proves the strengthening of the illusion in Zollner’s illustration to be caused by those motions. It is not now our intention to follow out the whole of this demonstration; it will be sufficient to point out to the reader a fruitful force of study, with but little known results.

The Romans were well acquainted with the influence of oblique lines. At Pompeii, fresco paintings are to be found, in which the lines are not parallel, so that they satisfy the eye influenced by adjacent lines. Engravers in copper-plate have also studied the influence of etchings on the parallelism of straight lines, and they calculate the effect that they will produce on the engraving. In some ornamentations in which these results have not been calculated, it sometimes happens that parallel lines do not appear parallel because of the influence of other oblique lines, and a disagreeable effect is produced. A similar result is to be seen at the railway station at Lyons, the roof of which is covered with inlaid work in point de Hongrie. The wide parallel lines of this ceiling appear to deviate, a result produced by a series of oblique lines formed by the planks of wood.

Having given a long account of the result of M. Helmholtz’s labours, we will pass to the consideration of another kind of experiments, or rather appliances, based on the illusions of vision, and the persistence of impressions on the retina.

The Thaumatrope, to which we have already referred, is a plaything of very ancient origin, based on the principle we have mentioned. It consists of a cardboard disc, which we put in motion by pulling two cords. On one side of the disc a cage, a, is portrayed, on the other a bird, b (fig. 123). When the little contrivance is turned round, the two designs are seen at the same time, and form but one image—that of a bird in its cage (fig. 124). It is of course hardly necessary to add that the designs may be varied.

We have already referred to M. Plateau’s rotating disc (the Phenakistoscope). Through the narrow slits we perceive in succession representations of different positions of a certain action. The persistence of the luminous impressions on the retina gives to the eye the sensation of a continuous image, which seems animated by the same movements as those portrayed in the different phases (fig. 125).

The Zootrope (fig. 126) is a perfected specimen of this apparatus. It is composed of a cylinder of cardboard, turning on a central axis. The cylinder is pierced with vertical slits at regular intervals, and through which the spectator can see the designs upon a band of paper adapted to the interior of the apparatus in rotation. The designs are so executed that they represent the different times of a movement between two extremes; and in consequence of the impressions upon the retina the successive phases are mingled, so the spectator believes he sees, without transition, the entire movement. We give a few specimens of the pictures for the Zootrope (fig. 127). We have here an ape leaping over a hedge, a dancing “Punch,” a gendarme pursuing a thief, a person holding the devil by the tail, a robber coming out of a box, and a sportsman firing at a bird. The extremes of the movement are right and left; the intermediary figures make the transitions, and they are usually equal in number to the slits in the Zootrope. It is not difficult to construct such an instrument, and better drawings could be made than the specimens taken at random from a model. The earth might be represented turning in space, or a fire-engine pumping water could be given, and thus the Zootrope might be quite a vehicle of instruction as well as of amusement. This instrument is certainly one of the most curious in the range of optics, and never fails to excite interest. The ingenious contrivances which have up to the present time reproduced it, all consist in the employment of narrow slits, which besides reducing the light to a great extent, and consequently the light and clearness of the object, require the instrument to be set in rapid rotation, which greatly exaggerates the rapidity of the movements represented, and without which the intermissions of the spectacle could not unite in a continuous sensation.

We present here an apparatus based on a very different optical arrangement. In the Praxinoscope[12] (a name given by the inventor, Mr. Reynaud, to this new apparatus), the substitution of one object for another is accomplished without interruption in the vision, or solution of continuity, and consequently without a sensible reduction of light; in a word, the eye beholds continuously an image which, nevertheless, is incessantly changing before it. The result was obtained in this manner. Having sought unsuccessfully by mechanical means to substitute one object for another without interrupting the continuity of the spectacle, the inventor was seized with the idea of producing this substitution, not with the objects themselves, but with their virtual images. He then contrived the arrangement which we will now describe. A plane mirror, AB (fig. 129), is placed at a certain distance from an object, CD, and the virtual image will be seen at C′D′. If we then turn the plane mirror and object towards the point, O, letting BE and DF be their new positions, the image will be at C″D″. Its axis, O, will not be displaced. In the positions, AB and CD, first occupied by the plane mirror and the object, we now place another mirror and object. Let us imagine the eye placed at M. Half of the first object will be seen at OD″, and half of the second at OC′. If we continue the rotation of the instrument, we shall soon have mirror No. 2 at TT′, and object No. 2 at SS′. At the same moment the image of object No. 2 will be seen entirely at C‴D″. Mirror No. 2 and its object will soon after be at BE and DF. If we then imagine another mirror and its corresponding object at AB and CD, the same succession of phenomena will be reproduced. This experiment therefore shows that a series of objects placed on the perimeter of a polygon will be seen successively at the centre, if the plane mirrors are placed on a concentric polygon, the “apothème” of which will be less by one-half, and which will be carried on by the same movement. In its practical form, M. Reynaud’s apparatus consists of a polygonal or simply circular box (fig. 128), (for the polygon may be replaced by a circle without the principle or result being changed), in the centre of which is placed a prism of exactly half a diameter less, the surface of which is covered with plane mirrors. A strip of cardboard bearing a number of designs of the same object, portrayed in different phases of action, is placed in the interior of the circular rim of the box, so that each position corresponds to a plate of the glass prism. A moderate movement of rotation given to the apparatus, which is raised on a central pivot, suffices to produce the substitution of the figures, and the animated object is reflected on the centre of the glass prism with remarkable brightness, clearness, and delicacy of movement. Constructed in this manner, the Praxinoscope forms an optical toy both interesting and amusing. In the evening, a lamp placed on a support ad hoc, in the centre of the apparatus, suffices to light it up very clearly, and a number of persons may conveniently assemble round it, and witness the effects produced.

Besides the attractions offered by the animated scenes of the Praxinoscope, the apparatus may also be made the object of useful applications in the study of optics. It permits an object, a drawing, or a colour, to be substituted instantaneously in experiments on secondary or subjective images, etc., on the contrast of colours or the persistence of impressions, etc. We can also make what is called a synthesis of movements by placing before the prism a series of diagrams of natural objects by means of photography.

M. Reynaud has already arranged an apparatus which exhibits in the largest dimensions the animated reflection of the Praxinoscope, and which lends itself to the demonstration of curious effects before a numerous auditory. The ingenious inventor has recently contrived also a very curious improvement in the original apparatus. In the Praxinoscope Theatre he has succeeded in producing truly ornamental tableaux, as on a small Lilliputian stage, in the centre of which the principal object moves with startling effect. To obtain this result, M. Reynaud commences by cutting out in black paper the different figures, the whole of which will form an object animated by the rotation given to the Praxinoscope. To supply the decorations, he arranges on the black foundation the image of an appropriate coloured design by means of a piece of glass. It is well known that transparent glass possesses the property of giving a reflection of the objects on the nearest side as well as on the farthest. We may recall the applications of this optical effect in theatres, and also in courses of physics, under the title of impalpable spectres. It is also by reflection on thin, transparent glass, that M. Reynaud produces the image of the ornamentations in the Praxinoscope Theatre. The decorations are really placed in the lid, which is held by a hook in a vertical position, thus forming the front side of the apparatus (fig. 130). In this side a rectangular opening is made, through which the spectator (using both eyes) perceives at the same time the animated reflection of the Praxinoscope, and the immovable image of the decorations reflected in the transparent glass. The position of the latter and its distance from the coloured decorations are arranged so that the reflection is thrown behind the moving figure, which consequently appears in strong relief against the background, the effect produced being very striking. It is evident that to change the decorations it is only necessary to place in succession on a slide the different chromos representing landscapes, buildings, the interior of a circus, etc. It is easy to choose an arrangement suitable for each of the moving figures placed in the Praxinoscope. By this clever and entirely novel optical combination, the mechanism of the contrivance is entirely lost sight of, leaving only the effect produced by the animated figures, which fulfil their different movements on the little stage. The Praxinoscope Theatre can also be used as well in the evening as in the daytime. By daylight, it is sufficient to place it before a window, and in the evening the same effects may be produced, perhaps in even a more striking manner, by simply placing a lamp on the stand, with a small plated reflector, and a lamp-shade. The illusion produced by this scientific plaything is very complete and curious, and M. Reynaud cannot be too much commended for so cleverly applying his knowledge of physics in the construction of an apparatus which is at the same time both an optical instrument and a charming source of amusement.

Amongst the toys founded upon the persistency of impressions upon the retina we may instance the “Dazzling Top” (fig. 131). This remarkable invention is quite worthy of a place in every cabinet, and is an ingenious specimen of a perfected Helmholtz top. It is a metallic toy put in motion by means of a cord wound round a groove. The axis is hollow, admits a metallic stem, and fits into a handle which is held in the hand. The top is placed upon a little cup in an upright position, and it is then set spinning in the usual way with the cord. The stem and handle are then withdrawn, and as the top will continue to spin for a long time, discs and various outline shapes can be fixed upon it, and various objects will be shadowed thereon. Cups, bowls, candlesticks, and jugs can be seen plainly revolving as the top carries the wire representation in outline rapidly past the eyes. Coloured cardboard can be worked into various patterns, and much amusement will be created amongst children and young people.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] From praxis, action, and skopein, to show.

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Chapter XII

OPTICAL ILLUSIONS CONTINUED—EXPERIMENTS—THE TALKING HEAD—GHOST ILLUSIONS.

The enumeration of optical illusions is so considerable that we have no intention of describing them all, and will merely cite a few other examples. The following facts have been communicated to us by M. Nachet:—

When examining algæ under the microscope, we notice the spaces which separate the streaks ornamenting the silicious covering of these various organisms, and it is explained that they are formed by hexagons visible only when we examine the object with a powerful microscope. “For a long time,” says M. Nachet, “I occupied myself with the examination of the hexagonal appearance of the points constituting the streaks. Why should these hexagons show themselves, and how could they be other than the visible base of small pyramids piled very closely one on the other; and if this were the case, why were not the points of the little pyramids visible? Or, was the structure before me analogous to that of the eyes of insects? Then the carapace would be but a surface of perforated polygonal openings. This latter hypothesis was attractive enough, and would have explained many things; but some careful observations with very powerful object-glasses, quite free from blemishes, had shown me that these hexagons had round points, contrary to the descriptions of micrographs. These observations, corroborated by the micrographic photographs of Lackerbauer, the much-regretted designer, and by Colonels Woodward and Washington, left not the slightest doubt that it was necessary to discover why the eye persistently saw hexagons where there were circles. To elucidate this point, it was necessary to find some means of reproducing artificially what nature had accomplished with so much precision on the surfaces of algæ. After many fruitless attempts, I decided on making a trial of a stereotype plate covered with dots arranged in quincunxes, very close together” (figs. 132 and 133). “The result was more successful than I had hoped; the effect produced is exactly that of the arrangement of the so-called hexagons of the most beautiful of the algæ, the Pleurosigma angulata. If these stereotypes are examined with one eye only, we shall be immediately convinced that we have to do with hexagonal polygons.” It is useless to give any long exposition of a figure so clearly explanatory; it is simply an effect of the contrast and opposition of the black and white in the sensation of the retina. This effect is particularly striking with fig. 134, a negative photograph heliographically engraved according to fig. 133. In this the white points seem to destroy the black spaces, and to approach each other tangentially, and the irradiation is so intense that the white circles appear much larger than the black of fig. 133, although of the same diameter. There are in these facts many points which may interest not only students of micrography, but also artists. As to the algæ, the origin of this investigation, it remains to be discovered if these circles which cover their silicious carapace are the projection of small hemispheres, or the section of openings made in the thick covering. Certain experiments, however, seem to prove that they are hemispheres, and the theory is also confirmed by a microscopic photograph from Lackerbauer’s collection, magnified 3,000 diameters, in which a black central point is seen in the centre of each circle, a certain reflection of the luminous source reproduced in the focus of each of the small demi-spheres which constitute the ornament of the algæ. The microscope, which has progressively shown first the streaks, then the hexagons, and then the round points, will surely clear up the point some day or other.

Mr. Silvanus P. Thompson, Professor of Physics at University College, Bristol, has recently presented the French Society of Physical Science with a curious example of optical illusion, the true cause of which is not clearly known, but which we may compare with other facts made known some time ago, of which no precise explanation has been given. Let us first consider in what the effect discovered by Mr. S. P. Thompson consists, according to the description that has been given of it by M. C. M. Gariel; the illustrations here given will also allow of our verifying the truth of the statements.

The first illustration consists of a series of concentric circles of about the width of a millimetre, separated by white intervals of the same size (fig. 135). These dimensions are not absolute; they vary with the distance, and may even be a few inches in width if it is desired to show the phenomenon to a rather numerous auditory. If we hold the design in the hand, and give it a twirl by a little movement of the wrist, the circle appears to turn round its centre, and the rotation is in the same direction, and is equally swift; that is to say, the circle appears to accomplish a complete turn, whilst the cardboard really accomplishes one in the same direction. For the second effect we draw a dark circle, in the interior of which are placed a number of indentations at regular intervals (fig. 136). Operating in the same manner as described above, this notched wheel appears to turn round its centre, but this time in a different direction from the real movement. In this, however, as in the other design, the effect is more satisfactory if we do not look directly at it; the movements also are particularly striking in combinations such as that represented in fig. 137, in which the multiplicity of circles does not allow us to fix one specially. We may add that the same effects may be obtained with eccentric wheels, or even with other curves than circles. By means of a photograph on glass, Mr. Thompson has been able to reflect these designs on a screen where they were obtained on a large scale; a circular movement was communicated to the photographic plate, so that the design moved in a circular manner on the screen, and in this case also there existed the illusion that every circle seemed turning round its centre. And what is the explanation of these curious effects? Mr. Thompson does not believe (and we share his opinion) that the faculty possessed by the retina of preserving images during a certain time (persistence of impressions on the retina) can entirely explain these phenomena. Without desiring to formulate a decided theory, Mr. Thompson is of opinion that we may class these facts with others which have been known for some time, and that perhaps it is necessary to attribute to the eye some new faculty which may explain the whole at once.

Brewster and Adams have described phenomena which are equally curious, the principal of which we will describe, adding also some analogous investigations due to Mr. Thompson. The result seems to be that there exists in the eye a badly-defined purpose of nature, which in a certain way compensates (Brewster) for the real phenomenon, because it has a contrary effect, which will continue for some time after the cessation of the phenomena, and which gives by itself a sensation contrary to that which the real movement would have produced. Thus, after having fixed our eyes for two or three minutes on a rushing waterfall, if we suddenly turn our glance on the adjacent rocks, the latter appear to move from top to bottom. It is not a question here of the effect of the relative movement to be observed on regarding simultaneously the falling water and the rocks; if one can succeed in abstracting oneself to such an extent that the water appears motionless, the rocks appear to take a contrary movement. In the phenomenon we describe there is no simultaneous comparison; the eyes are turned successively first on the water, and then on the rocks. In a rapid river, such as the Rhine above the fall at Schaffhausen, the stream is not equally swift in every part, and the current is noticeably more rapid in the middle of the river than near the banks. If we look fixedly at the centre of the stream, and then suddenly turn our eyes towards the banks, it will appear as though the river were flowing back towards its source. This kind of compensation does not only produce an apparent displacement, but also changes in size. When travelling at great speed in a railway train, the objects of the surrounding country as one flies by them gradually appear smaller and smaller. If, when this occurs, we suddenly remove our eyes to the interior of the railway carriage, and fix them on immovable objects, such as the sides of the compartment, or the faces of our travelling companions, the images on the retina will really preserve the same size, and yet the objects will appear larger. Such are some of the interesting facts among those discovered by Mr. Thompson; and though we do not intend to push the inquiry further, we think it may not be without interest to describe here another illusion of that organ whose properties are in every way so curious and remarkable.

Another experiment to show the existence of impressions received by the retina can be made with the figure above (138). If the gaze be fixed upon the dark spot in the centre of the white figure for about half a minute, and the eyes then directed to the ceiling, or a sheet of white paper, the white figure will be reproduced in black. This result is based upon the principle of complementary colours. A red design, for instance, will be reproduced in green.

There is a dark spot in every human eye—that is, a spot which is insensible to light. The eye is generally regarded as a perfect instrument, but it is not yet so by any means. One of our great philosophers remarked that if an instrument were sent home to him so full of errors he would feel justified in returning it to the optician. But the eye has its dark place, the punctum cæcum, and it can be discovered by covering the left eye with the hand, and holding the present page at arm’s length with the other. Then fix the gaze on the small cross in the picture, and bring the book close up. At a little distance the white ball will disappear from the page (fig. 139).

The illustration (fig. 140) shows us a very curious optical illusion, and one very easy to practise. Roll up a sheet of paper, and look through it, as through a telescope, with the right eye, keeping both eyes open. Then place the left hand open palm towards you against the roll of paper, you will then appear to be looking through a hole in your left hand. Sometimes the effect is produced without holding up the other hand to the roll, as shown in fig. 140.

Among optical illusions there are a great number that may be produced by means of mirrors. The divided telescope is an example. The apparatus, raised on a firm stand, allows of one apparently seeing an object through a stone or other opaque object, as shown in fig. 141. The illustration shows the arrangement of the apparatus. The observer, looking through it, plainly perceives the object through the glass; the image is reflected four times before reaching his eye, by means of small mirrors concealed in the instrument.

Convex or concave mirrors distort images in a singular manner, and produce very interesting effects. Anamorphoses constitute particular objects belonging specially to the class of experiments relating to cylindrical mirrors. They are images made according to determined rules, but so distorted that when regarding them fixedly we can only distinguish confused strokes. When they are seen reflected in the curved mirrors, they present, on the contrary, a perfectly regular appearance. Fig. 142 exhibits an Anamorphosis made by a cylindrical mirror. It will be seen that the confused image of the horizontal paper is reflected in the cylindrical mirror, producing the figure of a juggler. It is easy to contrive similar designs one’s-self; and comical mirrors may also be employed which produce particular effects of a no less interesting kind. The next illustration is of a set of figures which in a cylindrical mirror look like the ten of hearts (fig. 143).

One of the most remarkable applications of mirrors in amusing experiments is undoubtedly that of the severed and talking head. A few years back this trick obtained considerable success in Paris and a number of other towns. The spectators beheld a small space set apart, in which was placed a table on three legs; on this table was a human head, placed in cloth on a dish. The head moved its eyes and spoke; it evidently belonged to a man whose body was completely hidden. The spectators thought they saw an empty space beneath the table, but the body of the individual who was really seated there was concealed by two glasses placed at an inclination of 45° to the walls on the right and left. The whole was arranged in such a manner that the reflection of the walls coincided with the visible part of the wall at the back of the room. The three walls were painted in one colour, and a subdued light increased the illusion, the effect of which was remarkable (fig. 144).

The spectres designed by Robin also attracted considerable public attention within recent times. They were images formed by the medium of transparent glass. Glass panes often produce the phenomenon of spectres. In the evening, when it is dark out of doors, it is easy to prove that the reflection of objects in a lighted room can be reproduced behind the window panes by reason of the darkness outside. If we approach the window pane, we see also the real objects outside, a balcony, tree, etc. These real objects mingle with the reflected image, and combine to produce very curious effects. In this way M. Robin has contrived the effects of the theatre. He throws on the stage the reflection of a person dressed as a Zouave, and he himself, armed with a sabre, stabs the spectre through the body. A great number of other singular effects have been obtained in the same manner. Pepper’s Ghost was managed in this way.

Within recent times, images produced in a similar way have been utilized to facilitate the study of drawing. A piece of glass is fixed vertically on a black board (fig. 146). A model to copy from is placed on one side of the piece of glass, and is arranged so that the visual ray passes obliquely through the glass, and we perceive the reflection of the design very clearly on the other side. It is then very easily reproduced with a pencil on a sheet of white paper by tracing the outlines.

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Chapter XIII

VISION—THE EYE—THE STEREOSCOPE—SPECTRUM ANALYSIS—THE SPECTROSCOPE—THE TELESCOPE AND MICROSCOPE—PHOTOGRAPHY—DISSOLVING VIEWS—LUMINOUS PAINT.

The eye and vision are such important subjects to all of us that we may be excused for saying something more concerning phenomena connected with them, and the instruments we use for assisting them. We do not propose to write a treatise upon the physiology of vision, for we know the image in the eye is produced physically in the same manner as the image in a camera obscura. In the eye the sides of the box are represented by the sclerotic (see chap. x. fig. 95); the dark inner surface has its parallel in the pigment of the choroid; the opening in the box in the pupil of the eye; the convex lens in the crystalline and the cornea; and the retina receives the image. But why we see—beyond the fact that we do see—no one can explain. Science is dumb on the subject. Thought and consciousness elude our grasp; and, as Professor Tyndall says on this subject, “we stand face to face with the incomprehensible.”

But there are many interesting facts connected with our vision which may be plainly described. Some people are obliged to carry an object (or a book) to within ten inches of the eye to see it distinctly; and a person who does not possess convergent power of the eye will have to move it farther off, or use convex glasses; while a “near-sighted” person, whose eyes are too quickly convergent, will use concave glasses to bring the object near to the eye.

There is but one small place in the retina of the eye which admits of perfect vision. This, the most sensitive portion, is called the “yellow spot,” and vision becomes more and more indistinct from this point towards the circumference. This can be proved by any one; for in reading we are obliged to carry our eyes from word to word, and backwards and forwards along the lines of print. Another very important element in our vision is the contraction and enlargement of the iris around the pupil. In cases where strong light would only dazzle us the iris expands, and the pupil is contracted to a sufficient size to accommodate our vision. At night, or in a darkened room, the pupil is enlarged. This change will account for our not being immediately able to see objects when we have passed from darkness to great light, or vice versâ. The iris must have time to accommodate itself to the light.

Now, outside the small space of perfect vision above mentioned, there is a circle of considerable extent, called the “field of vision.” In man this field, when the eyes are fixed, subtends an angle of about 180°, because beyond that the rays cannot enter the pupil of the eye. But in the lower animals, the fish and birds,—notably the ostrich,—the field of vision is much more extensive, because the pupils are more prominent, or the eyes are set more towards the sides of the head. The ostrich can see behind him, and fish can see in any direction without apparent limit. Man can only see indistinctly; and though he can move his eyes rapidly, he can see distinctly but a small portion of any object at a time, yet he sees with both eyes simultaneously a single object, because the two lines of vision unite at a single point, and as the two images cover each other we perceive only one image. Beyond or within this point of meeting the vision is indistinct, but the angle of convergence is always varied according to the distance of the object. If we hold up a penholder in front of us, and in a line with any other defined object,—say an ink-bottle,—we can see the penholder distinctly, and the ink-bottle indistinctly, as two images. If we then look at the ink-bottle we shall see it single, while the penholder will appear double, but with imperfect outlines.

Again, if we look at a box both eyes will see it equally well, but the right eye will see a little more on its right side, and the left eye on the left. It is on this principle that the Stereoscope is constructed. Sir Charles Wheatstone was the inventor, and the instrument may be thus described:—Two pictures are taken by photography—one as the landscape is seen by the right eye, the other as it is viewed by the left; the points of view thus differing slightly. When both eyes are simultaneously applied to the instrument the view is seen exactly as it would appear to the beholder at the actual place it represents. The views are taken singly; one side at one time, and another after, as in the camera (fig. 148). A is the first view; B is kept dark; C is the shutter for A. There are Reflecting and Refracting Stereoscopes. In the former a mirror reflects the image into each eye; in the latter the views are pasted on a card, side by side, and looked at through prismatic lenses. The principles of Binocular Vision have been applied to the Microscope.

In foregoing chapters we have given many examples with diagrams of the temporary impressions made upon the retina of the eye. It is a fact that a wheel revolving at a great rate will appear to be standing still when suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning, because the eye has not time to take in the motion in the instant of time, for the spokes of the wheel are not moving fast enough to convey the impression of motion in that half second to the eye; yet the perfect outline of the wheel is distinctly visible.

Indeed, distinct vision can be exercised in a very small fraction of a second. It was calculated by Professor Rood, and proved by experiment, that forty billionths of a second is sufficient time for the eye to distinguish letters on a printed page. It this instance the illuminating power was an electric spark from a Leyden Jar.

We have remarked upon the distinctness with which we can see an object when we direct our gaze upon it, and this appears a self-evident proposition; but have any of our readers remarked the curious fact that when they want to see a faint and particular star in the sky it will at once disappear when they gaze at it? The best way to see such very faint orbs as this is to look away from them,—a little to one side or the other,—and then the tiny point will become visible again to the eye. There is also a degree of phosphorescence in the eye, which any one who receives a blow upon that organ will readily admit. Even a simple pressure on the closed lid will show us a circle of light and “colours like a peacock’s tail,” as the great Newton expressed it. There are many occasions in which light is perceived in the eye—generally the result of muscular action; and the Irish term to “knock fire out of my eye” is founded upon philosophical facts.

We are many of us aware of “spots” on our eyes when our digestion is out of order, and the inability of the eye to see figures distinctly in a faint light—within a proper seeing distance, too—has often given rise to the “ghost.” These shadowy forms are nothing more than affections of the eye, and, as well remarked in Brewster’s Letters on Natural Magic, “are always white because no other colour can be seen.” The light is not sufficiently strong to enable the person to see distinctly; and as the eye passes from side to side, and strives to take in the figure, it naturally seems shadowy and indistinct, and appears to move as our eyes move. “When the eye dimly descries an inanimate object whose different parts reflect different degrees of light, its brighter parts may enable the spectator to keep up a continued view of it; but the disappearance and reappearance of its fainter parts, and the change of shape which ensues, will necessarily give it the semblance of a living form; and if it occupies a position which is unapproachable, and where animate objects cannot find their way, the mind will soon transfer to it a supernatural existence. In like manner a human figure shadowed forth in a feeble twilight may undergo similar changes, and after being distinctly seen while it is in a situation favourable for receiving and reflecting light, it may suddenly disappear in a position before and within the reach of the observer’s eye; and if this evanescence takes place in a path or roadway where there is no sideway by which the figure could escape, it is not easy for an ordinary mind to efface the impression which it cannot fail to receive.” This will account for many so-called “ghosts.”

Accidental colours, or ocular spectra, are, so to speak, illusions, and differently-coloured objects will, when our gaze is turned from them, give us different “spectra” or images. For instance, a violet object will, when we turn to a sheet of white paper, give us a yellow “spectrum”; orange will be blue; black and white will change respectively; red will become a blue-green. From a very strong white light the accidental colours will vary.

The Solar Spectrum is the name given to the coloured band formed by the decomposition of a beam of light into its elementary colours, of which there are seven. This is an easy experiment. A ray of light can be admitted into a darkened room through a hole in the shutter, and thus admitted will produce a white spot on the screen opposite, as at g in the diagram (fig. 149). If we interpose a prism—a triangular piece of glass—the “drop” of a chandelier will do—we cause it to diverge from its direct line, and it will produce a longer streak of light lower down. This streak will exhibit the prismatic colours, or the “colours of the rainbow”; viz., red (at the top), orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo (blue), and violet last. These are the colours of the Solar Spectrum. The white light is thus decomposed, and it is called mixed light, because of the seven rays of which it is composed. These rays can be again collected and returned to the white light by means of a convex lens.

“White light,” said Sir Isaac Newton, “is composed of rays differently refrangible,” and as we can obtain the colours of the rainbow from white light, we can, by painting them on a circular plate and turning it rapidly round, make the plate appear white. Thus we can prove that the seven colours make “white” when intermingled. But Newton (1675) did not arrive at the great importance of his experiment. He made a round hole in the shutter, and found that the various colours overlapped each other. But, in 1802, Dr. Wollaston improved on this experiment, and by admitting the light through a tiny slit in the wood, procured an almost perfect spectrum of “simple” colours, each one perfectly distinct and divided by black lines.

But twelve years later, Professor Fraunhofer made a chart of these lines, which are still known by his name. Only, instead of the 576 he discovered, there are now thousands known to us! To Fraunhofer’s telescope Mr. Simms added a collimating lens, and so the Spectroscope was begun; and now we use a number of prisms and almost perfect instruments, dispersing the light through each. We have here an illustration of a simple Spectroscope, which is much used for chemical analysis (fig. 150).

In the spectrum we have long and short waves of light, as we have long and short (high and low) waves in music, called notes. The long or low notes are as the red rays, the high notes as the blue waves of light. (Here we have another instance of the similarity between light and sound.) But suppose we shut out the daylight and substitute an artificial light. If we use a lamp burning alcohol with salt (chloride of sodium), the spectrum will only consist of two yellow bands, all the other colours being absent. With lithium we obtain only two, one orange and one red. From this we deduce the fact that different substances when burning produce different spectra; and although a solid may (and platinum will) give all seven colours in its spectrum, others, as we have seen, will only give us a few, the portion of the spectrum between the colours being black. Others are continuous, and transversed by “lines” or narrow spaces devoid of light; such is the spectrum of the sun, and by careful and attentive calculation and observation we can get an approximate idea of the matter surrounding the heavenly bodies.

We have said there are lines crossing the spectrum transversely; these are called Fraunhofer’s lines, after the philosopher who studied them; they were, however, discovered by Wollaston. These lines are caused by light from the lower portion of the sun passing through the metallic vapours surrounding the orb in a state of incandescence, such as sodium, iron, etc. One of Fraunhofer’s lines, a black double line known as D in the yellow portion of the spectrum, was known to occupy the same place as a certain luminous line produced by sodium compounds in the flame of a spirit lamp. This gave rise to much consideration, and at length Kirchkoff proved that the sodium vapour which gives out yellow light can also absorb that light; and this fact, viz., that every substance, which at a certain temperature emits light of a certain refrangibility, possesses at that temperature the power to absorb that same light. So the black lines are now considered the reversal of luminous lines due to the incandescent vapours by which the sun is surrounded. Thus the presence of an element can be found from black or luminous lines, so the existence of terrestrial elements in celestial bodies has been discovered by means of preparing charts of the lines of the terrestrial elements, and comparing them with the lines of stella spectra.

We have supposed the beam of light to enter through a slit in the shutter, and fall upon a screen or sheet. The solar spectrum shown by the passage of the beam through a prism is roughly as below—

Fraunhofer substituted a telescope for the lens and the screen, and called his instrument a SPECTROSCOPE. He then observed the lines, which are always in the same position in the solar spectrum. The principal of them he designated as A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H. The first three are in the red part of the spectrum; one in the yellow, then one in the green; F comes between green and blue, G in the indigo-blue, and H in the violet. But these by no means exhaust the lines now visible. Year by year the study of Spectrum Analysis has been perfected more and more, and now we are aware of more than three thousand “lines” existing in the solar spectrum. The spectra of the moon and planets contain similar dark lines as are seen in the solar spectrum, but the fixed stars show different lines. By spectrum analysis we know the various constituents of the sun’s atmosphere, and we can fix the result of our observations made by means of the Spectroscope in the photographic camera. By the more recent discoveries great studies have been made in “solar chemistry.”

What can we do with the Spectroscope, or rather, What can we not do? By Spectroscopy we can find out, and have already far advanced upon our path of discovery, “the measure of the sun’s rotation, the speed and direction of the fierce tornados which sweep over its surface, and give rise to the ‘maelstroms’ we term ‘sunspots,’ and the mighty alps of glowing gas that shoot far beyond the visible orb, ever changing their form and size; even the temperature and pressure of the several layers and their fluctuations are in process of being defined and determined.” This is what science is doing for us, and when we have actually succeeded in ascertaining the weather at various depths in the atmosphere of the sun, we shall be able to predict our own, which depends so much upon the sun. Last year (1880) Professor Adams, in his address to the British Association, showed that magnetic disturbances, identical in kind, took place at places widely apart simultaneously. He argues that the cause of these identical disturbances must be far removed from the earth.

“If,” he says, “we imagine the masses of iron, nickel, and magnesium in the sun to retain even in a slight degree their magnetic power in a gaseous state, we have a sufficient cause for all our magnetic changes. We know that masses of metal are ever boiling up from the lower and hotter levels of the sun’s atmosphere to the cooler upper regions, where they must again form clouds to throw out their light and heat, and to absorb the light and heat coming from the hotter lower regions; then they become condensed, and are drawn back again towards the body of the sun, so forming those remarkable dark spaces or sunspots by their down rush to their former levels. In these vast changes we have abundant cause for those magnetic changes which we observe at the same instant at distant points on the surface of the earth.” So we are indebted to the Spectroscope for many wonderful results—the constitution of the stars, whether they are solid or gaseous, and many other wonders.

The manner in which we have arrived at these startling conclusions is not difficult to be understood, but some little explanation will be necessary.

The existence of dark lines in the solar spectrum proves that certain rays of solar light are absent, or that there is less light. When we look through the prism we perceive the spaces or lines, and we can produce these ourselves by interposing some substance between the slit in the shutter before mentioned and the prism. The vapour of sodium will answer our purpose, and we shall find a dark line in the spectrum, the bright lines being absorbed by the vapour. We can subject a substance to any temperature we please, and into any condition—solid, liquid, or gaseous; we can also send the light the substance may give out through certain media, and we can photograph the spectrum given out under all conditions. The distance of the source of the light makes no difference. So whether it be the sun, or a far-distant star, we can tell by the light sent to us what the physical condition of the star may be. It was discovered in 1864 that the same metallic body may give different spectra; for instance, the spectrum might be a band of light,—like the rainbow,—or a few isolated colours; or again, certain detached lines in groups. The brightness of the spectrum lines will change with the depth of the light-giving source, or matter which produces it.

We have become aware by means of the Spectroscope that numerous metals known to us on earth are in combustion in the sun, and new ones have thus been discovered. In the immense ocean of gas surrounding the sun there are twenty-two elements as given by Mr. Lockyer, including iron, sodium, nickel, barium, zinc, lead, calcium, cobalt, hydrogen, potassium, cadmium, uranium, strontium, etc. Not only is the visible spectrum capable of minute examination, but, as in the case of the heat spectrum already mentioned when speaking of Calorescence, the light spectrum has been traced and photographed far beyond the dark space after the blue and violet rays, seven times longer than the visible solar spectrum—a spectrum of light invisible to our finite vision. Although a telescope has been invented for the examination of these “ultra violet” rays, no human eye can see them. But—and here science comes in—when a photographic plate is put in place of the eye, the tiniest star can be seen and defined. Even the Spectroscope at length fails, because light at such limits has been held to be “too coarse-grained for our purposes”! “Light,” says a writer on this subject “we can then no longer regard as made of smooth rays; we have to take into account—and to our annoyance—the fact that its ‘long levelled rules’ are rippled, and its texture, as it were, loose woven”!

Twenty years ago Professors Kirchkoff and Bunsen applied Fraunhofer’s method to the examination of coloured flames of various substances, and since then we have been continually investigating the subject; yet much remains to be learnt of Spectrum Analysis, and Spectroscopy has still much to reveal. From Newton’s time to the present our scientists have been slowly but surely examining with the Spectroscope the composition of spectra, and the Spectroscope is now the greatest assistant we possess.

“Spectrum Analysis, then, teaches us the great fact that solids and liquids give out continuous spectra, and vapours and gases give out discontinuous spectra instead of an unbroken light” (Lockyer). We have found out that the sunlight and moonlight are identical, that the moon gives us spectrum like a reflection of the former, but has no atmosphere, and that comets are but gases or vapours. The most minute particles of a grain of any substance can be detected to the millionth fraction. The 1/1000 of a grain of blood can be very readily distinguished in a stain after years have passed. The very year of a certain vintage of wine has been told by means of “absorption,” or the action of different bodies on light in the spectrum. It is now easy, “by means of the absorption of different vapours and different substances held in solution, to determine not only what the absorbers really are, but also to detect a minute quantity.” The application of this theory is due to Dr. Gladstone, who used hollow prisms filled with certain substances, and so thickened the “absorption lines.” By these lines, or bands, with the aid of the Spectrum Microscope, most wonderful discoveries have been made, and will continue to be made. We will close this portion of the subject with a brief description of the Spectroscope in principle.

The instrument consists of two telescopes arranged with two object-glasses on a stand (fig. 150). A narrow slit is put in place of the eye-piece of one, the arrangement admitting of the slit being made smaller or larger by means of screws. The glass to which the slit is attached is called the collimating lens. The light, at the end of the slit seen from the other telescope, being separated by the prisms between the two telescopes, will produce the spectrum. The Spectroscope is enclosed, so that no exterior light shall interfere with the spectra the student wishes to observe. This merely indicates the principle, not the details, of the Spectroscope, which vary in different instruments.

We may now pass from the Spectroscope to the Telescope and the Microscope, instruments to which we are most largely indebted for our knowledge of our surroundings in earth, air, and water.

The word Telescope is derived from the Greek tele, far, and skopein, to see; and the instrument is based upon the property possessed by a convex lens or concave mirror, of converging to a focus the rays of light falling on it from any object, and at that point or focus forming an image of the object. The following diagram will illustrate this. Let VW be a lens, and AB an object between the glass, and F the focus. The ray, A_c_, is so refracted as to appear to come from a. The ray from b likewise appears in a similar way, and a magnified image, ab, is the result (fig. 152).

The ordinary Telescope consists of an object-glass and an eye-lens, with two intermediates to bring the object into an erect position. A lens brings it near to us, and a magnifier enlarges it for inspection. We will now give a short history of the Telescope and its improved construction.

Roger Bacon was supposed to have had some knowledge of the Telescope, for in 1551 it was written: “Great talke there is of a glass he made at Oxford, in which men see things that were don.” But a little later, Baptista Porta found out the power of the convex lens to bring objects “nearer.” It was, however, according to the old tale, quite by an accident that the Telescope was discovered about the year 1608.

In Middleburg, in Holland, lived a spectacle-maker named Zachary Jansen, and his sons, when playing with the lenses in the shop, happened to fix two of them at the proper distance, and then to look through both. To the astonishment of the boys, they perceived an inverted image of the church weathercock much nearer and much larger than usual. They at once told their father what they had seen. He fixed the glasses in a tube, and having satisfied himself that his sons were correct, thought little more about the matter. This is the story as told, but there is little doubt that for the first Telescope the world was indebted either to Hans Lippersheim or Joseph Adriansz, the former a spectacle-maker of Middleburg; and in October 1608, Lippersheim presented to the Government three instruments, with which he “could see things at a distance.” Jansen came after this. The report of the invention soon spread, and Galileo, who was then in Venice, eagerly seized upon the idea, and returning to Padua with some lenses, he managed to construct a telescope, and began to study the heavens. This was in 1609. Galileo’s Tube became celebrated, and all the first telescopes were made with the concave eye-lens. Rheita, a monk, made a binocular telescope, as now used in our opera- and field-glasses approximately.

But the prismatic colours which showed themselves in the early telescopes were not got rid of, nor was it till 1729 that Hall, by studying the mechanism of the eye, managed a combination of lenses free from colour. Ten years before (in 1718) Hadley had established the Reflector Telescope; Herschel made his celebrated forty-foot “reflector” in 1789.

However, to resume. In 1747, Euler declared that it was quite possible to construct an arrangement of lenses so as to obtain a colourless image, but he was at first challenged by John Dollond. The latter, however, was afterwards induced to make experiments with prisms of crown and flint glass. He then tried lenses, and with a concave lens of flint, and a convex lens of crown, he corrected the colours. The question of proper curvature was finally settled, and the “Achromatic” Telescope became an accomplished fact.

There are two classes of Telescopes—the reflecting and refracting. Lord Rosse’s is an instance of the former. Mr. Grubb’s immense instrument in Dublin is a refractor.

The Microscope has been also attributed to Zacharias Jansen, and Drebbel, in 1619, possessed the instrument in London, but it was of little or no use. The lens invented by Hall, as already mentioned, gave an impetus to the Microscope. In the simple Microscope the objects are seen directly through the lens or lenses acting as one. The compound instrument is composed of two lenses (or a number formed to do duty as two), an eye-lens, and an object-lens. Between these is a “stop” to restrain all light, except what is necessary to view the object distinctly. The large glass near the object bends the rays on to the eyeglass, and a perfect magnified image is perceived. We annex diagrams, from which the construction will be readily understood.

We have in the previous chapter mentioned the effect of light upon the eye and its direction, and when an object is placed very near the eye we know it cannot be distinctly seen; a magnified image is thrown upon the retina, and the divergency of the rays prevents a clear image being perceived. But if a small lens of a short “focal length” be placed in front of the eye, having PQ for its focus, the rays of light will be parallel, or very nearly so, and will as such produce “distinct vision,” and the image will be magnified at pq. In the Compound Refracting Microscope, BAB is the convex lens, near which an object, PQ, is placed a little beyond its focal length. An inverted image, pq, will then be formed. This image is produced in the convex lens, bab′, and when the rays are reflected out they are parallel, and are distinctly seen. So the eye of the observer at the point E will see a magnified image of the object at PQ brought up to pq (fig. 155).

Sir Isaac Newton suggested the Reflecting Microscope, and Dr. Wollaston and Sir David Brewster improved the instrument called the “Periscopic Microscope,” in which two hemispherical lenses were cemented together by the plane surfaces, and having a “stop” between them to limit the aperture. Then the “Achromatic” instrument came into use, and since then the Microscope has gradually attained perfection.

We have so frequently mentioned lenses that it may be as well to say something about them. Lenses may be spherical, double-convex, plane-convex, plane-concave, double-concave, and concave-convex. Convex lenses bring the parallel lines which strike them to a focus, as we see in the “burning-glass.” The concave or hollow lens appears as in fig. 156. The rays that follow it parallel to its axis are refracted, and as if they came from a point F in the diagram. But converging rays falling on it emerge in a parallel direction as above, or diverge as in fig. 158.

The use of spectacles to long or short-sighted people is a necessity, and the lenses used vary. The eye has usually the capacity of suiting itself to viewing objects—its accommodation, as it is termed—near or far. But when the forepart of the eye is curved, and cannot adapt itself to distant objects, the person is said to be short-sighted. In long sight the axis of the eyeball is too short, and the focus falls beyond the retina; in short sight it is too long. In the diagrams herewith fig. 159 shows by the dotted lines the position of the retina in long sight, and fig. 160 in short sight, the clear lines showing in each case the perfectly-formed eye. For long sight and old sight the double-convex glass is used, for short sight the double-concave (fig. 162). We know the burning-glass gives us a small image of the sun as it converges the rays to its focus. But lenses will do more than this, and in the PHOTOGRAPHIC CAMERA we find great interest and amusement.

Photography (or writing by light) depends upon the property which certain preparations possess of being blackened by exposure to light while in contact with matter. By an achromatic arrangement of lenses the camera gives us a representation of the desired object Fig. 163 shows the image on the plate, and figs. 164 and 165 the arrangement of lenses.

To Porta, the Neapolitan physician, whose name we have already mentioned more than once, is due the first idea of the Photographic Camera. He found that if light was admitted through a small aperture, objects from which rays reached the hole would be reflected on the wall like a picture. To this fact we are indebted for the CAMERA OBSCURA, which receives the picture upon a plane surface by an arrangement of lenses. In fact, Porta nearly arrived at the Daguerreotype process. He thought he could teach people to draw by following the focussed picture with a crayon, but he could not conquer the aërial perspective.

So the camera languished till 1820, when Wedgwood and Sir Humphrey Davy attempted to obtain some views with nitrate of silver, but they became obliterated when exposed to the daylight.

As early as 1814, however, M. Niepce had made a series of experiments in photography, and subsequently having heard that M. Daguerre was turning his attention to the same subject, he communicated with him. In 1827 a paper was read before the Royal Society, and in 1829 a partnership deed was drawn up between Daguerre and Niepce for “copying engravings by photography.” Daguerre worked hard, and at length succeeded in obtaining a picture by a long process, to which, perhaps, some of our readers are indebted for their likenesses forty years ago. By means of iodine evaporated on a metal plate covered with “gold-yellow,” and exposing the plate then in a second box to mercurial vapour, he marked the image in the camera, and then he immersed the plate in hyposulphate of soda, and was able to expose the image obtained to daylight.

But the mode now in use is the “collodion” process. We have all seen the photographer pouring the iodized collodion on the plate, and letting the superfluous liquid drain from a corner of the glass. When it is dry the glass-plate is dipped into a solution of nitrate of silver, and then in a few minutes the glass is ready. The focus is then arranged, and the prepared plate conveyed in a special slide—to keep it from the light—to the camera. When the “patient” is ready, the covering of the lens is removed, and the light works the image into the sensitive plate. The impression is then “brought up,” and when developed is washed in water, and after by a solution which dissolves all the silver from the parts not darkened by the light. Thus the negative is obtained and printed from in the usual manner.

Instantaneous photography is now practised with great success. An express train, or the movements of a horse at full speed, can thus be taken in a second or less. These results are obtained by using prepared plates, and the “emulsion process,” as it is called, succeeds admirably. The mode of preparation is given in a late work upon the subject, and the photographic plates may also be obtained ready for use. Gelatine and water, mixed with bromide of ammonium, nitrate of silver, and carbonate of ammonium, mixed with certain proportions of water, form the “emulsion.” We need not go into all the details here. Information can easily be obtained from published works, and as the plates can be purchased by amateurs, they will find that the best way.

Aside from the art interest in the new plates is quite another, that springs from the fact that it is now possible to take pictures of men, animals, and machinery in rapid motion, thus enabling us to view them in a way that would be impossible with the unaided eye. The first experiments in this direction were applied to the movements of a horse moving at full speed. The pictures, taken in series, showed that he performed muscular actions that were not before comprehended or even imagined. These pictures at the time attracted great attention, and instantaneous pictures have been since taken of dancers in a ball-room, of vessels and steam-boats in rapid movement, of all kinds of animals in motion, and of machinery in operation. As the pictures represent the movements at one instant of time, they give, as it were, a fixed view of a motion, precisely as if it were suddenly arrested in full action. In the case of animals, the motions of the nostrils are represented in the most singular manner, and the spokes of a steam-boat’s paddle-wheel are shown apparently perfectly still while the spray and waves appear in active motion, or, rather, as they would look if they could be instantly frozen. It is clear the new process and pictures will open a wide and instructive field in art and in the study of mechanical action.

While on the subject of Photography we may mention a very ingenious little apparatus called a SCENOGRAPH, the invention of Dr. Candize. It is really a pocket-camera, and is so easily manipulated that it will be found a most pleasant and useful holiday companion. Any one may obtain good results with it, and friends of ours have had occasion to put it in practice during a series of excursions, when it was found to answer in every instance.

The Scenograph is something like a common Stereoscope in outward appearance, and would, perhaps, be at first regarded as a mere toy, did not a more intimate acquaintance prove it a great acquisition, particularly to explorers and tourists. The tripod stand which supports the apparatus is, when not in actual use in that capacity, a very excellent walking-stick, in which the two other “legs” are carried. The instrument, as will be perceived from the illustration (fig. 166), is very handy. It produces pictures about the “cabinet” size, and the whole is so arranged that it can be packed and carried in the pocket with ease.

Photography, as a rule, necessitates a dark room or cabinet, and many preparations as we all know—a “messing” about with chemicals and considerable practice before we can become proficient; so it is not surprising that few amateurs take to it—they prefer to purchase the pictures. But in the new apparatus of which we are speaking, the glass plates are already prepared to receive the image. It is not at all necessary for the operator to stain his fingers and knuckles and nails with nitrate of silver, or any other “chemicals” whatever. He just inserts the plate in the Scenograph, and then his apparatus being steadily set up, he removes the covering from the lens. To develop the image (in the dusk of the evening or by candle-light) it is necessary to put some drops of ammonia in a saucer, breathe upon the plate so as to soften the collodion, and hold it above the ammonia, and then, under the influence of the vapour, the picture will appear. After this simple operation the picture will be found fixed for a lengthened period—practically indefinitely. Thus on the return of the pedestrian he can reproduce, at small expense, a whole series of little pictures faithfully representing his holiday tour. The illustration shows a small apparatus by which on thin plates small photographs can be taken and fixed till it is found desirable to enlarge them.

The Photophone, one of the most recent contributions to science, is an instrument which, in combination with the telephone principle, makes it possible to convey sounds by means of a ray of light, and by means of a quivering beam “to produce articulate speech at a distance. The success of the Photophone depends upon a rare element, selenium, which has its “electrical resistance” affected by light. Professor Adams demonstrated that the resistance of selenium was reduced just in proportion as the intensity of the light which was acting upon it. Here was the key to the Photophone as thought out by Professor Bell. He fancied that he might by means of his telephone produce sound if he could vary the intensity of the beam of light upon the selenium, which he connected with his telephone and battery.

The Photophone consists of a transmitter for receiving the voice and conveying it along the beam of light, and a receiver for taking the light and converting it into sound—the receiver being the telephone. There is a small mirror (silvered mica has been used) suspended freely for vibration. A lens is used to transmit to this the beam of light, and this beam is again reflected by another lens to the receiver, which consists of a reflector which has a cell of selenium in its focus, connected, as already stated, with the telephone and battery. The speaker stands behind the mirror, and the sound of his voice against the reverse side makes it vibrate in unison with the sounds uttered. The movements cause a quivering in the reflected beam, and this in its changing intensity acts on the selenium, which changes its resistance accordingly, and through the telephone gives forth a sound!

This is the apparently complicated but really simple, and at the same time wonderful, invention of Professor Bell. By the Photophone not only sounds but movements can be converted into sound; even the burning of a candle can be heard! The Photophone is still capable of improvement, and has not as yet arrived at its full development, for it is stated it can be made quite independent of a battery or telephone.

There are many phenomena connected with the Polarization of Light. This requires some notice at our hands. We know that a ray of ordinary light is supposed to be caused by vibrations of the highly attenuated medium, æther. These vibrations occur across the direction of the ray; but when they occur only in one plane the light is said to be “polarized.” Polarization means possessing poles (like a magnet); the polarized rays have “sides,” as Newton said, or, as explained by Dr. Whewell, “opposite properties in opposite directions, so exactly equal as to be capable of accurately neutralizing each other.” There are some crystals which possess the property of “double refraction,” and thus a ray of common light passing through such a crystal is divided into two polarized rays, taking different directions. One is refracted according to the usual laws of refraction; the other is not, and the planes of polarization are at right angles. It is difficult within the limits of this chapter to explain the whole theory of Polarization. In order to account for certain phenomena in optics, philosophers have assumed that rays possess polarity; and polarized light is light which has had the property of Polarization conferred upon it by reflection, refraction, or absorption. Common light has been compared to a round ruler, and polarized light to a flat ribbon. Huygens found out, when engaged upon the investigation of double refraction, that the rays of light, divided by passing through a crystal (a rhomb) of Iceland spar, possessed certain qualities. When he passed them through a second rhomb, he found that the brightness, relatively, of the rays depended upon the position of the second prism, and in some positions one ray disappeared entirely. The light had been reduced to vibrations in one plane. In 1808, Malus, happening to direct a double refracting prism to the windows then reflecting the sunset, found that as he turned the prism round, the ordinary image of the window nearly disappeared in two opposite positions; and in two other positions, at right angles, the “extraordinary” image nearly vanished. So he found that polarization was produced by reflection as well as by transmission. The differences between common and polarized light have been summed up by Mr. Goddard as follows:—

COMMON LIGHT POLARIZED LIGHT

“Is capable of reflection at “Is capable of reflection at oblique angles of incidence in oblique angles only in every position of the reflector. certain positions of the reflector.

“Will pass through a bundle of “Will only pass through such plates of glass in any position glasses when they are in in which they may be placed. certain positions.

“Will pass through a plate of “Will only pass in certain tourmaline, cut parallel to the positions, and in others axis of the crystal, in every will not pass at all.” position of the plate.”

The bundle of glass plates or the tourmaline plate is thus the test for polarized light, and is termed an analyzer.

The arrangement called a “Nichol’s prism,” made by cutting a prism of Iceland spar and uniting the halves with a cement, so that only one polarized ray can pass through it, is termed a Polarizer. It only permits one of the two rays produced by “double refraction” to pass, and the ray (as said above) will contain none but transverse vibrations. Polarized light will produce beautiful colours. The whole subject is very interesting to the scientist, but rather a difficult one for the general reader to understand.

Amongst the uses to which light has been put is that of a milk-tester. The LACTOSCOPE will show the quantity of butter contained in a certain quantity of milk, by diluting it till it displays a certain degree of transparency. There is another method, by the transmission of light.

The first test is obtained by means of a glass tube about nine inches long, closed at one end, and containing a small porcelain rod marked with black lines. A small quantity of milk is measured and placed in the tube. The black lines cannot at first be seen through the tube, but by adding water the milk is rendered transparent, and the black lines become visible. The surface of milk in the tube, by a graduated scale upon it, shows the percentage of butter.

The second method is not so simple. A short tube of tin, blackened on the inside, and supported upright, has an opening on one side, and opposite this, inside the tube, is a mirror placed at an angle of 45°. “By placing a lighted candle at a known distance opposite the opening, its light is reflected in the mirror and thrown upward through the tube. On top of the tube is placed a round vessel of glass or metal, closed at the bottom by a sheet of clear glass. The vessel is closed at the top by a cover having an opening in the centre, in which slides up and down a small tube closed at the bottom with glass, and having an eye-piece at the top. The milk to be tested is placed in this vessel on the top of the tin tube, so that the light of the candle reflected from the mirror passes upward through the milk. Then, by looking through the sliding tube and moving it up and down, a point may be found where the image of the candle in the mirror can be seen through the milk. This device depends, as will be seen, on observing the light transmitted through a film of milk, and the thickness of the film is the measure of the value of the milk. The movable tube contains a graduated scale, and by comparison of this with a printed table, the percentage of butter in the milk may be ascertained.”

In concluding this chapter we give a few hints for some pleasant relaxation for young people, which has many a time created amusement. The experiment consists in cutting out in paper or cardboard certain portions of a face or figure, as per the illustration herewith. Fig. 167 gives the card as cut with the scissors, and the two subsequent faces are the result of the same held at a less or greater distance from a screen. The illustrations (fig. 168) will assist those who wish to amuse children by making rabbits, etc., on the wall. The shadows will be seen perfectly thrown if the hands be carefully fixed near a good light.

We are all so familiar with the “Magic Lantern,” and the apparatus for dissolving views by an arrangement of lenses and manipulation of slides, that we need do no more than refer to them.

The various ghost illusions, etc., produced by indirect mirrors, have already been referred to, the ghost being merely the reflection of an individual seen through a sheet of glass between the spectators and the stage. The strong light throws a reflection from a parallel mirror lower down, and this reflected image can be made to appear amongst the real actors who are behind the plate-glass in full view of the audience, who are, however, ignorant of the existence of the glass screen.

For the winter evenings one may easily procure an apparatus for dissolving views by the oxy-hydrogen light. One, as shown in the illustration herewith (fig. 169), will answer every purpose, and by this double arrangement phantasmagoria may be produced, or a fairy tale may be illustrated. The effect of gradually-approaching night may be given to the picture by means of a special glass in the lower lanthorn. The apparatus is exhibited by means of a Drummond light, and is very simple, although a certain supply of gas is necessary for the performance. But this can be easily procured by an indiarubber tube, or in a bag supplied for the purpose. Almost any objects can be used, photographs, etc., etc., and many very comical arrangements can be made.

We have lately been reading a curious method of obtaining light from oyster-shells in a Trans-Atlantic magazine. We give an extract wherewith to close this chapter. The compound is “luminous paint.”

“It has been known that certain compounds of lime and sulphur had the property of absorbing light, and giving it out again when placed in the dark. A simple way to do this is to expose clean oyster-shells to a red heat for half an hour. When cold, the best pieces are picked out and packed with alternate layers of sulphur in a crucible, and exposed to a red heat for an hour. When cold, the mass is broken up, and the whitest pieces are placed in a clean glass bottle. On exposing the bottle to bright sunshine during the day, it is found that at night its contents will give out a pale light in the dark. Such a bottle filled more than a hundred years ago still gives out light when exposed to the sun, proving the persistency of the property of reproducing light. Very many experiments have been more recently made in this direction, and the light-giving property greatly enhanced. The chemicals, ground to a flour, may now be mixed with oils or water for paints, may be powdered on hot glass, and glass covered with a film of clear glass, or mixed with celluloid, papier-maché, or other plastic materials. As a paint, it may be applied to a diver’s dress, to cards, clock dials, sign-boards, and other surfaces exposed to sunlight during the day; the paint gives out a pale violet light at night sufficient to enable the objects to be readily seen in the dark. If the object covered with the prepared paint is not exposed to the sun, or if the light fades in the dark, a short piece of magnesium wire burned before it serves to restore the light-giving property.”

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XIV. SPECTRAL ILLUSIONS

A SPECTRE VISIBLE—CURIOUS ILLUSIONS—GHOSTS.

We have already given numerous examples of the effects produced by impressions on the retina by mechanical appliances. We can now in a short chapter speak of the cause of many spectral illusions, commonly supposed to be “ghosts” or “spirits.” That there are many “well-authenticated ‘ghost stories’” no one can doubt who has read the literature of the day; and we ourselves do not in any way desire to throw any doubt upon the existence of certain so-called “ghosts.” That appearances of some kind or another are seen by people we know. We ourselves have seen such, but we cannot say we believe in the popular ghost.

In ancient times mirrors were much employed by the so-called magicians, and in our day many wonderful ghost effects have been shown at the (late) Polytechnic Institution. Some people are believers in table-turning and spiritualism, and mesmerists still attract large audiences, and appear to possess extraordinary power over some individuals. But apparitions have been seen by people eminently worthy of credit. The experience of the learned Doctor, which appeared some months ago in the Athenæum, is a case in point. This narrative is concise and clear. The spectre was there. How did it get there? Was the “appearance” objective or subjective? Let us give an extract from the Reverend Doctor’s narrative, and comment upon it afterwards. We may premise that Dr. Jessopp had gone over to Lord Orford’s (Mannington Hall), and at eleven o’clock was busy writing in the library, and was “the only person downstairs.” We will give this ghost story in the Doctor’s own words. After taking up a certain volume—time about 1 a.m.:—

“I had been engaged on it about half an hour, and was beginning to think my work was drawing to a close, when, as I was actually writing, I saw a large white hand within a foot of my elbow. Turning my head, there sat a figure of a somewhat large man with his back to the fire, bending slightly over the table, and apparently examining the pile of books that I had been at work upon.”... After describing the appearance of the nocturnal visitor, Dr. Jessopp proceeds:—

“There he sat, and I was fascinated; afraid not of his staying, but lest he should go. Stopping in my writing I lifted my left hand from the paper, stretched it out to the pile of books, and moved the top one—my arm passed in front of the figure, and it vanished.”... Shortly after the figure appeared again, and “I was penning a sentence to address to him, when I discovered I did not dare to speak. I was afraid of the sound of my own voice! There he sat, and there sat I. I turned my head and finished writing. Having finished my task, I shut the book, and threw it on the table; it made a slight noise as it fell;—the figure vanished.”

Now here we have a perfectly plain narrative, clear and full. A ghost appeared; he is described distinctly. How can we account for the apparition? In the first place, someone might have played a trick, but that idea was put aside by Dr. Wilks, who attempted to explain the appearances. He went fully into the question, and as it bears upon our explanation of the reality of Spectral Illusions, we may condense his evidence. It will of course be conceded that all the usual objects seen by people are material, and the image of what we look at is formed upon the retina in the manner already explained. But all images upon the retina are not immediately observed; the impression may, to a certain extent, remain. Words are often impressed upon the brain,—words which we in our sober senses would never think of repeating,—and yet when we are delirious we give vent to these expressions, of whose very nature and meaning we are perfectly unconscious. It is, according to our reference (Dr. Wilks), “quite possible for the perceptive part of the brain to be thrown into an active condition quite independent of the normal stimulus conducted to it from the retina.” If, under these circumstances, an object be viewed independently, and, as it were, unconsciously, it is merely, we believe, a parallel to the impression of words before noted. Sound and light are governed by the same laws. In fevers we fancy we see all kinds of things which have no existence. In dreams we hear noises; and many a time people dreaming have been awakened by the report of a gun, or the ringing of a bell which had no material origin,—the nerves were excited, the “perceptive centre” of the brain was moved.

But if sight and hearing thus have their origin from the brain and not from without, there must have been some predisposing cause, some excitement to induce such a condition of things. “The impressions become abnormal and subjective,—the normal condition being objective,—the impression is received from without, and impressed upon the eye.

Now, let us consider the “ghost”! Lately there have been many instances brought forward of “spiritual” appearances, but we think nobody has ever seen a “material” ghost; yet on the other hand none of us have any knowledge of anything in the likeness of a ghost, or that has not a material basis which can bring forward an image on the retina! Therefore we are brought to the conclusion that apparitions are spectres emanating from within the brain, not from any outward manifestation, because it is within the experience of everybody that in bad health, or disordered digestive functions, images are produced in the brain and nerves of the eye.

These remarks have perhaps been made before in one form or other, but as much popular interest is always awakened by the supernatural, or what is supposed to be supernatural, we may go a little farther, and inquire how it was that the ghost seen by Dr. Jessopp disappeared when he raised his arm. Would any ghost be afraid of the Doctor extending his hand? The fact no doubt occurred as related. The explanation is that the narrator had been much impressed by a certain picture, which a correspondent soon identified as a portrait of “Parsons, the Jesuit Father.” The description given is that of the priest who was described by the Doctor in one of his books. The association of ideas in the library of a Norfolk house connected with the Walpoles, with whom Parsons had been a leader, gave rise, during a period of “forty winks” at midnight, to the spectre.

In the interesting letters written upon “Natural Magic” by Sir David Brewster, the subject of Spectral Illusions is treated at some length, and with undoubted authority. Sir David thought the subject worth discussing with reference to the illusions or spectres mentioned by Dr. Hibbert. Sir David Brewster gives his own experiences which occurred while he was staying at the house of a lady in the country.

The illusions appear to have affected her ear as well as the eye. We shall see in the next chapter how intimately sound and light are connected, and how the eyes and ears are equally impressed, though in a different way, by the vibration of particles. The lady referred to was about to go upstairs to dress for dinner one afternoon, when she heard her husband’s voice calling to her by name. She opened the door, and nobody was outside; and when she returned for a moment to the fire she heard the voice again calling, “Come to me; come, come away,” in a somewhat impatient tone. She immediately went in search of her husband, but he did not come in till half an hour afterwards, and of course said he had not called, and told her where he had been at the time—some distance away. This happened on the 26th December, 1830, but a more alarming occurrence took place four days after.

About the same time in the afternoon of the 30th December, the lady came into the drawing-room, and to her great astonishment she perceived her husband standing with his back to the fireplace. She had seen him go out walking a short time previously, and was naturally surprised to find he had returned so soon. He looked at her very thoughtfully, and made no answer. She sat down close beside him at the fire, and as he still gazed upon her she said, “Why don’t you say something!” The figure immediately moved away towards the window at the farther end of the room, still gazing at her, “and it passed so close that she was struck by the circumstance of hearing no step nor sound, nor feeling her dress brushed against, nor even any agitation of the air.” Although convinced this was not her husband, the lady never fancied there was anything supernatural in the appearance of the figure. Subsequently she was convinced that it was a spectral illusion, although she could not see through the figure which appeared as substantial as the reality.

Were it advisable, we could multiply instances. In the Edinburgh Journal of Science these, and many more instances of spectral illusions were narrated by the husband of the lady. She frequently beheld deceased relatives or absent friends, and described their dress and general appearance very minutely. On one occasion she perceived a coach full of skeletons drive up to the door, and noticed spectral dogs and cats (her own pets’ likenesses) in the room. There can be no doubt upon these points; the appearances were manifest and distinct. They were seen in the presence of other people, in solitude, and in the society of her husband. The lady was in delicate health, and very sensitive. The spectres appeared in daylight as well as in the dark, or by candle-light.

Let us now, guided by what we have already written, and by Sir David Brewster’s experience, endeavour to give a rational explanation of these illusions. “The mind’s eye is really the body’s eye, and the retina is the common tablet upon which both classes of impressions are painted, and by means of which they receive their visual existence according to the same optical laws.”

“In the healthy state of mind and body the relative intensity of the two classes of impressions on the retina are nicely adjusted—the bodily and mental are balanced. The latter are feeble and transient, and in ordinary temperaments are never capable of disturbing or effacing the direct images of visible objects.... The mind cannot perform two different functions at the same instant, and the direction of its attention to one of the two classes of impressions necessarily produces the extinction of the other; but so rapid is the exercise of mental power, that the alternate appearance and disappearance of the two contending impressions is no more recognized than the successive observations of external objects during the twinkling of the eyelids.”

We have before illustrated, by means of the pen and the ink-bottle, how one object is lost sight of when the other is attentively regarded, and a material picture or scene may be equally lost sight of, and a mental picture take its place in the eye, when we recall places or people we have seen or remembered.

We have all heard numerous anecdotes of what is termed “absent-mindedness.” Some people are quite absorbed in study, and can see or hear no one in the room when deeply occupied. We may be satisfied then that “pictures of the mind and spectral illusions are equally impressions upon the retina, and only differ in the degree of vividness with which they are seen.” If we press our eyes the phosphorescence becomes apparent, and we can make a picture of the sun or a lamp visible for a long time to our closed eyes if we stare at either object for a few seconds, and shut our lids. So by increasing the sensibility of the retina we can obtain the image, and alter its colour by pressure on the eye.

It is well known that poisons will affect sight, and belladonna applied to the eyes will so affect them as to render the sight nil, by enlargement of the “pupil.” If one is out of health there is practically a poisoning of the system, and when we have a “bilious headache” we see colours and stars because there is a pressure upon the blood-vessels of the eye. The effects of a disordered stomach, induced by drinking too much, are well known; objects are seen double, and most ghosts may be traced to a disordered state of health of mind or body, brought on by excitement or fatigue. We could relate a series of ghost stories,—some in our own experience, for we have seen a ghost equally with our neighbours,—but this is not the place for them. Although many apparently incontrovertible assertions are made, and many spectres have been produced to adorn a tale, we must put on record our own opinion, that every one could be traced to mental impression or bodily affection had we only the key to the life and circumstances of the ghost-seer. Many celebrated conjurers will convince us almost against our reason that our pocket-handkerchief is in the orange just cut up. They will bring live rabbits from our coat-pockets or vests, and pigeons from our opera-hats. These are equally illusions. We know what can be done with mirrors. We have seen ghosts at the Polytechnic, but we must put down all apparitions as the result of mental or bodily, even unconscious impressions upon the retina of the eye. There are numerous illusions, such as the Fata Morgana, the Spectre of the Brocken, etc., which are due to a peculiar state of the atmosphere, and to the unequal reflection and refraction of light. Those, and many other optical phenomena, will, with phenomena of heat and sound, be treated under METEOROLOGY, when we will consider the rainbow and the aurora, with many other atmospheric effects.

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XV. ACOUSTICS

THE EAR, AND HEARING—PHYSIOLOGY OF HEARING AND SOUND—SOUND AS COMPARED WITH LIGHT—WHAT IS SOUND?—VELOCITY OF SOUND—CONDUCTIBILITY—THE HARMONOGRAPH.

Before entering upon the science of ACOUSTICS, a short description of the ear, and the mode in which sound is conveyed to our brain, will be no doubt acceptable to our readers. The study of the organs of hearing is not an easy one; although we can see the exterior portion, the interior and delicate membranes are hidden from us in the very hardest bone of the body—the petrous bone, the temporal and rock-like bone of the head.

The ear (external) is composed of the auricle, the visible ear, the auditory canal, and the drum-head, or membra tympani. The tympanum, or “drum,” is situated between the external and the internal portions of the ear. This part is the “middle ear,” and is an air cavity, and through it pass two nerves, one to the face, and the other to the tongue. The internal ear is called the “labyrinth,” from its intricate structure. We give an illustration of the auditory apparatus of man (fig. 170).

The auricle, or exterior ear, is also represented, but we need not go into any minute description of the parts. We will just name them (fig. 171).

Sound is the motion imparted to the auditory nerve, and we shall see in a moment how sound is produced. The undulations enter the auditory canal, having been taken up by the auricle; the waves or vibrations move at the rate of 1,100 feet a second, and reach the drum-head, which has motion imparted to it. This motion or oscillation is imparted to other portions, and through the liquid in the labyrinth. The impressions of the sound wave are conveyed to the nerve, and this perception of the movement in the water of the labyrinth by the nerve threads and the brain causes what we term “hearing.”

Let us now endeavour to explain what sound is, and how it arises. There are some curious parallels between sound and light. When speaking of light we mentioned some of the analogies between sound and light, and as we proceed to consider sound, we will not lose sight of the light we have just passed by.

Sound is the influence of air in motion upon the hearing or auditory nerves. Light, as we have seen, is the ether in motion, the vibrations striking the nerves of the eye.

There are musical and unmusical sounds. The former are audible when the vibrations of the air reach our nerves at regular intervals. Unmusical sounds, or irregular vibrations, create noise. Now, musical tones bear the same relation to the ear as colours do to the eye. We must have a certain number of vibrations of ether to give us a certain colour (vide table). “About four hundred and fifty billion impulses in a second” give red light. The violet rays require nearly double. So we obtain colours by the different rate of the impingement of impulses on the retina. The eyes, as we have already learned, cannot receive any more rapidly-recurring impressions than those producing violet, although as proved, the spectrum is by no means exhausted, even if they are invisible. In the consideration of Calorescence we pointed this out. These invisible rays work great chemical changes when they get beyond violet, and are shown to be heat. So the rays which do not reach the velocity of red rays are also heat, which is the effect of motion.

Thus we have HEAT, LIGHT, and SOUND, all the ascertained results of vibratory motion. The stillness of the ether around us is known as “Darkness”; the stillness of the air is “Silence”; the comparative absence of heat, or molecular motion of bodies is “Cold”!

In the first part we showed how coins impart motion to each other.

VELOCITY OF LIGHT WAVES.

According to SIR J. HERSCHEL.

Colour of the No. of Undulations No. of Undulations Spectrum. in an inch. in a second. Extreme Red 37,640 458,000,000,000,000 Red 39,180 477,000,000,000,000 Intermediate 40,720 495,000,000,000,000 Orange 41,610 506,000,000,000,000 Intermediate 42,510 517,000,000,000,000 Yellow 44,000 535,000,000,000,000 Intermediate 45,600 555,000,000,000,000 Green 47,460 577,000,000,000,000 Intermediate 49,320 600,000,000,000,000 Blue 51,110 622,000,000,000,000 Intermediate 52,910 644,000,000,000,000 Indigo 54,070 658,000,000,000,000 Intermediate 55,240 672,000,000,000,000 Violet 57,490 699,000,000,000,000 Extreme Violet 59,750 727,000,000,000,000

When an impulse was given the motion was carried from coin to coin, and at length the last one in the row flew out. This is the case with sound. The air molecules strike one upon another, and the wave of “sound” reaches the tympanum, and thus the impression is conveyed to the brain. We say we hear—but why we hear, in what manner the movement of certain particles affects our consciousness, we cannot determine.

That the air is absolutely necessary to enable us to hear can readily be proved. The experiment has frequently been made; place a bell under the receiver of an air-pump, and we can hear it ring. But if we exhaust the air the sound will get fainter and fainter. Similarly, as many of us have experienced upon high mountains, sounds are less marked. Sound diminishes in its intensity, just as heat and light do. Sound is reflected and refracted, as are light and radiant heat. We have already shown the effect of reflectors upon heat. Sound is caught and reflected in the same way as light from mirrors, or as the heat waves in the reflectors. We have what we term “sounding boards” in pulpits, and speaking tubes will carry sound for us without loss of power. Echoes are merely reflected sounds.

The velocity of sound is accepted as 1,100 feet in a second, which is far inferior to the velocity of light. Fogs will retard sound, while water will carry it. Those who have ever rowed upon a lake will remember how easily the sound of their voices reached from boat to boat, and Dr. Hutton says that at Chelsea, on the Thames, he heard a person reading from a distance of a hundred and forty feet. Some extraordinary instances could be deduced of the enormous distances sound is said to have travelled. Guns have been heard at eighty miles distant, and the noise of a battle between the English and Dutch, in 1672, was heard even in Wales, a distance of two hundred miles from the scene of action.

Sound always travels with uniform velocity in the air in the same temperature. But sound! What is the cause of it? How does it arise? These questions can now be fully answered with reference to the foregoing observations. Phenomena of vibration render themselves visible by light, heat, and sound, and to arrive at some definite ideas of sound vibrations we may compare them to waves, such as may be produced by throwing a stone into a pond.

There are, so to speak, “standing” waves and “progressive” waves. The former can be produced (for instance) by thrumming a fiddle-string, and when the equilibrium of the cord is disturbed, the position of the equilibrium is passed simultaneously by the string-waves. In water the waves or vibrating points pass the position of equilibrium in succession.

Waves consist of elevations and depressions alternately, and when we obtain two “systems” of waves by throwing two stones into water, we can observe some curious effects. It can be seen how one series of depressions will come in contact with the other series of depressions, and the elevations will likewise unite with the result of longer depressions and elevations respectively; or it may very well be that elevation will meet depression, and then the so-called “interference” of waves will produce points of repose. These points are termed nodes. The waves of the string proceed in the plane of its axis; water waves extend in circles which increase in circumference.

The progression or propagation of sound may be said to begin when some tiny globule of matter expands in the air. The air particles strike one against the other, and so the motion is communicated to the air waves, which in time reach the ear. But the velocity of the sound is not equal in all substances. Air will convey it around our earth at the rate of 765 miles an hour, or 1,090 feet in a second. That is, we may accept such rate as correct at a temperature of 32° Fahr., and at a pressure of thirty inches, and the velocity increases almost exactly one foot per second for each degree of temperature above 32°. Therefore on an average, and speaking in “round numbers,” the estimate of 1,100 feet in a second may be accepted as correct. In hydrogen gas the rate is much higher. Through water again it is different, and still faster through iron, glass, and wood, as will be seen in the following table:—

TAKING AIR AS 1.

Whalebone 6⅔ Tin 7½ Silver 9 Walnut 10⅔ Brass 10⅔ Oak 10⅔ Earthen pipes 11 Copper 12 Pear-wood 12½ Ebony 14⅔ Cherry 15 Willow 16 Glass 16⅔ Iron or Steel 16⅔ Deal 18

So there is a considerable difference in the velocities of sound through the solid substances quoted, but these figures cannot be taken as exact, as different samples may give different results. In wires and bells the bodies themselves produce the sounds we hear. In wind instruments and the voice the air is the cause of the sound.

The very deepest notes are produced by the fewest vibrations. Fourteen or fifteen vibrations will give us a very low note, if not the very lowest. The pipe of sixteen feet, closed at its upper end, will produce sound waves of thirty-two feet. High notes can be formed from vibrations up to 48,000 in a second. Beyond these limits the ear cannot accept a musical sound.

We will explain the phenomenon of the vibration of strings by means of the illustration. In the cut we find a string or wire, which can be lengthened or shortened at pleasure by a movable bridge, and stretched by weights attached to the end (fig. 172).

We can now easily perceive that the shorter and thinner the string is, and the tighter it is, the number of vibrations will be greater and greater. The density of it is also to be considered, and when these conditions are in the smallest proportion then the tone will be highest. The depth will naturally increase with the thickness, density, and length, and with a decreasing tension. But we have strings of same thickness stretched to different degrees of tension, and thus producing different notes. Some strings are covered with wire to increase their gravity, and thus to produce low notes.

When a number of separate sounds succeed each other in very rapid course they produce a sound, but to appear as one sound to the ear they must amount to fifteen or sixteen vibrations every second. The particles of matter in the air form a connected system, and till they are disturbed they remain in equilibrium; but the moment they are in any way thrown out of this state they vibrate as the pendulum vibrates. The particles thus strike each other, and impart a motion to the elastic medium air, so a sound comes to us.

The intensity of sounds gets less the farther it goes from us, or the loudness of sound is less the greater its distance. The law is, that in an unvarying medium the loudness varies inversely as the square of the distance. But Poisson has shown that when air-strata, differing in density, are existing between the ear and the source of the sound, the intensity or loudness with which it is heard depends only on the density of the air at the place the sound originated. This fact has been substantiated by balloonists who heard a railway whistle quite distinctly when they were nearly 20,000 feet above the ground. It therefore follows that sound can be heard in a balloon equally well as on the earth at certain given distances. But as the density of the air diminishes the sound becomes fainter, as has been proved by the bell rung in the receiver of an air-pump. The velocity of sound, to a certain extent, depends upon its intensity, as Earnshaw sought to prove; for he instanced a fact that in the Arctic regions, where sound can be heard for an immense distance, in consequence of the still and homogeneous air, the report of a cannon two miles and a half away was heard before the loud command to “fire,” which must have preceded the discharge. Another instance showing the difference in hearing through mixed and homogeneous media may be referred to. In the war with America, when the English and their foes were on opposite sides of a stream, an American was seen to beat his drum, but no sound came across. “A coating of soft snow and a thick atmosphere absorbed the noise.” Glazed, or hard snow, would have a contrary effect. Reynault also experimentally verified his theory, that sound when passing through a space of nearly 8,000 feet lost velocity as its intensity diminished, and in that distance between its arrival at 4,000 feet and at 7,500 feet, the sound velocity diminished by 2·2 feet per second. He also tried to demonstrate that sound velocity depended upon its pitch, and that lower notes travelled with the greater speed.

The reflection and refraction of sound follows the same fundamental laws as the reflection and refraction of light. The reflection of sound is termed an Echo, which is familiar to all tourists in Switzerland and Ireland particularly. There are several very remarkable echoes in the world: at Woodstock, and at the Sicilian cathedral of Gergenti, where the confessions poured forth near the door to priestly ears were heard by a man concealed behind the high altar at the opposite end. It is curious that such a spot should have been accidentally chosen for the Confessional. The whispering gallery in St. Paul’s is another instance of the echo.

Echoes are produced by the reflection of sound waves from a plane or even surface. A wall, or even a cloud, will produce echoes. Thunder is echoed from the clouds. (The celebrated echo of “Paddy Blake,” at Killarney, which, when you say “How do you do,” is reported to reply, “Very well, thank you,” can scarcely be quoted as a scientific illustration.) And the hills of Killarney contain an echo, and the bugle sounds are beautifully repeated. In the cases of ordinary echo, when the speaker waits for the answer, he must place himself opposite the rock. If he stand at the side the echo will reply to another person in a corresponding place on the farther side, for the voice then strikes the rock at an angle, and the angle of reflection is the same, as in the case of light.

But if it should happen that there are a number of reflecting surfaces the echo will be repeated over and over again, as at the Lakes of Killarney. The Woodstock Echo, already referred to, and mentioned by several writers, repeats seventeen syllables by day, and twenty by night. In Shipley there is even a greater repetition. Of course the echo is fainter, because the waves are weaker if the reflecting surface be flat. But, as in the case of the mirrors reflecting light, a circular or concave surface will increase the intensity. A watch placed in one mirror will be heard ticking in the other focus. Whispering galleries carry sound by means of the curved surface. Sir John Herschel mentions an echo in the Menai Suspension Bridge. The blow of a hammer on one of the main piers will produce the sound from each of the crossbeams supporting the roadway, and from the opposite pier 576 feet distant, as well as many other repetitions.

Refraction of sound is caused by a wave of sound meeting another medium of different density, just as a beam of light is refracted from water. One sound wave imparts its motion to the new medium, and the new wave travels in a different direction. This change is refraction. The sound waves are refracted in different directions, according to the velocity it can acquire in the medium. If a sound pass from water into air it will be bent towards the perpendicular, because sound can travel faster in water than in air. If it pass from air into water its force will cause it to assume a less perpendicular direction, there being greater velocity in water. The velocity in air is only 1,100 feet in a second in our atmosphere. In water sound travels 4,700 feet in the same time. When the wave of sound falls upon a medium parallel to the refracting surface there is, however, no refraction—only a change of velocity, not direction.

When sound waves are prevented from dispersing the voice can be carried a great distance. Speaking tubes and trumpets, as well as ear trumpets, are examples of this principle, and of the reflection of sound.

There are many very interesting experiments in connection with Acoustics, some of which we will now impart to our readers. We shall then find many ingenious inventions to examine,—the Audiphone, Telephone, Megaphone, and Phonograph, which will occupy a separate chapter. We now resume.

Amongst the experiments usually included in the course of professors and lecturers who have a complete apparatus at their command, and which at first appear very complicated and difficult, there are some which can be performed with every-day articles at hand. There is no experiment in acoustics more interesting than that of M. Lissajons, which consists, as is well known to our scientists, of projecting upon a table or other surface, with the aid of oxy-hydrogen light, the vibratory curves traced by one of the prongs of a tuning-fork. We can perform without difficulty a very similar experiment with the humble assistance of the common knitting-needle.

Fix the flexible steel needle firmly in a cork, which will give it sufficient support; fasten then at the upper extremity a small ball of sealing wax, or a piece of paper about the size of a large pea. If the cork in which the needle is fixed be held firmly in one hand, and you cause the needle to vibrate by striking it, and then letting it sway of itself, or with a pretty strong blow with a piece of wood, you will perceive the little pellet of wax or paper describe an ellipse more or less elongated, or even a circle will be described if the vibrations be frequent. The effect is much enhanced if the experiment be performed beneath a lamp, so that plenty of light may fall upon the vibrating needle. In this case, the persistence of impressions upon the retina admits of one seeing the vibrating circle in successive positions, and we may almost fancy when the needle is struck with sufficient force, that an elongated conical glass, like the old form of champagne glass, is rising from the cork, as shown in the illustration annexed (fig. 173).

Acoustics may be studied in the same way as other branches of physical science. We will describe an interesting experiment, which gives a very good idea of the transmission of sounds through solid bodies. A silver spoon is fastened to a thread, the ends of which are thrust into both ears, as shown in fig. 174; we then slightly swing the spoon until we make it touch the edge of the table; the transmission of sound is in consequence so intense that we are ready to believe we are listening to the double diapason of an organ. This experiment explains perfectly the transmission of spoken words by means of the string of a telephone, another contrivance which any one may make for himself without any trouble whatever. Two round pieces of cardboard are fitted to two cylinders of tin-plate, as large round as a lamp-glass, and four-and-a-half inches in length. If the two rounds of cardboard are connected by a long string of sixteen to eighteen yards, we can transmit sounds from one end to the other of this long cord; the speaker pronouncing the words into the first cylinder, and the listener placing his ear against the other. It is easy to demonstrate that sound takes a certain time to pass from one point to another. When one sees in the distance a carpenter driving in a stake, we find that the sound produced by the blow of the hammer against the wood only reaches the ear a few seconds after the contact of the two objects. We see the flash at the firing of a gun, before hearing the sound of the report—of course on the condition that we are at a fairly considerable distance, as already remarked upon.

We can show the production of the Gamut by cutting little pieces of wood of different sizes, which one throws on to a table; the sounds produced vary according to the size of the different pieces. The same effect may be obtained much better by means of goblets more or less filled with water; they are struck with a short rod, and emit a sound which can be modified by pouring in a greater or less quantity of water; if the performer is gifted with a musical ear, he can obtain, by a little arrangement, a perfect Gamut by means of seven glasses which each give a note (fig. 175). A piece of music may be fairly rendered in this manner, for the musical glasses frequently produce a very pure silvery sound. We will complete the elementary principles of acoustics by describing a very curious apparatus invented by M. Tisley, the HARMONOGRAPH. This instrument, which we can easily describe, is a most interesting object of study. The Harmonograph belongs to mechanics in principle, and to the science of acoustics in application. We will first examine the apparatus itself. It is composed of two pendulums, A and B (fig. 176), fixed to suspensions. Pendulum B supports a circular plate, P, on which we may place a small sheet of paper, as shown in the illustration. This paper is fixed by means of small brass clips. Pendulum A supports a horizontal bar, at the extremity of which is a glass tube, T, terminating at its lower extremity with a capillary opening; this tube is filled with aniline ink, and just rests on the sheet of paper; the support and the tube are balanced by a counterpoise on the right. The two pendulums, A and B, are weighted with round pieces of lead, which can be moved at pleasure, so that various oscillations may be obtained. The ratio between the oscillations of the two pendulums may be exactly regulated by means of pendulum A carrying a small additional weight, the height of which may be regulated by means of a screw and a small windlass. If we give to pendulum A a slight movement of oscillation, the point of tube T traces a straight line on the paper placed in P; but if we move pendulum B, the paper also is displaced, and the point of tube T will trace curves, the shape of which varies with the nature of the movement of pendulum B, the relation between the oscillations of the two pendulums, etc. If the pendulums oscillate without any friction the curve will be clear, and the point will pass indefinitely over the same track, but when the oscillations diminish, the curve also diminishes in size, still preserving its form, and tending to a point corresponding with the position of repose of the two pendulums. The result is therefore that the curves traced by the apparatus, of which we produce three specimens (figs. 177, 178, 179), are traced in a continuous stroke, commencing with the part of the greatest amplitude.

By changing the relation and phases of the oscillations we obtain curves of infinitely varied aspect. M. Tisley has a collection of more than three thousand curves, which we have had occasion to glance over, in which we failed to meet with two corresponding figures. The ratio between these curves corresponds with some special class, of which the analyst may define the general characters, but which is outside our present subject. By giving the plate P a rotatory movement, we obtain spiral curves of a very curious effect, but the apparatus is more complicated. Considered from this point of view it constitutes an interesting mechanical apparatus, showing the combination of oscillations, and resolving certain questions of pure mechanics. From the point of view of acoustics it constitutes a less curious object of study. The experiments of M. Lissajons have proved that the vibrations of diapasons are oscillations similar to, though much more rapid than those of the pendulum. We can therefore with this apparatus reproduce all the experiments of M. Lissajons, with this difference, that the movements being slower are easier to study. When the ratio between the number of vibrations—we purposely use the term vibration instead of the term oscillation—is a whole number, we obtain figs. 177 and 178. If the ratio is not exact, we obtain fig. 179, which is rather irregular in appearance, corresponding to the distortions noticeable in M. Lissajon’s experiments. Fig. 178 has been traced in the exact ratio 2:3; fig. 177 in the ratio 1:2; and fig. 179 corresponds to the ratio 1:2 and a small fraction, which causes the irregularity of the figure.

In considering the harmony of figs. 177 and 178,—the first of which corresponds to the octave, the second to the fifth, whilst fig. 179 corresponds to the disagreeable interval of the ninth,—one is almost tempted to put a certain faith in the fundamental law of simple ratios as the basis of harmony. At first sight this appears beyond doubt, but perhaps musicians would be hardly content with the explanation. M. Tisley’s Harmonograph, it will be seen, is a rather complicated apparatus; and I will now explain how it may be constructed by means of a few pieces of wood. I endeavoured to construct as simple an apparatus as possible, and with the commonest materials, feeling that it is the best means of showing how it is possible for everybody to reproduce these charming curves of musical intervals. Also I completely excluded the employment of metals, and I constructed my apparatus entirely with pieces of wooden rulers, and old cigar boxes. I set to work in the following manner: on the two consecutive sides of a drawing board I fixed four small pieces of wood (fig. 180), side by side in twos, having at the end a small piece of tin-plate forming a groove (fig. 181). In these grooves nails are placed which support the pendulums. The piece of wood is placed on the corner of the table, so that the pendulums which oscillate in two planes at right angles, are in two planes that are sensibly parallel to the sides of the table. The pendulums are made of a thin lath, with two small pieces of wood fixed to them containing some very pointed nails, on which the pendulum oscillates. Fig. 182 gives an illustration. The pendulums have a pin fixed in vertically, which passes through a piece of wood, and by means of a hinge connects the upper ends of the two pendulums. This contrivance of the pin is very useful, and if care is taken to make the hole through the hinge in the form of a double cone, as shown in fig. 182, c, it makes a perfect joint, which allows the piece of wood to be freely moved.

To complete the apparatus, the heads of the two pendulums are united by the hinge, at the bend of which a slender glass tube is fixed, which traces the curves. The hinge is given in fig. 184, and to its two extremities are adjusted the two pins of the pendulum (fig. 183). The pendulums are encircled with round pieces of lead, which can be fixed at any height by means of a screw.

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Chapter XVI

ACOUSTICS (Continued).

THE TOPOPHONE—THE MEGAPHONE—THE AUTOPHONE—THE AUDIPHONE—THE TELEPHONE—THE PHONOGRAPH—THE MICROPHONE.

We propose in this chapter to give as shortly as possible a description of the various instruments lately come into use, by means of which, and electricity, sounds can be carried from place to place, and their locality identified. It is only within the last few years that these wonderful inventions have come into use, and in a measure superseded the at one time invincible electric telegraph. The Telephone is now in daily use in London and other places, and its novelty, if not all its capability, has been discounted. The Phonograph has also been frequently seen. So we will on this occasion commence with the TOPOPHONE, a rather novel instrument.

As the name indicates, the TOPOPHONE is an apparatus for discovering the position of a sound, from the Greek words signifying a “place” and “sound.” The sources of sound can be found by it, and indeed this is its actual and practical use. It is claimed for this new apparatus that it stands in the same relation to the sailor as his old and trusty friends, the compass and sextant. These in navigation inform the steersman as to his course, and tells him his position by observation. The Topophone will tell him whence a sound arises, its origin wherever it may be; and this in a fog is no mean advantage. Suppose a ship to be approaching a dangerous coast in a fog. We are all aware how deceptive sounds are when heard through such a medium. We cannot tell from what precise direction the horn, whistle, or bell is sounding. The Topophone will give us the exact spot, and we can then, from our general knowledge of the locality, work our vessel up the river, or into the harbour, in safety.

The Topophone was invented in 1880, by Professor Alfred Mayer, an American, and is based upon the well-known theory of sound waves. These, as we have already explained, exist in the air; and if the theory of sound waves has perfected the Topophone, we can fairly say that it has confirmed the supposed form of the sound waves. “Sound,” says the inventor of the apparatus, “is supposed to be a particle continually expanding in the air, composed of a wave produced by compression, and followed by rarefaction. A continuous sound is a series of these particles or globules spreading and expanding as the water-rings in a pond.” This much will be at once perceived.

Now, suppose a person up to his shoulders in a pond of water, and someone throws a stone into it. If that person extend his arms and hands at right angles facing the sound, each hand would touch the edge of a ripple as it came towards him across the pond. He would then be facing the source of the ripples or waves, and look along a radius of the circle formed by the waves. But if he please, he can move his body so that both hands shall touch the same wave at the same time, or he might turn away from the source, and only one hand would touch the wave. But when both hands are actually washed by the same circular ripple he must be facing the source of it. Any position in which his fingers did not touch the ripple almost at the same instant, would not be facing the source of the wave ripples. So by turning and extending his hands, he could with his eyes shut find out whether he was or was not facing the original source of the waves.

This applied to sound waves in the air is the whole theory of the Topophone, which, however, depends for its usefulness upon the same note being sounded by all horns and whistles. One note must be better than all the others, and that note, probably C (treble), caused by about two hundred and sixty vibrations per second, has been found most applicable. If all whistles and horns can by law be compelled to adjust themselves to this note, then the Topophone will be a real and lasting benefit.

Let us now look at the apparatus itself.

It being conceded that the resonators are in the same key as the Foghorn,—and this is necessary,—they are placed upon the deck of the vessel. An ear-tube of indiarubber is carried from each of these “resonators” into the cabin. These tubes unite and again separate, ending in small pieces ready to be fitted to the ears. The apparatus is fixed on deck, and the arrangement which supports it passes into the cabin, and can be turned about in any direction. Of course in this case a dial point is necessary to indicate the direction in which the instrument is turned. If the machine be worn on the shoulders of the officer of the watch he can move as he pleases, and wants no indicator.

The Topophone when used is so constructed, that when a horn is heard, and when the listener is facing the sound, he can hear nothing! When not facing the origin of the sound he can hear the horn very well, but the moment the resonators receive the sound together as they face the source, a very low murmur is heard, or perhaps no sound at all.—Why?

A certain pitch of tone is composed of vibrations or waves of equal length. In all waves there is a hollow and a crest. One neutralizes the other. The hollow of a sound wave meeting the crest of another wave “interferes” to produce silence, stillness, a dead level. So in “light”; two rays will produce darkness. We will endeavour to explain this.

If we have two equal strings, each performing an equal number of vibrations in a second, they will produce equal sound waves, and the sound produced by both together will be uninterrupted, and twice as loud as one of them. But if one string vibrate, say one hundred times, and the other one hundred and one times in a second, they will not be in unison, and one will gain upon the other string, till after it has got to fifty vibrations it will be half a vibration ahead. At that moment they will neutralize each other, and silence will ensue for an appreciable time.

In the case of light suppose a red ray strikes the eye, and another red ray to come upon it from somewhere else. If the difference between its distance and the other point from the spot in the retina on which the first ray fell, is the 258/1000 part of an inch, or exactly twice, thrice, four times as much, etc., that distance, the light will be seen twice as strong. But if the difference in the distances between the points whence the light comes be only one-half the 258/1000 part of an inch, or 1½, 2½, 3½, or 4½ times that distance, one light will extinguish the other, and darkness will be the result. Now this is precisely what happens in the case of the Topophone. To return to our simile of water waves. If two stones be cast into a pond, and two equal and similar waves produced, and if they reach a certain place at the same moment, they will make one large wave. But if one followed the other a little, so that the hollow of one coincided with the crest of the other, and vice versâ, the waves would obliterate each other, and a dead level would result. One tube of the Topophone is half a wave length longer than the other, and when the resonators are in a line and receive the wave at the same time, one ear hears the elevation of the sound wave, and the other the depression,—the sound is neutralized, and comparative, if not actual, silence results. The sailor knows in what direction the land lies, and can calculate his distance, or anchor if he please.

If amongst our readers there be any who wish to make for themselves an acoustic signalling apparatus there is physically nothing to prevent them from constructing such an instrument as that shown in the annexed woodcut (fig. 185). It is founded upon the speaking-trumpet principle, which is supposed to have been originated by Samuel Markland, in 1670.

Kircher, in his “Ars magna et umbra,” and in his “Phonurgia,” mentions a kind of speaking-trumpet, or porte voix, of gigantic dimensions, and called the “Horn of Alexander.” According to Kircher, the instrument was used by Alexander the Great to summon his soldiers from a distance of ten miles. The diameter of the circumference was about eight feet, and Kircher conjectured that the instrument was mounted upon three supports.

During the last century, a German professor, named Huth, made a model of the horn, and found it answered every purpose of a speaking-trumpet with most powerful results, but we beg leave to doubt whether the instrument really carried the voice to any very great distance.

The Acoustic Cornet, which is the counterpart of the speaking-trumpet, has been made in many different forms during the last two centuries, but none of them to the present time consist of anything more intricate than a simple tube with a mouthpiece and bell-shaped orifice.

Professor Edison, however, in his researches regarding the conveyance of sounds, has made numerous and interesting experiments. On one occasion, with his Megaphone he carried on a conversation at a distance of nearly two miles, without any other assistance from instruments except a few little cornets of cardboard. These constitute the Megaphone, which may be regarded as a curiosity, considering the effects produced by such simple means. The illustration (fig. 185) represents the instrument which is (or was lately) fixed upon the balcony of Mr. Edison’s house. At a mile-and-a-half distant from the house, at a spot indicated by the two birds in the picture, another instrument was fixed, and conversation was carried on with ease.

Perhaps the present opportunity will be the most convenient to speak of the AUTOPHONE, although it is more a musical than an acoustic instrument. Until lately Barbary organs and piano organs have been the only means by which poor people have been able to hear any music, and that not of a very elevated class. Besides, there is a good deal of expense connected with the possession of an organ. But the Americans, with a view to popularize music, have invented the AUTOPHONE, which is simply a mechanical accordeon, manufactured by the Autophone Company, of Ithaca, New York.

The principle of the instrument is represented in fig. 186, and is extremely simple. An upright frame carries within it on one side a bellows, and on the other a flexible air chamber, which serves as a reservoir.

The upper portion contains a set of stops like an accordeon, but the escape of the air through the small vibrating plates can only take place by the upper surface of the frame work, upon which slides a thin plate of Bristol board pierced with holes at convenient distances, and set in motion by the mechanism shown in the annexed diagram (fig. 187).

The figure represents an axle furnished with a series of “washers,” which, acting upon the plate, cause it to move round. It is the bellows movement that turns the axle by the aid of two “catches,” B and C, which work upon a toothed wheel fixed upon it.

The “catch” B moves the paper on which the tune is “perforated,” when the bellows is empty, the other catch when it is distended; but a counter catch, D, represented by the dotted lines in the illustration, is so arranged that the paper cannot pass on except the tooth of the catch D is opposite a hole pierced upon the plate above. In the contrary case there is no movement of the paper during the dilatation of the bellows. The effect of this very ingenious arrangement is to give to the “musical” band of “board” an irregular movement, but it economises it in the case of sustained notes. The whole action of the instrument depends upon the correct working of the bellows.

The effect, from an artistic point of view, certainly leaves something to be desired, but the instrument is cheap, and not cumbersome, and the slips of paper upon which the music is “cut out” can be made by machinery, and consequently are not dear. So far, the Autophone is fitted for popular favour and use, and may supersede the barrel organ.

The AUDIPHONE is an instrument to conduct sound to the ear, to supplement it when temporary or partial deafness has occurred. Very likely many of our readers have observed ladies carrying large black fans on occasions,—at church, or lecture, or theatre,—and wondered why, perhaps. Those “fans” are Audiphones. The instrument is made of vulcanized rubber, and consists of a long flexible disc supported by a handle. To the upper edge of the “fan” are attached cords, which pass through a clip on the handle. If the person who wishes to hear by means of the Audiphone will hold the fan against the upper teeth,—the convex side of the fan outward,—he or she will hear distinctly, for the vibrations of sound are collected and strike upon the teeth and bones, and act upon the auditory nerves from within, precisely as the vibrations act from without through the auricle. We need hardly add that if the ear be injured the Audiphone will be of no use. A writer says: “From personal observation with the Audiphone it appears to convey the sonorous vibrations to the ear through the teeth, just as a long wooden rod held in the teeth will convey the vibrations of the sounding-board of a piano, though the piano is in another room and out of hearing by the ear. In using the Audiphone during conversation there is no movement or vibration felt by the teeth; in listening to a piano there is a very faint sensation as if the Audiphone vibrated slightly, while with the handle of the Audiphone resting on the sounding-board of the piano the vibrations are so violent as to be painful to the teeth. By closing the ears a person with even acute hearing can observe the admirable manner in which the instrument conveys spoken words to the ear. The Audiphone will prove to be of great value to deaf mutes, as it enables them to hear their own voices, and thus to train them to express words, while, before, they could only make inarticulate sounds.”

We have a variation of this instrument which has been introduced employing a diaphragm held in a telephone mouthpiece, and free to vibrate under the influence of sounds. This is connected by a string to a bit of wood that may be held in the teeth. In use the hearer places the wood between his teeth, the string is drawn tight, and the speaker speaks through the telephone mouthpiece, the vibrations of the diaphragm being then conveyed to the teeth through the stretched string. This apparatus works very successfully, and ladies use it, but it is not so convenient for general use as the Audiphone.

The Telephone is now in daily use in London, and is by no means strange to the majority of our countrymen, still some description of it will probably be acceptable, and a glance at its history may prove interesting.

In speaking of the Telephone, we must not lose sight of the facts before mentioned, as regards our sense of hearing, and the manner in which the ear acts by the series of bones termed the hammer, the anvil, and stirrup. In the process of reproduction of tone in the magnetic instruments, the mechanism of the human ear was, to a certain extent, imitated, and a diaphragm, by vibrations, generates and controls an electric current.

Professor Wheatstone was the first person to employ the electric wire for the transmission of sounds, but Professor Philip Reiss, of Friedrichsdorf, was the first to make the experiment of producing musical sounds at a distance. His first instrument was of a most primitive nature; subsequently he produced an instrument of which fig. 188 is the Telephone, fig. 189 the “receiver.”

In fig. 188, it will be seen that there is an aperture on the top and one at the side; the latter is the mouthpiece. The top aperture is covered with a membrane which is stretched very tightly. When a person speaks or sings into the mouthpiece his voice is at once concentrated upon the tight membrane, which it causes to vibrate in a manner corresponding with the vibrations of the voice. There are two binding screws, one at each side. To the centre of the tight membrane a piece of platinum is fixed, and this is connected with the binding screw on one side, in which a wire from the battery is fixed. On the membrane is a tripod, the feet of which (two) rest in metal cups, one of them being in a mercury cup connected with the binding screw at the opposite side to that already mentioned. The third “foot”—a platinum point—is on the platinum in the centre of the membrane or top, and moves with it. Every time the membrane is stretched by a vibration the platinum point is touched, and the closed circuit is broken by the return of each vibration.

The receiving instrument (fig. 189) consists of a coil enclosing an iron rod, and fixed upon a hollow sounding box. It is founded upon a fact discovered by Professor Henry, that iron bars when magnetized by an electric current become a little longer, and at the interruption of the current resume their former length. Thus in the receiver the iron will become alternately longer and shorter in accordance with the vibrations of the membrane in the box far away, and so the longitudinal vibrations of the bar of iron will be communicated to the sounding box, and become perfectly audible. This instrument, however, could only produce the “pitch” of sound, “not different degrees of intensity, or other qualities of tones.” It merely sang with its own little trumpet whatever was sung into it; for all the waves were produced by an electric current of a certain and uniform strength, and therefore the sound waves were of the same size.

But in 1874, Mr. Elisha Gray, of Chicago, improved Reiss’ instrument, and discovered a method by which the intensity or loudness of tones, as well as their “pitch,” were transmitted and reproduced. In this method he employed electrical vibrations of varying strength and rapidity, and so was enabled to reproduce a tune. Subsequently he conceived the notion of controlling the vibrations by means of a diaphragm, which responded to every known sound, and by this he managed to transmit speech in an articulate manner.

In 1876, Professor Graham Bell sent a Telephone to the Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia. Mr. Bell, according to the report, managed to produce a variation of strength of current in exact proportion to the particle of air moved by the sound. A piece of iron attached to a membrane, and moved to and fro in proximity to an electro magnet, proved successful. The battery and wire of the electro magnet are in circuit with the telegraph wire, and the wire of another electro magnet at the receiving station. This second magnet has a solid bar of iron for core, which is connected at one end, by a thick disc of iron, to an iron tube surrounding the coil and bar. The free circular end of the tube constitutes one pole of the electro magnet, and the adjacent free end of the bar core the other. A thin circular iron disc held pressed against the end of the tube by the electro-magnetic attraction, and free to vibrate through a very small space without touching the central pole, constitutes the sounder by which the electric effect is reconverted into sound. The accompanying illustrations (figs. 190, 191) show Mr. Bell’s Telephone as described.

The Telephone, subsequently simplified by Professor Bell, is shown in the two following illustrations (figs. 192, 193). The voice strikes against the diaphragm, and it begins to vibrate. The sound is not conveyed by the wire; the motion is communicated, and the vibrations become sound waves again. The Telephone consists of a cylindrical magnet encircled at one end by a bobbin, on which is wound a quantity of fine insulated copper wire. The magnet and coil are contained in a wooden case, the ends of the coil being soldered to thick copper wire, which traverse the “wooden envelope,” and terminate in the binding screws. In front of the magnet is a thin circular iron plate, in which is the mouthpiece. The drawings will explain the instrument.

Mr. Edison also invented a Telephone like Gray’s, and made the discovery, that when properly prepared, carbon would change its resistance with pressure, and that the ratio of these changes corresponded with the pressure. This solved the problem of the production of speech. The carbon is placed between two plates of platinum connected in the circuit and near the diaphragm, and the carbon receives the pressure from it by means of the mouthpiece.

When we come to MAGNETISM and ELECTRICITY we may have something more to say respecting the mysteries of the Telephone and its later developments. At present we are only concerned with it as a sound conveyer, and it answers its purpose admirably, although somewhat liable to attract other sounds or vibrations from neighbouring wires.

The PHONOGRAPH, a mechanical invention of Mr. Edison, does not make use of electricity, although the vibratory motion of the diaphragm is utilized. It, in a simple form, consists of a diaphragm so arranged as to operate upon a small stylus, placed just opposite and below the centre, and a brass cylinder, six or eight inches long, by three or four in diameter, mounted upon a horizontal axis, extending each way beyond its ends for a distance about its own length.

“A spiral groove is cut in the circumference of the cylinder, from one end to the other, each spiral of the groove being separated from its neighbour by about one-tenth of an inch. The shaft or axis is also cut by a screw thread corresponding to the spiral groove of the cylinder, and works in screw bearings; consequently when the cylinder is caused to revolve, by means of a crank that is fitted to the axis for this purpose, it receives a forward or backward movement of about one-tenth of an inch for every turn of the same, the direction, of course, depending upon the way the crank is turned. The diaphragm is firmly supported by an upright casting capable of adjustment, and so arranged that it may be removed altogether when necessary. When in use, however, it is clamped in a fixed position above or in front of the cylinder, thus bringing the stylus always opposite the groove as the cylinder is turned. A small, flat spring attached to the casting extends underneath the diaphragm as far as its centre and carries the stylus, and between the diaphragm and spring a small piece of india-rubber is placed to modify the action, it having been found that better results are obtained by this means than when the stylus is rigidly attached to the diaphragm itself.

“The action of the apparatus will now be readily understood from what follows. The cylinder is first very smoothly covered with tin-foil, and the diaphragm securely fastened in place by clamping its support to the base of the instrument. When this has been properly done, the stylus should lightly press against that part of the foil over the groove. The crank is now turned, while, at the same time, someone speaks into the mouthpiece of the instrument, which will cause the diaphragm to vibrate, and as the vibrations of the latter correspond with the movements of the air producing them, the soft and yielding foil will become marked along the line of the groove by a series of indentations of different depths, varying with the amplitude of the vibrations of the diaphragm; or in other words, with the inflections or modulations of the speaker’s voice. These inflections may therefore be looked upon as a sort of visible speech, which, in fact, they really are. If now the diaphragm is removed, by loosening the clamp, and the cylinder then turned back to the starting point, we have only to replace the diaphragm and turn in the same direction as at first, to hear repeated all that has been spoken into the mouthpiece of the apparatus; the stylus, by this means, being caused to traverse its former path, and consequently, rising and falling with the depressions in the foil, its motion is communicated to the diaphragm, and thence through the intervening air to the ear, where the sensation of sound is produced.

“As the faithful reproduction of a sound is in reality nothing more than a reproduction of similar acoustic vibrations in a given time, it at once becomes evident that the cylinder should be made to revolve with absolute uniformity at all times, otherwise a difference more or less marked between the original sound and the reproduction will become manifest. To secure this uniformity of motion, and produce a practically working machine for automatically recording speeches, vocal and instrumental music, and perfectly reproducing the same, the inventor devised an apparatus in which a plate replaces the cylinder. This plate, which is ten inches in diameter, has a volute spiral groove cut in its surface on both sides from its centre to within one inch of its outer edge; an arm guided by the spiral upon the under side of the plate carries a diaphragm and mouthpiece at its extreme end. If the arm be placed near the centre of the plate and the latter rotated, the motion will cause the arm to follow the spiral outward to the edge. A spring and train of wheel-work regulated by a friction governor serves to give uniform motion to the plate. The sheet upon which the record is made is of tin-foil. This is fastened to a paper frame, made by cutting a nine-inch disc from a square piece of paper of the same dimensions as the plate. Four pins upon the plate pass through corresponding eyelet-holes punched in the four corners of the paper, when the latter is laid upon it, and thus secure accurate registration, while a clamping-frame hinged to the plate fastens the foil and its paper frame securely to the latter. The mechanism is so arranged that the plate may be started and stopped instantly, or its motion reversed at will, thus giving the greatest convenience to both speaker and copyist.

“The articulation and quality of the Phonograph, although not yet perfect, is full as good as the Telephone was. The instrument, when perfected and moved by clock-work, will undoubtedly reproduce every condition of the human voice, including the whole world of expression in speech and song, and will be used universally.

“The sheet of tin-foil or other plastic material receiving the impressions of sound, will be stereotyped or electrotyped so as to be multiplied and made durable; or the cylinder will be made of a material plastic when used, and hardening afterward. Thin sheets of papier maché, or of various substances which soften by heat, would be of this character. Having provided thus for the durability of the Phonograph plate, it will be very easy to make it separable from the cylinder producing it, and attachable to a corresponding cylinder anywhere and at any time. There will doubtless be a standard of diameter and pitch of screw for Phonograph cylinders. Friends at a distance will then send to each other Phonograph letters, which will talk at any time in the friend’s voice when put upon the instrument.” (Scribner.)

The MICROPHONE (an outcome of the Telephone) was discovered by Professor Hughes, of London. It is an instrument which in its main features consists of a carbon “pencil,” so suspended that one end rests upon a carbon “die.” The instrument being connected with a Telephone by the circuit wires, will reproduce faint sounds very distinctly. Once a Microphone was put into a preacher’s pulpit, and joined to a private telegraph wire which led to a gentleman’s house. The owner was thus enabled to hear the sermon. So long as it is thus connected every minute sound, even a fly’s footstep, will be faithfully reproduced.

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XVII. THE TUNING-FORK—THE SYREN—SOUND FIGURES—SINGING FLAMES

We cannot close the subject of Sound without some mention of the Musical Pitch, and various instruments and experiments which have from time to time been made to discover the pitch, sound, and vibrations, and even to see Sound. To understand the vibrations or “pitch” of a musical note we may study the illustration, which shows us a tuning-fork in vibration.

You will perceive that each prong of the tuning-fork beats the air in an opposite direction at the same time, say from a to b (fig. 196). The prong strikes the air, and the wave thus created strikes again outward, and the condensation thus created travels along the back beat, rarefying the air, and both these, the rarefaction and the condensation, move with the same rapidity one behind the other.

The tuning-fork of course vibrates a very great many times in a second, every vibration generating a wave. “Pitch,” in a general sense, is the number of vibrations per second which constitute a note. For instance, the note A, the standard pitch consists of four hundred and thirty-five complete vibrations per second. Concert pitch is slightly higher, for there are a few more vibrations in the second. The lowest sound pitch is forty vibrations, the highest forty thousand. “Pitch” may be determined by an instrument termed the “Syren,” or by a tooth-wheeled apparatus.

The SYREN was invented by Cagniard de Latour. It consists of a metal cylinder, a tube passes through the bottom, and through the tube air is blown into the cylinder. On the top a number of holes are drilled, while just over the cylinder top, almost in contact with it, is a metallic disc, which rotates upon a vertical axis. The disc is perforated with holes equal in number to those in the cylinder top, but the holes are not perpendicular, they slope in opposite directions. So when the air is forced through the holes in the top of the cylinder it impinges upon one side of the holes in the rotating disc, and blows it round.

The disc in one revolution will therefore open and shut as many holes as there are in the disc and cylinder, and the air blown in will escape in so many puffs—the number of puffs in a given time depending upon the rapidity of rotation. There is an arrangement to show the number of turns. By these rotations a sound is produced which rises in pitch as the revolutions are increased in number.

To determine the pitch of a certain sound we must find the number of times the plate revolves in that time, then we shall have the number of vibrations per second required to produce the note we desire. The arrangement working in a notched wheel tells us the number of rotations of the disc. Successive, and rapidly-successive puffs or beats are heard as the rotation increases, and at length the two sounds will disappear, and merge into one, which is perhaps that of the tuning-fork, whose note you require to find the “pitch” of. By maintaining this rate for a minute or less, and setting the gear to tell the revolutions, the number will be found marked on the dial of the apparatus. So by multiplying the number of revolutions of the disc by the number of the holes, and dividing the product by the number of seconds during which the disc was in connection with the recording gear, we shall have the number of vibrations per second necessary to produce the pitch corresponding to the given sound. The above is the description of one form of Syren; there are others, which, however, we need not detail.

We have seen that there are certain nodal points, or resting-places, in vibrations, and this can easily be shown upon a fiddle-string, from which paper discs will fall off except on the nodal point, showing that there is no vibration there. The same experiment may be made by means of plates, which will give us what are termed Chladni’s figures. Suppose we strew a glass-plate with fine sand, and stroke the edge with a fiddle-bow. The vibrations of the plates will make certain patterns, and cast the sand upon those points of repose to form nodal lines in various directions. The plates must, of course, be held or fastened, and a variety of sound figures may be produced. (See figs. 198 and 199.)

The relation between the number of segments on the plate and the pitch of the note, can be ascertained by using a circular plate clamped in the centre. “If the finger on the plate and the fiddle-bow are one-eighth of the circumference apart, the fundamental note will be produced. If one-sixteenth apart, the higher octave will be heard.”

Sensitive flames will detect air vibrations, and flames can also be made to sing. Sensitive flames were discovered by Mr. Barrett, who noticed the effect a shrill note had upon a gas flame from a tapering jet. The flame was a very long one (fourteen inches), and when the sound was produced it shortened at once, while the upper part expanded like a fan; the same effects, in a less marked degree, were observable when the shrill sound was prolonged from a distance of forty feet. Professor Tyndall was immediately interested in this discovery, and in January 1867 he lectured upon it at the Royal Institution.

If any one wish to try the experiment, a piece of glass tubing should be obtained, and let the mouth be tapered down to a small orifice one-sixteenth of an inch in diameter. Then when the highest pressure is on for the evening, light the gas and sound a shrill whistle. The flame will sink down and spread out. The illuminating power may thus be increased, and many experiments may be made. For instance, if a person be in the room and try to read, he will probably not be able to do so at a little distance; but if his friend whistle to the gas it will so expand itself as to enable him to read, so long as the whistle lasts.

A very ingenious burglar-detector was made upon the principle of the sensitive flame, which expands at a noise and heats a welded plate of gold, silver, and platinum. The plate swerves aside, the metals being unequally affected by heat, and as it is connected with a battery, rings a bell by electricity. A small high flame has been made sensitive to the chinking of coin, or even to the ticking of a watch. We will now give some explanation, derived partly from Professor Tyndall, of the cause of sensitive flames.

A sensitive flame is one just on the point of “roaring,” and about to change its aspect. “It stands,” says Tyndall, “on the edge of a precipice. The proper sound pushes it over.... We bring it to the verge of falling, and the sonorous pulses precipitate what was already imminent.” The flame is in a state of vibration, so sounds being vibrations, practically increase the pressure; and the flame acknowledges the pressure thus invisibly applied by air waves.

SINGING FLAMES are produced by burning hydrogen in a tube; a musical note is thus produced in the same way as the air causes a note in an organ pipe. Faraday attributed the sound to rapid vibration caused by successive explosions of the burning gas. The Gas Harmonicon has been made on this principle. The air, being heated in the glass tube, ascends, and the flame is thus permitted to come up more forcibly in the tube; so violent agitation results when the air tries to get into the opening above. The size of the flame and its position in the tube will give a certain note which will be the same note as the air would emit if in a pipe, for the vibrations give the sound.

Sir Charles Wheatstone has shown by experiment how sound can be transmitted by placing a rod on a musical-box, and carrying the rod through the ceiling. When a guitar or violin was placed upon the rod, the sounds of the musical-box were distinctly heard in the upper room. A Phantom Band can be made by connecting certain instruments with others being played on under the stage. Every one will then appear to play by itself.

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XVIII. ELECTRICITY

DERIVATION OF ELECTRICITY—SEALING-WAX EXPERIMENT—THE ELECTROPHORUS—LEYDEN JAR—POSITIVE AND NEGATIVE—THE ELECTROSCOPE—ELECTRIC MACHINES.

We have now briefly and of course imperfectly reviewed the phenomena of Vibration, as exemplified in what we term Heat, Light, and Sound. We now come to a most mysterious servant of mankind, as mysterious as any Djinn of romance; viz., ELECTRICITY.

The term Electricity is derived from the Greek word electron, meaning “amber”; because from amber the properties of what we call “Electricity” were first discovered. Six hundred years before the Christian Era, Thales wrote concerning the attraction which amber, when rubbed, possessed for light and dry bodies. But it is to an Englishman named Gilbert that we owe the word “Electricity,” which he derived from the Greek, and in his works (about 1600 A.D.) he discusses the force of the so-called “fluid.” Otto von Guerike, of “air-pump” celebrity, and many other philosophers after him, continued the investigation of the subject. At the beginning of the last century great attention was paid to the Electric Machine. The Leyden Jar was, as its name denotes, discovered by Muschenbrock, of Leyden, (though the honour was disputed). Franklin made the first lightning conductor in 1760. Volta and Galvani, to whose invention we owe “Voltaic Electricity” and “Galvanism,” and Faraday in more modern times gave a great impetus to electrical science. The great part that electricity has been playing in the domestic history of the world since Faraday’s lamented death, is probably known to the youngest of our readers. What the future of this agent may be we can only guess, but even now we may regard electricity as only in its infancy.

There are few scientific studies more attractive to the general reader than electricity, and few admit of more popular demonstration. The success of the late electrical exhibition in Paris, and its successor in London at the present time, are proofs of the interest taken in this great and mysterious agent whose origin we are in ignorance of, and of whose nature and powers we are daily discovering more and more, and finding there is still an immense field for its application.

Some fundamental facts regarding electricity may very easily be studied with the assistance of every-day objects at hand. Amber was the first substance to show attraction when rubbed, but Gilbert found out that glass and sealing-wax, etc., possessed like properties with amber.

If we rub a stick of sealing-wax with a piece of cloth, we shall see that it will attract some small fragments of paper placed near it. Nothing is easier than to construct a small pendulum to show with perfect clearness the phenomenon of electric attraction. A piece of iron is fixed on a wooden pedestal, and supports a thread of silk, to the end of which is fastened a little ball cut out of a piece of cork. The stick of sealing-wax after being rubbed with the cloth will attract the ball as shown in fig. 200.

By means of a piece of paper we can produce a spark. I take a large, strong sheet of drawing paper, heat it very thoroughly, and lay it on a wooden table. I rub it with a perfectly dry hand, or with a piece of woollen material until it adheres to the table. That done, I place a bunch of keys in the centre of the sheet of paper, which I raise, lifting it by two corners. If at this moment any one touches the bunch of keys with his finger, a bright spark will be elicited. The metal is charged with the electricity developed on the paper; if the weather is dry, and the paper thoroughly heated several times, the spark may attain nearly an inch in length.

We can easily construct other electrical apparatus. For instance, an “Electrophorus,” or instrument for obtaining electricity by means of induction, or a Leyden jar, can both be made at home. Let us proceed to construct the former, of which we give an illustration (fig. 201).

We take a lacquered tea-tray about a foot long, and cut out a sheet of thick wrapping paper, so that it will lie over all the level portion of the tray. At each side of this sheet of paper we fix two bands of paper, as in the illustration (fig. 201), so as to serve as handles. The tea-tray should be placed upon two tumblers to support it and to insulate it, glass being a “non-conductor.” (We will speak of conductors and non-conductors presently.) We have now our Electrophorus made ready for action; let us proceed to see how it will act.

First, rub the thick packing paper over a hot fire or a stove, and the friction must be continued for some time, until the paper has become thoroughly dry, and as hot as possible without charring. When this has been accomplished, place it quickly upon a wooden table, and rub it rapidly and energetically with a clothes’ brush, dry and hard as can be obtained. Place the paper upon the tray; touch the tray with the knuckle, and draw away the paper by the handles fixed to it (see fig. 201); a spark will result. Then if the paper be replaced upon the tray, and the hand again presented, the same result will follow. This experiment may be repeated five or six times, at least, with success.

We have in this tea-tray and its paper covering a real electric machine. How can we manage to provide a Leyden jar to contain our electricity? Nothing is more easy. Let us take a tumbler and partly fill it with shot; insert into the glass a tea-spoon, and if all the articles are quite dry we shall possess a Leyden jar.

To charge the jar we have thus provided we must work the Electrophorus we have already described. While one person lifts off the paper as directed, another must hold the glass filled with shot close to the edge of the tray, and touch the corner with the tea-spoon; the spark will then enter the “jar” or tumbler. We can thus charge the jar as we please, and by presenting the finger as in the illustration (fig. 202), we shall obtain a discharge from it.

Mr. Louis Figuier, in his “Merveilles de la Science,” relates that Wollaston, meeting one of his friends one evening in the streets of London, drew from his pocket a copper thimble, and proceeded to turn it into a microscopic pile.[13]

In order to do this he removed the bottom of the thimble, flattened it with a stone, so as to bring the two internal surfaces about on a line with each other, then placed between the copper surfaces a small strip of zinc, which was not in contact with the copper, owing to the interposition of a little sealing-wax. He then placed it in a glass cup, previously filled with the contents of a small phial of water, acidulated with sulphuric acid. He next wound round the strip of zinc and its copper covering a piece of platinum wire, the wire becoming red through the electricity developed in the pile. The dimensions of this platinum wire were extremely small; it was only 30/1000 of an inch in diameter, and 1/30 of an inch in length. By reason of its small dimensions it could not only be reddened, but fused by the little battery.

Thus Wollaston’s friend, who was a witness of the experiment, was able to light a tinder at the red wire. In this little battery of Wollaston’s the copper enveloped the strip of zinc in every part; that is to say, the negative element was on a higher surface than the positive metal.

After considering Electricity, it is not impossible to approach the study of Magnetism, and even to construct a mariner’s compass. We shall find the method of doing so by borrowing an interesting passage from the “Magasin Pittoresque.” Let us take a small cork and pass through it an ordinary knitting-needle (fig. 203), which we have already magnetized by placing it N.S., rubbing it gently, and always in the same direction, with one of those little iron magnets with which children amuse themselves. After the needle has been passed through the cork, we also fix into it a sewing-needle, or rather a pin, the point of which rests in one of the little holes in the upper part of the thimble. In order to balance the magnetised needle, we thrust a match into both sides of the cork, as shown in the illustration, and fasten to the ends of each a ball of wax. Thus the needle, the balls, and the pin are all balanced at once, so that the contrivance has the appearance of the illustration.

As it is very important that with such a sensitive instrument any agitation of the air should be avoided, the thimble must be placed at the bottom of a common earthen pan, B D T, which should be covered over with a piece of glass, V. To graduate the compass a circle is described on a piece of paper. On this dial we trace the divisions sufficiently close only at the north extremity of the needle, and the paper is fixed underneath, as in fig. 203. Then we fix a piece of wax at the end of the match pointing N., opposite the northern extremity of the needle inside the basin. In this way we have a very useful and inexpensive compass.

We may also magnetize a fine sewing-needle, and grease it by rubbing it with a little suet. It is then capable of floating on the surface of water running in the direction of the north pole. We might go on multiplying indefinitely examples of physical experiments without apparatus, but we have probably already given a sufficient number to aid our readers in imagining others.

We have now in a simple manner shown how we can easily produce electricity. We may understand that electrical phenomena are produced—(1) friction between different bodies; (2) by placing bodies which differ in contact; (3) by the transition of bodies from one condition to another; (4) by chemical changes; (5) by animals. The two first, and the fourth, are the most usual causes.

We know that certain substances when rubbed with silk or wool acquire the property of attracting other substances. But in the case of a rod of glass or stick of wax, the attraction will only be perceived when the rubbing has been applied. But metal will behave differently. Any part of the metal rod will continue to attract. So metals are CONDUCTORS of electricity; while glass, wax, silk, amber, sulphur, etc., are bad, or NON-CONDUCTORS. Metals are the best conductors we have, but trees, plants, liquids, and the bodies of animals, including men, are all good conductors of electricity. Dry air is a bad conductor.

There are two kinds of electricity, known as positive and negative (plus or minus), vitreous or resinous. We saw in fig. 200 that we can attract a small ball of pith or cork by a piece of sealing-wax rubbed with flannel. If we then present a glass rod rubbed with silk to it, it will be equally attracted, but will be at once repelled; and after being so repelled, if we put the wax to it, it will be attracted to the sealing-wax again. So wax at first attracts then repels the ball, and so does glass, but either will attract the ball if presented alternately (fig. 204). The reason for this is as follows:—

When we have rubbed the glass with silk, we charge it with positive electricity, and when the rod touches the ball, the latter imbibes that electricity, and flies away from the glass rod. The sealing-wax imparts negative electricity in the same way.

The law is, that bodies charged with the same kind of electricity repel each other, and those containing the opposite kinds attract each other. Positive repels positive; negative repels negative. But positive attracts negative, and negative attracts positive. Opposite electricities unite, and so neutralize each other that no effect is perceived; but it must be borne in mind that all bodies possess both electricities in some quantity, greater or less. By rubbing we separate these electricities, the rubber becoming negative, the rub_bee_ positive. The friction of glass supplies positive electricity, and sealing-wax supplies negative electricity, or we can obtain the same effect by rubbing either with certain material.

The manner in which a body is electrified depends upon its nature and condition; but we may accept as a general axiom,—but by no means as a law,—that when two bodies are rubbed together, that which gets the hotter in the process takes the negative kind of electricity. In the following list the substances have been so arranged that each is negatively electrified by those preceding, and positively by those succeeding it. 1, cat’s skin; 2, glass; 3, woollen stuffs; 4, feathers; 5, wood; 6, paper; 7, silk; 8, shellac; 9, rough glass. We append a list of conducting and non-conducting bodies in their order:—

CONDUCTORS.

Metals. Lime, coal, or coke. Saline mixtures. Pure water. Vegetable tissues. Animal tissues. Hot air. Steam. Rarefied air.

NON-CONDUCTORS.

Ice. India-rubber. Marble. Porcelain. Resin. Dry gases. Paper. Wool. Silk. Shell-lac. Diamond. Glass. Wax. Sulphur.

It should be observed that the degree of value as a conductor or non-conductor depends somewhat upon the atmosphere. For instance, glass is an excellent insulator, or non-conductor, when dry, but when wet it changes to a conductor. So insulators are at times covered with a solution of shell-lac, or fat, to keep away moisture. We may reasonably conclude that bodies which are good and bad conductors are good and bad conductors of electricity. Water is a good conductor, air is a bad one; were it otherwise, electricity would escape from the ground into the air; as it is, the air manages in some degree to retain the electricity at the surface of bodies, for it is on the surface that we find the electric “fluid.”

We have mentioned electrical induction in a former experiment with the tea-tray. We will now explain it more fully, as a consideration of it will bring us to the electric spark, or lightning, with the account of the discovery of the Conductor and the Electrical Machine.

Let us look at the illustration next below. A B is a cylinder supported on a glass rod, and at each extremity is a small pith ball, a and b. The cylinder is in a neutral condition, as is evidenced at first by the pellets being in a vertical position. But suppose we bring a ball, C, towards the cylinder. C is charged with positive electricity, which attracts the negative to itself, and so repels the positive away at the opposite side. So the pellet at one side will be attracted to C, and the other will fly in an opposite direction.

Let us take another illustration. Here we have a horizontal metal rod, cc′, insulated on a glass stand. Two balls of cork are attached at both ends of the rod by metallic wires. Hold a rod of resin, r, which has been made negatively electrical, and apply it to one pair of the cork balls. The positive electricity will be attracted at c′ and the negative repulsed, and fly away at c. If we remove the resin the equilibrium will be again established, and the balls will fall to a vertical position.

We can also by drawing off the negative electricity by the finger at c, while the resin rod is still held to the other side, c′, fill the whole of the metal rod with the positive electricity when the finger and the resin have been removed respectively first and last. The balls will then fly in opposite directions again, in consequence of the repulsion exercised by the positive poles.

The “Electrophore,” or “Electrophorus,” we have already learned to make for ourselves, as also the Leyden Jar. But we give cuts of them. The former is very simple, and can be made by mixing two parts of shell-lac and one of turpentine, and pouring the mixture upon a metal plate. If this be rubbed with a cat’s skin when dry, and a metal cover with a glass handle be placed upon it, it will be found that the positive and negative electricity are collected on the lower and upper surfaces of the plate respectively, and can be drawn away with a spark as before, and made use of.

The Leyden Jar requires a little more detailed description, as it is to it we are indebted for our Battery. It is a common glass bottle or jar, coated both inside and out with tinfoil nearly as high as the shoulder, a a. The mouth should be firmly closed with a bung of wood, g g; a hole should be bored in the bung, through which a brass rod is tightly pushed. The rod, too, is topped by a brass knob, and a brass chain is attached to the other extremity. The interior of the tinfoil receives positive electricity, and the exterior negative when the jar is charged from the “Electrophorus.” To discharge the jar and create a shock it is necessary to put one hand on the outside, and the other on the knob of the jar. A brilliant spark and a severe shock will result if the jar has been fully charged. It is as well to be cautious when trying this experiment. The effect of the shock may be felt by any number of persons joining hands, if one at one end of the row, and one at the other end, touch the knob and the outside of the jar simultaneously.

This electric discharge is lightning in miniature, and it is to Benjamin Franklin that the world is indebted for the discovery. The philosopher was greatly interested in the science of Electricity and, having retired from business, he devoted himself to the consideration of thunderstorms. He wrote a treatise to show that points drew off electricity, and that electricity and lightning were similar. He urged that metallic rods might be attached to ships and buildings, so that during thunderstorms, or at other times, the electricity might be harmlessly carried into the ground. This suggestion he made without being able to explain why points did carry off electricity without a spark. The reason is because there is no place to store it; it runs away at once, without having time to collect, as in a ball.

Franklin made one or two experiments before his renowned kite-flying arrangement, which convinced him that electricity was by no means an agent to be played with. He endeavoured to kill a turkey by electricity, but by incautious handling of the jars in which the “fluid” was stored, he discharged them, and describes the result: “The flash was very great, and the crack was as loud as a pistol; yet my senses being instantly gone, I neither saw the one nor heard the other, nor did I feel the stroke on my hand, though I afterwards found it raised a round swelling where the fire entered as big as half a pistol bullet.” On a subsequent occasion he was again struck senseless while endeavouring to administer a shock to a paralytic patient.

It was not until June 1752 that Franklin made the experiment with the kite, which resulted in such great discoveries. He made his kite of a silk pocket-handkerchief, and he fixed a pointed rod upon the upright portion of the frame at the top; the string ended in a foot or so of silk, which was held by the philosopher, and to the end of the hempen portion of the string a large key was tied. For some time, notwithstanding the approach of most unmistakable thunder-clouds, his patience was tried. But at last the strands of the hempen string began to bristle up, and soon after, when Franklin applied his knuckle to the key, a spark was obtained. The great discovery was made. Franklin subsequently obtained lightning in his own house, and performed several experiments with it.

The Electroscope (fig. 211) is an instrument by which we can ascertain whether electricity is present or not, and the nature of it. If we bring an object unelectrified close to the ball or knob on the top of the glass shade, the two needles, or strips of gold-leaf, which are often used, will remain still. But if the body has been electrified it will communicate the electricity to the rod inside, and attract to itself the fluid of opposite quality; the same kind of electricity then is in action in the gold-leaf or needles, and they fly apart—repel each other. Supposing that positive electricity were first communicated, we can cause the contraction of the leaves or wires by applying a negative kind, which, meeting the positive, neutralizes it, and the wires collapse.

If the electricity with which the instrument is charged be positive, by approaching the baton to the ball, A, we shall see the wires diverge more than before, and they will finally be discharged by the knobs within. If the electricity be contrary to that in the baton, the wires will approach each other, but by gradually withdrawing the baton they will again separate, and even to a greater distance than before.

The Electric Machine is shown in the illustration (fig. 212). It consists of a large plate of glass fixed upon a glass stand, between wooden supports. The handle is of glass; two pairs of rubbers are fastened above and below; the plate is turned between them, and becomes “positively” electrified. The rubbers are covered with leather and stuffed with horsehair, DD, and press very tightly against the glass, so that the friction is constant. The rubbers are covered with an amalgam made of mercury, zinc, and tin, two parts of the first to one each of the others. A chain (of metal) connects the machine with the ground. The conductors, PP, are united by a cross-piece, Q, and sustained upon glass supports. At the end of the conductors are two curved rods, CC, which are provided with points to take the electricity from the plate, but do not touch it.

The electricity is thus stored in the insulated conductors as the machine is turned. The negative portion is carried into the ground by the chain from the rubbers, while the positive electricity is retained. The longer we turn the more we shall obtain, and the quantity is measured by an electric pendulum on one of the conductors, which flies out by degrees as the charge increases, and indicates its power by means of a needle it works upon an ivory index.

It is not difficult to make an electric machine out of a glass bottle. This will furnish the glass cylinder. If a stick be run through it (for which purpose a hole must be drilled in the bottom of the bottle), a handle can be fixed, and the bottle mounted on a stand. A wash-leather cushion, stuffed, can be so arranged that it will press against the bottle as it is turned; a piece of silk should be permitted to hang from the cushion frame over the glass. A conductor may be made from a piece of wood neatly rounded and smoothed, and coated with tinfoil. The ends should be rounded like “knobs.” Stick pins in to collect the electricity (and it will be readily obtained). The cushion should of course be well smeared with amalgam. From this, as well as from the glass-plate machine, the “positive” electricity can be drawn off and stored in a Leyden jar, and then discharged by the “discharging rod,” which is represented on the cut. It may have one or two handles, and one knob is placed outside the jar, the other near the ball surmounting it. The glass being a non-conductor saves the operator, and some long sparks and loud reports may be obtained.

The Electric Machine is always assumed to give off positive electricity.

Sir William Armstrong’s Electric Machine is a mode of obtaining electricity by moist steam. The design is Armstrong’s, and Professor Faraday subsequently went into all the conditions to produce the “fluid” by the friction of steam. The machine was something like a small boiler supported on glass legs. A row of nozzles was fixed upon the escape pipe so as to create a great velocity and friction in the escaping steam. Round the nozzles was a box of cold water, for that fluid was found necessary for the production of electricity as demonstrated by Professor Faraday. The steam rushed against a row of points attached to the prime conductor of an electric machine, and the electricity of the steam was thus given off to the conductor. There are many other forms of electric machines, but it will serve no purpose to detail them.

The Electric Battery (see fig. 206) is formed by a collection of Leyden jars. The inside and outside coatings are connected in a box divided into partitions lined with tinfoil. The rods of the jars are also connected, as in the illustration, by brass rods, and when this battery is charged people should be careful how they handle it, for a shock may be produced which would cause serious injury, if not death. The battery can be charged from the machine by a chain fastened to the central ball, while a second chain connects the exterior of the box and all the outside of the jars, by means of the handle, to the ground.

When electricity is at rest it is termed “static electricity,” and when in motion “dynamic” electricity. The latter treats of electric currents which can be sent through wires or chains. We can keep this current moving by means of a machine, and the battery called a Voltaic battery, from Volta. We will describe it presently. Electric currents can be measured, for they may be of different strengths according to the battery, and they are measured by the GALVANOMETER. Electricity can therefore be transferred and carried by the conducting substances, and much heat will be engendered as the “electric fluid” passes along a wire. Lightning frequently fuses bell-wires as it passes, and when we touch upon Galvanism or Dynamical Electricity we shall hear more about it.

By the Electric Machine we can obtain some very powerful currents of electricity; we can produce many pleasing effects, and perform a number of experiments, such as making balls or figures of pith dance, and several other easy and entertaining tricks, which will be found in books more specially devoted to the entertainment of young people.

We have now given some explanation of the manner in which electrical phenomena can be produced,—viz., by the Electric Machine and by the Leyden Jar,—but we must not expect to find any electricity inside any charged body. It has been proved that all the electricity is upon the surface of bodies, even if in varying quantity, and that equal quantities of electricity are always produced when bodies are excited by friction, but the kinds are different. The rubbing body is of one kind, the body rubbed another, and consequently the forces neutralize each other. The two forces or kinds of electricity we have seen repel or attract each other, and we can imagine the farther they are apart the less will be the force, and the rate of diminution of force, according to distance, is ascertained by an ingenious apparatus called a “Torsion” Electromoter, which was constructed by Coulomb, and was frequently used by Faraday.

Perhaps some people may not be aware of the term “torsion.” It means twisting, and “the torsion of a thread suspended vertically is the force tending to twist the lower extremity when the upper end is turned through an angle.” This instrument is really an Electromoter, and is not considered suited to beginners, and it is scarcely accurate in its workings. We need not therefore describe it in detail. There are some excellent Electromoters, the Elliott being, we believe, the best for use. A full and detailed description of the Quadrant Electromoter will be found in Mr. Gordon’s treatise on Electricity.

Recapitulation of foregoing Chapter. So far, we have seen there is electricity in everything, although some bodies are termed conductors and others non-conductors; though, as in applying the terms heat and cold, we must remember that no body is entirely devoid of electricity, and no body is therefore an absolute non-conductor any more than any object is absolutely devoid of heat. Faraday, indeed, was of opinion that “conduction and insulation are only extreme degrees of one common condition”; they are identical both in principle and action, except that in conduction an effect common to both is raised to the highest degree, and in the case of insulation it occurs in an almost insensible quantity.

We have also read of positive and negative electricities, and we must not fancy there is any particular reason for this distinction. It was Du Fay, whom we have mentioned, who gave the names “vitreous” and “resinous” to the two kinds, as one was developed by rubbing glass, and the other by rubbing resin. But, as shown by our experiments, either kind of electricity can be excited in glass or sealing-wax, and both kinds are produced at once. You cannot get “positive” without negative electricity. “Positive” is the term applied to the kind produced by rubbing glass with silk or wool; “negative” is the term applied to the kind developed by rubbing sealing-wax, but the kind developed by friction depends on the rubbing substance and certain conditions.

Bodies charged with the same electricity repel; if charged with different kinds they attract each other. The more readily displaced particles when bodies are rubbed become negatively electrified as a rule.

Similar electricities repel each other with a force inversely proportional to the squares of the distance between their centres, as established by Coulomb. So if the space between any two similarly electrified bodies be reduced by say one-half, the force of the repulsion will be increased four times. The rule for attraction is similar; so when two bodies are charged with opposite electricities, and the distance between them is increased, the attractive force is diminished in proportion as the square of the distance between them. Many confirmations of this theory were made by the late friend of our boyhood, Sir W. Snow Harris, and published in the Philosophical Transactions.

The following full list of conductors and non-conductors (copied from Professor Noad’s Text-book of Electricity, and compared with De La Rive’s Treatise) may be useful:—

CONDUCTING BODIES IN ORDER OF CONDUCTING POWER.

All the metals. Well-burnt charcoal. Plumbago. Concentrated acids. Powdered charcoal. Dilute acids. Saline solutions.

INSULATORS IN THE INVERSE ORDER OF INSULATING POWER.

Dry metallic oxides. Oils (heavier the better). Vegetable ashes. Transparent dry crystals. Ice below 13° Fahr. Phosphorus. Lime.

CONDUCTING BODIES IN ORDER OF CONDUCTING POWER.

Metallic ores. Animal fluids. Sea-water. Spring-water. Rain-water. Ice above 13° Fahr. Snow. Living vegetables. Living animals. Flame smoke. Steam. Salts soluble in water. Rarefied air. Vapour of alcohol. Vapour of ether. Moist earth and stones. Powdered glass. Flowers of sulphur.

INSULATORS IN THE INVERSE ORDER OF INSULATING POWER.

Dry chalk. Native carbonate of baryta. Lycopodium. Caoutchouc. Camphor. Silicious and argillaceous stones. Dry marble. Porcelain. Dry vegetables. Baked wood. Leather. Parchment. Dry paper. Hair. Wool. Dyed silk. Bleached silk. Raw silk.

The following may be added to the Insulators, viz.:—

Transparent precious stones. Diamond. Mica. All vitrefactions. Glass. Jet. Wax. Sulphur. Resins. Amber. Gutta-percha. Shell-lac (or gum-lac). Ebonite.

There are, as we know, two kinds of electricity, the static and dynamic; and when the latter state is instantaneous, it is referred to as the “electric discharge,” which occurs when opposite electricities seek each other, and the bodies return to a state of equilibrium or neutralization. “These bodies, if insulated, obtain no more electricity after the spark has passed; but if there be a constant source of negative electricity supplying one, and a constant source of negative electricity supplying the other, there will be a succession of sparks; and if they communicate by a conductor there will be, through this conductor, an uninterrupted neutralization of a continual reunion of the two electricities, and this is what is termed the continuous dynamic state or electric current” (De la Rive).

FOOTNOTES:

[13] This interesting experiment, which we have exactly verified, was described to us by Professor Waldner, and M. A. Keppler.

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Chapter XIX

VELOCITY OF ELECTRICITY—EXPERIMENTS—THE ELECTRIC EGG—FORCE OF THE ELECTRIC SPARK.

We are now acquainted with many facts concerning electricity, and have seen that electrical phenomena can be produced by the Electric Machine and the Leyden Jar. (An insulating stool—a stool with glass legs—is a very desirable adjunct for those who wish to experiment with the machine). Glass is a great insulator, or non-conductor, as a Russian philosopher found to his cost. He had an iron lightning-conductor from his house into his room, the end not connected with the earth but with a glass. One day the lightning came down the rod and reached the glass; had a communication been made with the earth by a chain, or directly, no mischief would have ensued. As it happened, however, the current was checked by the glass, and immediately darted towards him; it struck him in the head, and killed the poor man on the spot. If no insulating stool were used, the body charged would be discharged upon contact with the ground.

The velocity of electricity is very great, and experiments have frequently been made. Wheatstone undertook to ascertain the speed of the electric fluid, and the instrument he employed he called a “Chronoscope.” He caused a mirror to revolve with enormous velocity, and measured the speed by the vibrations of air, which produced a certain note by the same motive power. (We know already that certain notes are produced by a certain number of vibrations per second.) Wheatstone’s Chronoscope consisted of this mirror, in front of which was placed a circular block of wood, in which, in a row, were set six wires carrying small knobs; round these and over the wood he put an insulating varnish. A Leyden jar was connected outside with the first knob; between the second and third a quarter of a mile of copper wire was coiled, and a like length of wire between the fourth and fifth; the inside of the Leyden jar was then connected with the last knob, and the spark passed; it ran from knob to knob over the long coils of wire. If all the flashes over the wire and knobs occurred simultaneously the mirror would show them side by side; if not, as the mirror turned a trifle, the difference would be observed. The mirror did show a slight retardation in the passage of the flash, and from certain measurements and calculations Wheatstone estimated the velocity of the spark to be 288,000 miles a second. This rate will carry electricity round the earth in about a twelfth of a second, a rate Puck never dreamed of when he promised to “put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.”

But it appeared from investigations subsequently made that it was not possible to express the velocity of electricity with any certainty, and a number of experiments were made as per the following table, with very different results. Sir William Thomson and Faraday endeavoured to account for these stupendous discrepancies, and the principles of retardation of electricity were established. The differences are shown below:—

Nature of Velocity per Wire. Second. Wheatstone’s Experiment in 1834 Copper 288,000 Gonella and Fizeau {Copper 111,834 {Iron 62,130 Mitchell Iron 28,331 Walker Iron 18,639 Gould Iron 15,830 Astronomers in Greenwich Copper 7,600 “ Brussels Copper 2,700 Result in Atlantic Cable, 1857 Copper 1,430 “ “ 1858 Copper 3,000

To account for the comparatively low velocities of the cables, Faraday proved that they act very much as a Leyden jar acts; that is, it takes time to fill, as it were, and to discharge them, the wire coating of the cable in air acting like the outer coating of the jar or the water in the case of an immersed cable, and the retardation observed is owing to resistance of conduction, and depends upon the way in which the electrical impulses traverse the wire. “There is a long, gradual swell, and still more gradual subsidence of the electric current, and the length of time that elapses between the initial impulse and the attainment of maximum strength, is proportional to the square of the length of the line.”

The duration of the electric spark has been calculated at the 1/24000 part of a second, but Professor Tyndall regards this as the longest or nearly the longest time it is perceptible; the shortest time is almost inconceivable. The brightest portion of a spark has been ascertained to last only forty-six millionths of a second, and certain experiments were made to ascertain the actual duration with various numbers of Leyden jars. It was discovered by Messrs. Lucas and Cuzin, by an application of the Vernier, with batteries consisting variously of two to eight jars, and obtained the following results[14]—

Duration in No. of Jars. millionths of a Second. 2 26 4 41 6 45 8 47

“So,” adds the writer, “the duration (of spark) increases in proportion with the number of the jars. It increases also with the striking distance, but is independent of the diameter of the balls or globes between which the spark strikes.”

Many examples might be given of the spark discharge of the electric current. This form is seen in the blue line extending between the knob of a machine and the hand, and the duration of a spark with a jar charged with an induction coil is stated by Professor Rood to vary, but the brightest portion with a jar of 114 square inches only existed for the 175th billionth of a second, and with a smaller surface was much shorter. Such a spark may be conducted to a plate of gunpowder and will not ignite it, because the time of the duration of the “fire” is not sufficiently long; the powder will be scattered, but not ignited. If, however, a partly non-conducting medium be interposed between the jar and the powder, so that the spark be retarded a little, the gunpowder will be fired.

While speaking of electric discharge we may remark upon the beautiful effect of lightning. These discharges are sometimes miles long, and by the return stroke from the cloud may kill a person a long way from the actual discharge. This phenomenon was illustrated by Viscount Mahon in 1779, in a very interesting book on the principles of electricity.

There are different ways in which the electric discharge shows itself. We have spoken about the spark discharge which, however, is found to present very different appearances in varying conditions. Professor Faraday proved that the colour of the electric sparks showed in air, when obtained with brass balls, the intense light and blue colour so familiar to all. In nitrogen they are even bluer. In oxygen again the sparks are much brighter than in air, but not so brilliant. In hydrogen they become crimson, but the sound is almost inaudible because of the physical character of the gas. In carbonic acid gas they are almost the same as in atmospheric air, only more irregular. In dry muriatic gas they are nearly white and very bright. In coal gas the colours vary—sometimes being green and sometimes red. Occasionally the same spark will be red and green at different extremities, and even black portions have been observed. The density and pressure of the atmosphere has been proved to exercise considerable influence upon the spark discharge.

The “Brush” discharge is shown in “a series of intermittent discharges which appear continuous.” This discharge assumes the shape of a fan. “It is accompanied with a low chattering sound,” which is the result of the separate and continuous discharges, and Faraday also demonstrated that its effects varied according to the medium in which it was exhibited.

The effect of the air pressure on electricity may be observed in the following way:—

If we pass a spark through rarefied air by an apparatus known as the Electric Egg, we may obtain many curious effects. The “egg” consists of a glass globe, through which enter two rods with a knob upon each inside end. The upper rod is moveable, and held in its place by a “cap” like the lower rod. There is a stop-cock in the lower cap, so that the egg may be fastened to any plate or stand. When the egg is filled with air, the electric spark passed into the glass globe has the usual appearance, but as the air is gradually rarefied by an air-pump, the spark assumes beautiful forms and colours. As the exhaustion continues, however, we shall find the spark decreasing in brilliancy, and finally the spark will cease to be visible. It thus is shown that the colour of the spark depends upon the gaseous medium and on the material of the conductors, and when the electric spark is faint this medium can be observed, for nitrogen will produce a blue tinge and carbonic acid a green; hydrogen gives us a red, as already remarked. By multiplying the number of eggs and plates of glass, and placing discs of tinfoil in various shapes at certain distances, many beautiful figures may be observed when the spark is set free.

Professor Tyndall at the Royal Institution showed a very pretty experiment. He took a funnel with a very fine bore, and permitted sand to flow from it as it will in the hour-glass. When he permitted the electric current to come in contact with the sand, however, it, instead of falling vertically to the table, spread out fan-like, each grain repelling and being repelled by its neighbour with an effect very beautiful to see. Luminous effects have frequently been produced by passing an electric spark through various bodies. For instance, a lump of sugar can be made quite brilliant in the dark by passing electricity through it, and there are other substances similarly affected. Even eggs and some fruits are thus made phosphorescent. The illumination of the “diamond” covered Leyden jar is familiar to all who ever attended a lecture on Electricity.

The various effects of the electric discharge need not here be described. We have witnessed the results of lightning, but even in our laboratory many pretty little experiments can be made, such as the perforation of a card by the electric discharge. The chemical effects are various. Decomposition of water is effected by electricity, and the discharge can also be, and has been utilized for military purposes, such as employed by Professor Abel in his fuse, and in his apparatus for firing mines. Experiments at Chatham and elsewhere have been very successful in the application of electricity to modern warfare.

We will illustrate one or two of these. A thick card should be placed, as in the illustration (fig. 216), between two insulated points, and to the lower portion of the apparatus a chain be attached, held in the hand, and wound round the Leyden jar. If then the knob of the jar and the knob above the upper point be brought together, the spark will pass through the card.

In the same manner a glass may be perforated if the current be stronger. Of course the whole apparatus—and particularly the plate—must be quite dry, and it will be better to put a drop of oil under the upper needle point so as to prevent the electricity spreading over the glass. The glass will be found pierced by the electric spark when the Leyden jar is brought into requisition (fig. 217).

It was at one time contended that the sudden expansion of the air by the electric spark caused heat to be generated, and a thermometer was invented by Kinnersley to show this. The illustration (fig. 218) will explain it. When the electric spark passed between the balls in the large tube the water rose in the smaller. But the immediate return of the water to its level showed that the disturbance was only mechanical, and not owing to heat.

We may now pass from the “frictional” to the other kind—viz., “dynamical” electricity, and we shall begin with the consideration of GALVANI’S experiments and the VOLTAIC PILE.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] GANOT: Eléments de Physique.

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