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“A few years back, I was tuning an alert rule and accidentally triggered the alert, which created 772 tickets. Twice.” This (all too true) story serves as the introduction of the main thesis of my talk in the video below (and the reason for its title): That alerts — contrary to the popular opinion held by IT practitioners across the spectrum of — don’t inherently suck. The problem lies in how alerts are typically created, which causes them to be… well, let’s just say “sub-optimal” and leave it at that. tech https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K658JEZUGF4&embedable=true I’ve given this talk frequently at conferences such as , , , and others. I believe its popularity is largely due to its fun approach to a frustrating issue. DevOpsDays BRUM DevOpsDays TLV Monitorama I’d like to take a few moments of your time here to emphasize points I make in the talk but then extend those ideas in ways that don’t fit the limitations of time or format common in conference presentations. The slippery slope to “Monitoring Engineer” If you’ve read this far, there’s a good chance you care about alerts for more than just your own personal reasons. You probably have people — whether on your immediate team or in the larger organization — who look to and rely on you for help designing, implementing, maintaining, and fixing alerts. While most of us first encounter monitoring solutions because we want to know more about our own sh… tuff, it quickly follows that we’re helping others set up monitoring for themselves. Before long, we found ourselves in the “resident expert” role. Once that reputation gets around, the job (whether official or not) is irrevocably added to our responsibilities. The good news is that this is a huge opportunity for those who enjoy the work. Monitoring is an undeniable game-change in organizations willing to embrace and use it. Alerts ≠ Monitoring One of my first encounters with alerting that were completely off the rails was at a company that defined uptime as “100% minus the # of alerts” in a given period. It was utterly unhinged. While it was an extreme example, the underlying issue — confusing alerting with monitoring — isn’t rare at all. For many individuals (and teams, departments, and entire companies), the raison d’être for monitoring is to have alerts, which is simply not helpful or effective. Monitoring is nothing more (and nothing less) than the consistent, persistent collection of data from a set of systems. Everything else that a monitoring and observability solution provides — dashboards, widgets, reports, automation, and alerts — is merely a happy by-product of having monitoring in the first place. As a monitoring engineer, I know something is amiss when I see people hyper-focusing on alerts to the exclusion (if not the detriment) of monitoring. Alerts need proof of their value An alert should only exist if it has a proven, measurable, meaningful impact. The best way to validate that is to see if an alert is intended to cause someone to do something RIGHT. NOW. about a problem If all of those conditions aren’t met, you’re looking at an alert that is trying to replace some other monitoring structure — a dashboard, a report, etc. But that merely proves that an alert is actionable, not valuable. And I must be clear: “important” isn’t the same as “valuable.” Importance implies that it is technically, intellectually, or (believe it or not) emotionally meaningful to some person or group. “Valuable” is much more particular: The existence of the alert can be directly tied to a financial outcome. How does one establish this? Start with what the world would look like without the alert: How would the people who can fix the issue find out about the problem? And more to the point, how LONG would it take for the people who can resolve the issue to find out? Are there any inherent losses while the problem is happening? An online sales system that generates $1,000 an hour loses that amount every hour it’s unavailable. How long would it take to fix the problem? In some cases, it’s the same amount of time, alert or not. But in far more circumstances, if the problem were left unaddressed for the length of time identified in the first bullet, it would take longer (possibly significantly longer) to resolve. What is the regular (“total loaded”) rate for the staff who can fix the issue? What is the “interruption cost” for that staff? This means the staff is (ostensibly) not sitting around waiting for this particular error. So what is the value of their normal work? Because they will NOT be doing it while they are addressing this issue. You are welcome to take the formula above and, as the saying goes, “salt to taste.” Once you have this, recalculate all of the above WITH the alert. The difference between the first calculation and the second is the dollar value of the alert. Now, you can set up a simple report showing the number of occurrences the alert triggered multiplied by the value. That is the amount this one alert has saved the company during that time. Observability enables us to change our focus Back when I started working with monitoring solutions (yeah, yeah, Grampa. When dinosaurs ruled the earth and you had to chisel each bit into the hard drive by hand with a lodestone), we had to guess at the user’s experience from an array of much lower-level data. We’d look at network traffic, disk I/O, server connections, and other metrics and use those metrics to guess what was happening at the top of the OSI model. We didn’t do it because we thought it was the best option. We did it because it was the ONLY option. Tracing didn’t really come onto the scene — in terms of true application monitoring - until 2010. And it only took hold because of the fundamental change in application architecture. The widespread adoption of cloud computing (AWS EC2 went GA in 2006) and mobile phones (the first iPhone came on the scene in 2007) radically changed how we interacted with applications. Facebook had an unbelievable (for the time) 600 million users in 2010. That number grew to 800 million in 2011 and over 1 billion in 2012. Against THAT backdrop, application tracing and real user monitoring went from something we could only do in carefully controlled QA environments to a technique that was not only possible but game-changing. Because the entire reason we have monitoring — the whole damn point — is to understand what users are experiencing with an application. That’s it. That’s the whole enchilada. So, I will go on record as saying that alerting should focus on that aspect first and foremost. If the user experience is impacted, sound the alarm and get people out of bed if necessary. At that point, all the other telemetry - metrics, events, and logs - can be used to understand the details of the impact. But those lower-level data points no longer have to be the trigger point for alerts. Not in most cases. Where do we go from here? Hopefully, you have enough time between this blog and my talk to reflect on your existing alerts with an eye toward real improvement. You may find yourself deleting alerts you once thought essential. You will also undoubtedly spend time tweaking your alerts to make them more actionable, meaningful, and valuable. Just ensure you don’t trigger an alert storm in the process, or you’ll end up in the helpdesk, manually closing 1,544 tickets. Don’t ask me how I know. Also published . here

IT Monitoring Solutions: Your Alerts Shouldn't Be This Much of a Headache

The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter XV here Chapter XV The next day, the 17th of April, the sailor’s first words were addressed to Gideon Spilett. “Well, sir,” he asked, “what shall we do to-day?” “What the captain pleases,” replied the reporter. Till then the engineer’s companions had been brickmakers and potters, now they were to become metallurgists. The day before, after breakfast, they had explored as far as the point of Mandible Cape, seven miles distant from the Chimneys. There, the long series of downs ended, and the soil had a volcanic appearance. There were no longer high cliffs as at Prospect Heights, but a strange and capricious border which surrounded the narrow gulf between the two capes, formed of mineral matter, thrown up by the volcano. Arrived at this point the settlers retraced their steps, and at nightfall entered the Chimneys; but they did not sleep before the question of knowing whether they could think of leaving Lincoln Island or not was definitely settled. The twelve hundred miles which separated the island from the Pomoutous Island was a considerable distance. A boat could not cross it, especially at the approach of the bad season. Pencroft had expressly declared this. Now, to construct a simple boat even with the necessary tools, was a difficult work, and the colonists not having tools they must begin by making hammers, axes, adzes, saws, augers, planes, etc., which would take some time. It was decided, therefore, that they would winter at Lincoln Island, and that they would look for a more comfortable dwelling than the Chimneys, in which to pass the winter months. Before anything else could be done it was necessary to make the iron ore, of which the engineer had observed some traces in the northwest part of the island, fit for use by converting it either into iron or into steel. Metals are not generally found in the ground in a pure state. For the most part they are combined with oxygen or sulphur. Such was the case with the two specimens which Cyrus Harding had brought back, one of magnetic iron, not carbonated, the other a pyrite, also called sulphuret of iron. It was, therefore the first, the oxide of iron, which they must reduce with coal, that is to say, get rid of the oxygen, to obtain it in a pure state. This reduction is made by subjecting the ore with coal to a high temperature, either by the rapid and easy Catalan method, which has the advantage of transforming the ore into iron in a single operation, or by the blast furnace, which first smelts the ore, then changes it into iron, by carrying away the three to four per cent. of coal, which is combined with it. Now Cyrus Harding wanted iron, and he wished to obtain it as soon as possible. The ore which he had picked up was in itself very pure and rich. It was the oxydulous iron, which is found in confused masses of a deep gray color; it gives a black dust, crystallized in the form of the regular octahedron. Native lodestones consist of this ore, and iron of the first quality is made in Europe from that with which Sweden and Norway are so abundantly supplied. Not far from this vein was the vein of coal already made use of by the settlers. The ingredients for the manufacture being close together would greatly facilitate the treatment of the ore. This is the cause of the wealth of the mines in Great Britain, where the coal aids the manufacture of the metal extracted from the same soil at the same time as itself. “Then, captain,” said Pencroft, “we are going to work iron ore?” “Yes, my friend,” replied the engineer, “and for that—something which will please you—we must begin by having a seal hunt on the islet.” “A seal hunt!” cried the sailor, turning towards Gideon Spilett. “Are seals needed to make iron?” “Since Cyrus has said so!” replied the reporter. But the engineer had already left the Chimneys, and Pencroft prepared for the seal hunt, without having received any other explanation. Cyrus Harding, Herbert, Gideon Spilett, Neb, and the sailor were soon collected on the shore, at a place where the channel left a ford passable at low tide. The hunters could therefore traverse it without getting wet higher than the knee. Harding then put his foot on the islet for the first, and his companions for the second time. On their landing some hundreds of penguins looked fearlessly at them. The hunters, armed with sticks, could have killed them easily, but they were not guilty of such useless massacre, as it was important not to frighten the seals, who were lying on the sand several cable lengths off. They also respected certain innocent-looking birds, whose wings were reduced to the state of stumps, spread out like fins, ornamented with feathers of a scaly appearance. The settlers, therefore, prudently advanced towards the north point, walking over ground riddled with little holes, which formed nests for the sea-birds. Towards the extremity of the islet appeared great black heads floating just above the water, having exactly the appearance of rocks in motion. These were the seals which were to be captured. It was necessary, however, first to allow them to land, for with their close, short hair, and their fusiform conformation, being excellent swimmers, it is difficult to catch them in the sea, while on land their short, webbed feet prevent their having more than a slow, waddling movement. Pencroft knew the habits of these creatures, and he advised waiting till they were stretched on the sand, when the sun, before long, would send them to sleep. They must then manage to cut off their retreat and knock them on the head. The hunters, having concealed themselves behind the rocks, waited silently. An hour passed before the seals came to play on the sand. They could count half a dozen. Pencroft and Herbert then went round the point of the islet, so as to take them in the rear, and cut off their retreat. During this time Cyrus Harding, Spilett, and Neb, crawling behind the rocks, glided towards the future scene of combat. All at once the tall figure of the sailor appeared. Pencroft shouted. The engineer and his two companions threw themselves between the sea and the seals. Two of the animals soon lay dead on the sand, but the rest regained the sea in safety. “Here are the seals required, captain!” said the sailor, advancing towards the engineer. “Capital,” replied Harding. “We will make bellows of them!” “Bellows!” cried Pencroft. “Well! these are lucky seals!” It was, in fact, a blowing-machine, necessary for the treatment of the ore that the engineer wished to manufacture with the skins of the amphibious creatures. They were of a medium size, for their length did not exceed six feet. They resembled a dog about the head. As it was useless to burden themselves with the weight of both the animals, Neb and Pencroft resolved to skin them on the spot, while Cyrus Harding and the reporter continued to explore the islet. The sailor and the Negro cleverly performed the operation, and three hours afterwards Cyrus Harding had at his disposal two seals’ skins, which he intended to use in this state, without subjecting them to any tanning process. The settlers waited till the tide was again low, and crossing the channel they entered the Chimneys. The skins had then to be stretched on a frame of wood and sewn by means of fibers so as to preserve the air without allowing too much to escape. Cyrus Harding had nothing but the two steel blades from Top’s collar, and yet he was so clever, and his companions aided him with so much intelligence, that three days afterwards the little colony’s stock of tools was augmented by a blowing-machine, destined to inject the air into the midst of the ore when it should be subjected to heat—an indispensable condition to the success of the operation. On the morning of the 20th of April began the “metallic period,” as the reporter called it in his notes. The engineer had decided, as has been said, to operate near the veins both of coal and ore. Now, according to his observations, these veins were situated at the foot of the northeast spurs of Mount Franklin, that is to say, a distance of six miles from their home. It was impossible, therefore, to return every day to the Chimneys, and it was agreed that the little colony should camp under a hut of branches, so that the important operation could be followed night and day. This settled, they set out in the morning. Neb and Pencroft dragged the bellows on a hurdle; also a quantity of vegetables and animals, which they besides could renew on the way. The road led through Jacamar Wood, which they traversed obliquely from southeast to northwest, and in the thickest part. It was necessary to beat a path, which would in the future form the most direct road to Prospect Heights and Mount Franklin. The trees, belonging to the species already discovered, were magnificent. Herbert found some new ones, among others some which Pencroft called “sham leeks”; for, in spite of their size, they were of the same liliaceous family as the onion, chive, shallot, or asparagus. These trees produce ligneous roots which, when cooked, are excellent; from them, by fermentation, a very agreeable liquor is made. They therefore made a good store of the roots. The journey through the wood was long; it lasted the whole day, and so allowed plenty of time for examining the flora and fauna. Top, who took special charge of the fauna, ran through the grass and brushwood, putting up all sorts of game. Herbert and Gideon Spilett killed two kangaroos with bows and arrows, and also an animal which strongly resembled both a hedgehog and an ant-eater. It was like the first because it rolled itself into a ball, and bristled with spines, and the second because it had sharp claws, a long slender snout which terminated in a bird’s beak, and an extendible tongue, covered with little thorns which served to hold the insects. “And when it is in the pot,” asked Pencroft naturally, “what will it be like?” “An excellent piece of beef,” replied Herbert. “We will not ask more from it,” replied the sailor. During this excursion they saw several wild boars, which however, did not offer to attack the little band, and it appeared as if they would not meet with any dangerous beasts; when, in a thick part of the wood, the reporter thought he saw, some paces from him, among the lower branches of a tree, an animal which he took for a bear, and which he very tranquilly began to draw. Happily for Gideon Spilett, the animal in question did not belong to the redoubtable family of the plantigrades. It was only a koala, better known under the name of the sloth, being about the size of a large dog, and having stiff hair of a dirty color, the paws armed with strong claws, which enabled it to climb trees and feed on the leaves. Having identified the animal, which they did not disturb, Gideon Spilett erased “bear” from the title of his sketch, putting koala in its place, and the journey was resumed. At five o’clock in the evening, Cyrus Harding gave the signal to halt. They were now outside the forest, at the beginning of the powerful spurs which supported Mount Franklin towards the west. At a distance of some hundred feet flowed the Red Creek, and consequently plenty of fresh water was within their reach. The camp was soon organized. In less than an hour, on the edge of the forest, among the trees, a hut of branches interlaced with creepers, and pasted over with clay, offered a tolerable shelter. Their geological researches were put off till the next day. Supper was prepared, a good fire blazed before the hut, the roast turned, and at eight o’clock, while one of the settlers watched to keep up the fire, in case any wild beasts should prowl in the neighborhood, the others slept soundly. The next day, the 21st of April, Cyrus Harding accompanied by Herbert, went to look for the soil of ancient formation, on which he had already discovered a specimen of ore. They found the vein above ground, near the source of the creek, at the foot of one of the northeastern spurs. This ore, very rich in iron, enclosed in its fusible veinstone, was perfectly suited to the mode of reduction which the engineer intended to employ; that is, the Catalan method, but simplified, as it is used in Corsica. In fact, the Catalan method, properly so called, requires the construction of kilns and crucibles, in which the ore and the coal, placed in alternate layers, are transformed and reduced, But Cyrus Harding intended to economize these constructions, and wished simply to form, with the ore and the coal, a cubic mass, to the center of which he would direct the wind from his bellows. Doubtless, it was the proceeding employed by Tubalcain, and the first metallurgists of the inhabited world. Now that which had succeeded with the grandson of Adam, and which still yielded good results in countries rich in ore and fuel, could not but succeed with the settlers in Lincoln Island. The coal, as well as the ore, was collected without trouble on the surface of the ground. They first broke the ore into little pieces, and cleansed them with the hand from the impurities which soiled their surface. Then coal and ore were arranged in heaps and in successive layers, as the charcoal-burner does with the wood which he wishes to carbonize. In this way, under the influence of the air projected by the blowing-machine, the coal would be transformed into carbonic acid, then into oxide of carbon, its use being to reduce the oxide of iron, that is to say, to rid it of the oxygen. Thus the engineer proceeded. The bellows of sealskin, furnished at its extremity with a nozzle of clay, which had been previously fabricated in the pottery kiln, was established near the heap of ore. Using the mechanism which consisted of a frame, cords of fiber and counterpoise, he threw into the mass an abundance of air, which by raising the temperature also concurred with the chemical transformation to produce in time pure iron. The operation was difficult. All the patience, all the ingenuity of the settlers was needed; but at last it succeeded, and the result was a lump of iron, reduced to a spongy state, which it was necessary to shingle and fagot, that is to say, to forge so as to expel from it the liquefied veinstone. These amateur smiths had, of course, no hammer; but they were in no worse a situation than the first metallurgist, and therefore did what, no doubt, he had to do. A handle was fixed to the first lump, and was used as a hammer to forge the second on a granite anvil, and thus they obtained a coarse but useful metal. At length, after many trials and much fatigue, on the 25th of April several bars of iron were forged, and transformed into tools, crowbars, pincers, pickaxes, spades, etc., which Pencroft and Neb declared to be real jewels. But the metal was not yet in its most serviceable state, that is, of steel. Now steel is a combination of iron and coal, which is extracted, either from the liquid ore, by taking from it the excess of coal, or from the iron by adding to it the coal which was wanting. The first, obtained by the decarburation of the metal, gives natural or puddled steel; the second, produced by the carburation of the iron, gives steel of cementation. It was the last which Cyrus Harding intended to forge, as he possessed iron in a pure state. He succeeded by heating the metal with powdered coal in a crucible which had previously been manufactured from clay suitable for the purpose. He then worked this steel, which is malleable both when hot or cold, with the hammer. Neb and Pencroft, cleverly directed, made hatchets, which, heated red-hot, and plunged suddenly into cold water, acquired an excellent temper. Other instruments, of course roughly fashioned, were also manufactured; blades for planes, axes, hatchets, pieces of steel to be transformed into saws, chisels; then iron for spades, pickaxes, hammers, nails, etc. At last, on the 5th of May, the metallic period ended, the smiths returned to the Chimneys, and new work would soon authorize them to take a fresh title. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). The Mysterious Island. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1268/1268-h/1268-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The next day, the 17th of April, the sailor’s first words were addressed to Gideon Spilett

Saboteur of Space

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE ESCAPE OF THE DEAD THE ESCAPE OF THE DEAD A sense of delicious dreaminess overcame me, my muscles relaxed, and I was on the point of giving way to my desire to sleep when the sound of approaching horses reached my ears. I attempted to spring to my feet but was horrified to discover that my muscles refused to respond to my will. I was now thoroughly awake, but as unable to move a muscle as though turned to stone. It was then, for the first time, that I noticed a slight vapor filling the cave. It was extremely tenuous and only noticeable against the opening which led to daylight. There also came to my nostrils a faintly pungent odor, and I could only assume that I had been overcome by some poisonous gas, but why I should retain my mental faculties and yet be unable to move I could not fathom. I lay facing the opening of the cave and where I could see the short stretch of trail which lay between the cave and the turn of the cliff around which the trail led. The noise of the approaching horses had ceased, and I judged the Indians were creeping stealthily upon me along the little ledge which led to my living tomb. I remember that I hoped they would make short work of me as I did not particularly relish the thought of the innumerable things they might do to me if the spirit prompted them. I had not long to wait before a stealthy sound apprised me of their nearness, and then a war-bonneted, paint-streaked face was thrust cautiously around the shoulder of the cliff, and savage eyes looked into mine. That he could see me in the dim light of the cave I was sure for the early morning sun was falling full upon me through the opening. The fellow, instead of approaching, merely stood and stared; his eyes bulging and his jaw dropped. And then another savage face appeared, and a third and fourth and fifth, craning their necks over the shoulders of their fellows whom they could not pass upon the narrow ledge. Each face was the picture of awe and fear, but for what reason I did not know, nor did I learn until ten years later. That there were still other braves behind those who regarded me was apparent from the fact that the leaders passed back whispered word to those behind them. Suddenly a low but distinct moaning sound issued from the recesses of the cave behind me, and, as it reached the ears of the Indians, they turned and fled in terror, panic-stricken. So frantic were their efforts to escape from the unseen thing behind me that one of the braves was hurled headlong from the cliff to the rocks below. Their wild cries echoed in the canyon for a short time, and then all was still once more. The sound which had frightened them was not repeated, but it had been sufficient as it was to start me speculating on the possible horror which lurked in the shadows at my back. Fear is a relative term and so I can only measure my feelings at that time by what I had experienced in previous positions of danger and by those that I have passed through since; but I can say without shame that if the sensations I endured during the next few minutes were fear, then may God help the coward, for cowardice is of a surety its own punishment. To be held paralyzed, with one’s back toward some horrible and unknown danger from the very sound of which the ferocious Apache warriors turn in wild stampede, as a flock of sheep would madly flee from a pack of wolves, seems to me the last word in fearsome predicaments for a man who had ever been used to fighting for his life with all the energy of a powerful physique. Several times I thought I heard faint sounds behind me as of somebody moving cautiously, but eventually even these ceased, and I was left to the contemplation of my position without interruption. I could but vaguely conjecture the cause of my paralysis, and my only hope lay in that it might pass off as suddenly as it had fallen upon me. Late in the afternoon my horse, which had been standing with dragging rein before the cave, started slowly down the trail, evidently in search of food and water, and I was left alone with my mysterious unknown companion and the dead body of my friend, which lay just within my range of vision upon the ledge where I had placed it in the early morning. From then until possibly midnight all was silence, the silence of the dead; then, suddenly, the awful moan of the morning broke upon my startled ears, and there came again from the black shadows the sound of a moving thing, and a faint rustling as of dead leaves. The shock to my already overstrained nervous system was terrible in the extreme, and with a superhuman effort I strove to break my awful bonds. It was an effort of the mind, of the will, of the nerves; not muscular, for I could not move even so much as my little finger, but none the less mighty for all that. And then something gave, there was a momentary feeling of nausea, a sharp click as of the snapping of a steel wire, and I stood with my back against the wall of the cave facing my unknown foe. And then the moonlight flooded the cave, and there before me lay my own body as it had been lying all these hours, with the eyes staring toward the open ledge and the hands resting limply upon the ground. I looked first at my lifeless clay there upon the floor of the cave and then down at myself in utter bewilderment; for there I lay clothed, and yet here I stood but naked as at the minute of my birth. The transition had been so sudden and so unexpected that it left me for a moment forgetful of aught else than my strange metamorphosis. My first thought was, is this then death! Have I indeed passed over forever into that other life! But I could not well believe this, as I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs from the exertion of my efforts to release myself from the anaesthesis which had held me. My breath was coming in quick, short gasps, cold sweat stood out from every pore of my body, and the ancient experiment of pinching revealed the fact that I was anything other than a wraith. Again was I suddenly recalled to my immediate surroundings by a repetition of the weird moan from the depths of the cave. Naked and unarmed as I was, I had no desire to face the unseen thing which menaced me. My revolvers were strapped to my lifeless body which, for some unfathomable reason, I could not bring myself to touch. My carbine was in its boot, strapped to my saddle, and as my horse had wandered off I was left without means of defense. My only alternative seemed to lie in flight and my decision was crystallized by a recurrence of the rustling sound from the thing which now seemed, in the darkness of the cave and to my distorted imagination, to be creeping stealthily upon me. Unable longer to resist the temptation to escape this horrible place I leaped quickly through the opening into the starlight of a clear Arizona night. The crisp, fresh mountain air outside the cave acted as an immediate tonic and I felt new life and new courage coursing through me. Pausing upon the brink of the ledge I upbraided myself for what now seemed to me wholly unwarranted apprehension. I reasoned with myself that I had lain helpless for many hours within the cave, yet nothing had molested me, and my better judgment, when permitted the direction of clear and logical reasoning, convinced me that the noises I had heard must have resulted from purely natural and harmless causes; probably the conformation of the cave was such that a slight breeze had caused the sounds I heard. I decided to investigate, but first I lifted my head to fill my lungs with the pure, invigorating night air of the mountains. As I did so I saw stretching far below me the beautiful vista of rocky gorge, and level, cacti-studded flat, wrought by the moonlight into a miracle of soft splendor and wondrous enchantment. Few western wonders are more inspiring than the beauties of an Arizona moonlit landscape; the silvered mountains in the distance, the strange lights and shadows upon hog back and arroyo, and the grotesque details of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti form a picture at once enchanting and inspiring; as though one were catching for the first time a glimpse of some dead and forgotten world, so different is it from the aspect of any other spot upon our earth. As I stood thus meditating, I turned my gaze from the landscape to the heavens where the myriad stars formed a gorgeous and fitting canopy for the wonders of the earthly scene. My attention was quickly riveted by a large red star close to the distant horizon. As I gazed upon it I felt a spell of overpowering fascination—it was Mars, the god of war, and for me, the fighting man, it had always held the power of irresistible enchantment. As I gazed at it on that far-gone night it seemed to call across the unthinkable void, to lure me to it, to draw me as the lodestone attracts a particle of iron. My longing was beyond the power of opposition; I closed my eyes, stretched out my arms toward the god of my vocation and felt myself drawn with the suddenness of thought through the trackless immensity of space. There was an instant of extreme cold and utter darkness. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Edgar Rice Burroughs (1993). A Princess of Mars. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/62/pg62-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

THE ESCAPE OF THE DEAD

The Idea of a University Defined and Illustrated: Discourse IV

From Compass to Positioning Systems: Evolution of Location Tracking Location tracking has become such an ubiquitous term that it’s nearly impossible to imagine our lives without it. Outdoor navigation using GPS is an integral part of our daily lives. One study claims that GPS Tracking Device Market would be worth $2.89 bn by 2023. Almost every app you use on your smartphone utilizes GPS to fetch location specific info/feed. GPS finds its extensive use in finding routes, distance, mode of conveyance etc. As useful as it is for outdoor tracking, it fails to work in indoors. That necessitates the need of which guides you in searching objects in a confined space. indoor positioning systems Now, let’s go back in time and get to know how the location tracking technologies have reached its current status. History of Compass History of Compass The 1st hint of a compass trades back to China during 221–206 B.C. While using ladles made of in their fortune telling rituals, Chinese noticed its strange property to always point in the North-South direction. This mysterious property of Lodestone is attributed to its natural magnetism. Thus, lodestone’s direction predicting abilities saw the light of the day prompting China to get its share of credits as the developer of the first compass. lodestones The 1st compass was a square shaped slab with cardinal points and constellations marked all over it. The lodestone was shaped like a ladle whose handle would always point towards south. The ladle, later got replaced with magnetized needle. By 11th century, the use of compass as a navigating system gained huge popularity among sailors, voyagers etc. Notable Discoveries Antenna It may be mentioned here that, in 2nd Century, Ptolemy wrote ‘ ’ which laid the foundation of the standards for the use of latitude and longitude in maps. Geography Discovery of in the year 1819, when Hans Christian Oersted reported that a current carry wire has an effect on nearby magnetic needle. This laid grounds for wide-scale emergence of electronic communications, leading to the invention of telegraph and electric motor. Electromagnetism The year 1895 is marked by Marconi establishing . long distance radio transmission In the year 1957, Soviet Union launched the 1st artificial satellite . It was launched into a low Earth elliptical orbit. Sputnik 1 enabled scientists to gather a number of valuable information about the ionosphere and the density of the upper atmosphere. Sputnik1 Foundation of GPS Tracking GPS Tracking Sputnik’s location was calculated by using radio receivers by measuring the shifts in its radio signals due to ‘ ’. After approximately 6 months from the launch of Sputnik 1, Frank McLure ( ) came up with the question Doppler Effect the research director at Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory ‘Whether the reverse of this was possible? Can satellites be used to locate us instead?’ In the mid-1960s, The US Navy conducted experiments on satellite navigation in order to track their own submarines loaded with nuclear missiles. Six satellites were enough to pinpoint the exact locations of the submarines within a few minutes. In the year 1978, following the suit of the Navy scientists, the Department of Defense (DoD) too followed and launched . This system became fully functional in 1993. NAVSTAR (Navigation System with Timing & Ranging) Satellite So, GPS was basically launched by US Military for their own use. But, an event in 1983 changed the course of the future by making GPS public. When a Korean passenger jet deviated form its original route and mistakenly entered into a Soviet prohibited area, it was shot down by Soviet SU-15. This triggered president Ronald Regan to make GPS public, considering that GPS could’ve prevented such mishap. Thus, GPS became public with an accuracy restricted to a radius of 100 meters. This was done in order to ensure that the best data was accessible to only the U.S military. Fortunately, in the year 2000, President Bill Clinton made the standard GPS available to the public. And the rest, as they say, is history. Every location-aware app of your smartphone owes to that day. Rise of Indoor Positioning Indoor Positioning As we progress, we are no longer restricted to getting lost in outdoors, indoor wayfinding or object finding too has become a major challenge. Shopping Malls, Airports, Warehouses are such confined areas where we often find ourselves stuck at some point in time, for not being able to find our desired shop or counter etc. You must’ve even tried to use GPS. But that’s where GPS takes the back seat. Here come indoor positioning technologies to your rescue. Microwave is easily impacted by obstacles like walls, roofs etc., so, GPS is not suitable for indoor positioning. Thus, if you wish to have a continuously unfettered navigation system, an integration of indoor and GPS would work for the best. A recent report from the research firm MarketsandMarkets estimates the indoor location market — which includes indoor navigation as well as indoor data tracking (such as how long someone spends in a specific store in the mall) — will be worth $41 billion by 2022. Future of Indoor Positioning Future of Indoor Positioning is finding huge popularity across various industries like manufacturing transportation, logistics, healthcare, retail etc. In every sector, both navigational and tracking features are utilized. Indoor positioning A number of radio technologies are currently available which can help in creating a full-fledged indoor positioning system. Some of the most notable ones are — , , Wifi, RFiD, Zigbee. The choice of the technology is largely dependent on the use-case. Ultra-Wide band (UWB) Bluetooth Low Energy (BLE) In manufacturing units, asset tracking is very important, thus, keeping track on every asset would be the prime functionality of an IPS. On the other hand, in shopping malls, both navigation and tracking become important. The shops can track the customers’ movements and the customers can navigate to their desired store. The future for Indoor Positioning looks promising, especially with the evolution of high precision technologies like . Probably the day is not very far, when you would miss the process of finding your ways out or searching any stuff inside your own houses. Very soon we would probably find ourselves having more time then we could ever spend. Ultra-Wideband (UWB) Just like how we now talk about ‘the time we had to remember every route, ask for directions, sometimes roam around for hours before reaching the intended destinations?’, we would be talking about ‘the time we had to remember where we kept our stuffs, search for our forgotten stuffs for hours?’ The usage of the terms ‘lost/searching’ would become rare. But, just like every technology, there are two facets to it. There’s already a lot of on-going debate on Google maps knowing about your whereabouts better than you yourself can remember. Cameras in shopping malls, airports are already doing more than enough to make us feel watched. So, how would we take it if we are told that this ‘watching’ would get serious as our visibility would get beyond cameras. Probably the only place you can move freely is within your own homes. So, how would we react to our actions being tracked, probably to make our lives easier? Only time will tell…

From Compass to Positioning Systems: Evolution of Location Tracking

Scientific American, Volume XXIV., No. 12, March 18, 1871 by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE MINERAL RESOURCES OF MISSOURI. here THE MINERAL RESOURCES OF MISSOURI. The incalculable wealth, which lies hid in the bosom of Mother Earth, in our vast possessions of the West, is undoubtedly centered in the State of Missouri; and the development of this fund of riches must add to the national prosperity, not only by its immeasurable intrinsic value, but by its affording occupation to armies of laborers, the latter being the highest and most important consideration. In 1852-3, a geological survey of the State was wisely decided upon, and a liberal provision for its execution made. Two valuable reports, by Professor Swallow, have been printed, in the year 1855, but the notes of his subsequent investigations have not been made public. In the session of 1869-70, further action, in this important public work, was taken by the State legislature, and arrangements made for a still more accurate and detailed examination, under the direction of Professor A. D. Hager, of Vermont. The distribution of metals all over the State will be seen in the following figures, taken from the St. Louis , which show the number of counties in which the various ores are found: Iron in 46 counties, lead in 43, coal in 36, copper in 24, marble in 11, zinc in 27, fire clay in 16, barytes in 10, nickel in 6, granite in 4, tin in 4, plumbago in 2, gypsum in 2, alum in 1, antimony in 4. Journal of Commerce There is probably no country in the world so endowed as this. Of iron alone, according to the State geologist's report for 1855, there is ore of the best quality, sufficient to furnish 200,000,000 tuns of iron; and this quantity lies in a small space, in the vicinity of Pilot Knob and Iron Mountain, and within 100 miles of St. Louis. The quality of the iron is highly spoken of by the manufacturers, and the capacity of the smelting appliances has reached to over 150,000 tuns per annum. The coal is well suited for reduction of ores, either by hot or cold blast treatment. The Scotia Iron Co. commenced operations in January, 1870; and, although the materials for building blast furnaces had to be carried 80 miles into a desert, the first furnace was blown into blast in August, 1870. This furnace will run about 24 tuns per day. The company procures ore from a hill, near the furnace, in which there is an apparently inexhaustible supply of red oxide and brown specular. This ore yields 60 per cent of pure metal. The erection of mills for making wrought iron is contemplated, and the high quality and prodigious quantity of the raw material will justify and reward any outlay of capital in this direction. The shipment of ore to other States goes on constantly, the last year's account showing that 246,555 tuns were dispersed over Indiana, Ohio, and others. The furnaces at Kingsland, South St. Louis, Lewis Iron Co.'s Works, Carondelet, and Maramec are all well situated as to coal and limestone, the Maramec Works having a most valuable water-power. These latter works also ship about 40,000 tuns red hematite ore yearly. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2006). Scientific American, Volume XXIV., No. 12, March 18, 1871. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/19180/pg19180-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE MINERAL RESOURCES OF MISSOURI

Scientific American, Vol. XXXIX. No. 6. [New Series.], August 10, 1878, by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . NOTES AND QUERIES here NOTES AND QUERIES (1) H. P. says: Please inform me of some recipe for removing superfluous hair. A. Make a strong solution of sulphuret of barium into a paste with powdered starch. Apply immediately after being mixed and allow to remain for ten or fifteen minutes. See also p. 107 (8), vol. 38, and p. 25, current volume. (2) M. A. C. writes: I would like to know how to dissolve bleached shellac, to make it a cement for stone. A. Dissolve it by digestion in 3 or 4 parts of strong alcohol, or by the aid of ¼ its weight of borax in about 4 volumes of boiling water. (3) A. K. asks: 1. In rating substances as to hardness, diamond being No. 10, how do aluminum, osmium, iridium and steel as used in steel pens, number, also common and tempered glass? A. Aluminum about 3, iridosmine 6.5 to 7, steel 5.5 to 6, glass 5 to 5.5. 2. Can glass 1/32 inch in thickness be ground to angles of 15 per cent or less, and points as fine as pins, without difficulty, and how? A. No. (4) D. C. S., asks for a good recipe for cleaning and polishing dirty and tarnished brass. A. Dip for a short time in strong hot aqueous solution of caustic alkali, rinse in water, dip for a few moments in nitric acid diluted with an equal volume of water, rinse again, and finish with whiting. (5) C. J. H. asks for the simplest way of producing a coating of the magnetic or black oxide of iron on iron plates 3 feet x 6 feet. I think it is called the Barff process. A. See pp. 1041 Scientific American Supplement, and 232, vol. 36, and 4, vol. 37, of the Scientific American. How can I make tissue paper impervious to air and water, and yet strong enough to confine gas? A. You may pass the fabric through a solution of about 1 part caoutchouc in 35 parts of carbonic disulphide, exposing it then to the air until the solvent has evaporated. (6) J. H. J. asks how to use hyposulphite (?) of soda to neutralize chloride of lime in cotton and linen goods after bleaching the same. A. After washing from it the large excess of the hypochlorite, the fabric is passed slowly through a solution containing about 10 per cent of the hyposulphite, and then again thoroughly washed in clean water. (7) Columbus asks for a recipe for making ink to rule faint lines, such as he is now writing on. He wants it to rule unit columns in books. A. Dissolve in a small quantity of warm water 20 parts of Prussian blue by the aid of 3 parts of potassium ferrocyanide, and dilute the solution with thin gum water until the proper degree of color is obtained. (8) A. I. B. asks: Can I add anything to Arnold's writing fluid which will cause it to give a good free copy in my letter book? A. Try a little sugar. (9) R. & C. ask for information in regard to the process of printing copies of drawings made on transparent materials, by using chemically prepared paper and exposing to the sunlight. A. It is based on the fact that an acid in the presence of potassium dichromate strikes a blackish-green color when brought in contact with aniline. The paper is prepared by floating it on a bath of aqueous solution of potassium dichromate and a trace of phosphoric acid, and then drying it in the dark. Aniline is dissolved in a little alcohol, and the mixed vapors allowed to come into contact with the sensitive paper that has been exposed to strong sunlight beneath the drawing, when the portions not changed by the sunlight assume the dark color mentioned. All that is requisite is that the paper or cloth original should be fairly penetrable by the light. A piece of paper sensitized as indicated, a sheet of glass to place over the drawing, and a box in which to place the exposed print to the aniline vapor are the only necessary plant. (10) P. Y. P. writes: 1. To find the number of acres in a farm of valley and hillside land, is it by measuring the general contour of the land, allowing its actual surface, or by measuring and allowing only the imaginary face of the plane of it? A. The latter is the correct method. 2. Can more grain, say rye, be raised on a farm of valley and hillside land, as described above, than on a farm having a flat surface, the area of which is equal to the plane of the former, all other things supposed to be equal? A. No. (11) Inventor asks: 1. Can you tell me of a book on sound boards? A. We do not know of a book especially devoted to the subject. 2. Also the best kind of wood to make them out of? A. Spruce. (12) F. C. A. writes: I wish to construct a bar electro-magnet to go in a cylinder 1 inch in diameter and 1 inch long. 1. What size ought the core to be? What number of wire shall I use, and what number of Léclanché cells shall I use (not to exceed twelve) to obtain the greatest possible attractive power, distance 1/10 of an inch? A. Make the core 3/8 inch, wind it with No. 24 silk covered wire. Use 6 or 8 cells. 2. In the same space, could a horseshoe magnet be used, with a gain of power over the bar magnet? A. A cylindrical magnet, which is substantially the same as a horseshoe, might be substituted with advantage for the bar magnet. (13) W. C. H. writes: In turning a tapering shaft in an engine lathe, will the tool if raised above the centers of the lathe turn the taper true from end to end, , neither concave nor convex, the taper to be made by sliding the tail center the required distance? A. The taper will be concave. i. e. (14) H. E. H. asks how to make lime light. A. The lime light is made by directing the jet of an oxyhydrogen blowpipe against a cylinder of lime. The blowpipe is contrived to take the proper proportion of oxygen and hydrogen gas, and the lime is placed in the reducing focus of the jet. (15) L. F. asks: 1. How many Daniell's or Smee's cells would it require to produce the same effect as 50 Bunsen cells? A. About 100. 2. Is the diaphragm equally necessary in Bunsen's, Smee's and Daniell's cells, or can it be omitted in any one of them easier than in the others, and why so? A. The diaphragm or porous cell is required in Daniell's and Bunsen's batteries, but is not used in Smee's. The porous cell is used only in two fluid batteries; its object is to allow the current to pass, but to prevent the mixture of the two liquids. 3. Is the thickness of the zinc of any importance? A. Only that the thicker zinc lasts longer. 4. Which is the cheapest way to produce electric sparks and to charge a Leyden jar, and what will be the expense? A. By means of a frictional electrical machine. The machines cost from $10 upward. (16) R. C. K. writes: I am an engineer by trade; have been at it 9 years. Am out of a position at present and want to learn mechanical draughting. How long would it take me to become a good draughtsman by taking a special course at some university? And with my knowledge of engineering and draughting, would my services be likely to be in fair demand? A. If you are familiar with mechanical operations, you might become a good draughtsman by close application under a competent instructor for one or two years. At present there are many excellent draughtsmen looking for positions. (17) G. B. M. asks for the cause of the ribs or ridges on the surface of a piece of timber which has passed through a planing machine. A. They are frequently due to the intermittent motion of the feed. (18) A. F. writes: Having a small quantity of gold and gold plated things, I would like to know the simplest way to melt it. A. Put it in a small crucible with a little borax and melt in a common kitchen fire. (19) J. H. S., writes: I have three drawings each 21 x 30 inches, which I wish to mount upon cloth like a map, placing them end to end so as to make one whole sheet 90 inches long. The drawings are upon heavy Whatman paper. A. You should stretch wet canvas or factory cloth upon a frame, and while it is still damp apply paste to the backs of the drawings and lay them smoothly on the stretched cloth. When the paste becomes thoroughly dry cut the cloth from the stretching frame and paste a tape binding around the edges. (20) P. M. asks: What is the difference between the inner and outer rails of a 10° curve 100 yards in length, gauge 4 feet 8 inches? A. If this 100 yards is measured on the center of the curve, whose radius in feet is R, the length of the inner rail is R - 2-1/3 ———— x 100, R and of the outer rail R + 2-1/3 ———— x 100. R (21) W. B. K. asks how to make a shoe dressing for ladies' shoes. A. Soft water, 1 gallon; extract of logwood, 6 ozs.; dissolve at a temperature of about 120° Fah. Soft water, 1 gallon; borax, 6 ozs.; shellac, 1-1/2 oz.; boil until dissolved. Potassium dichromate, 3/8 oz.; hot water, 1/2 pint; dissolve, and add all together. It is preferred to add 3 ozs. of strong aqua ammonia to the liquid before bottling. (22) J. D. asks: What chemicals can be put into water to increase its efficiency in extinguishing fire? A. Carbonic acid; sodium carbonate. (23) H. P. writes: Please give me the advantages and disadvantages of substituting a galvanized iron tube 18 inches in diameter and 20 feet high for a wood tank, 5 feet wide and 6 deep, as a container of water in a dwelling house in the country. Would the narrower body of water keep fresh or sweet longer, etc.? Also the thickness of iron necessary to safety, and the number of gallons of water this tube would hold. A. The advantages are in favor of the wooden tank; zinc lined vessels (galvanized) are unsuitable for reservoirs for potable water. See p. 369, vol. 36, Scientific American. 0.3 inch iron would be stout enough. A pipe of the dimensions specified would contain about 327 gallons when full. (24) F. L. M. asks: 1. What is the process by which wire is given a copper finish? A. Clean the wire by pickling it for a short time in very dilute sulphuric acid and scouring with sand if necessary. Then pass the clean wire through a strong bath of copper sulphate dissolved in water. 2. Can wire be thus finished and also annealed? If so, how? A. The wire should be annealed first. 3. What other finish can be put on iron wire (annealed), and by what process? A. Zinc—by passing the clean wire through molten zinc covered with sal ammoniac; tin—by drawing the wire through a bath of molten tin covered with tallow. Minerals, Etc.—Specimens have been received from the following correspondents, and examined, with the results stated: J. H. McF.—A fine quality of kaolin.—F. C. H.—The floury powder consists chiefly, if not altogether, of calcium carbonate.—C. L. G.—They are all silicious limestones. We cannot judge fairly of their value for building purposes from the powders sent.—D. K.—Ferruginous earth or marl.—A. E.—It is a partially decomposed feldspar. The white powder is for the most part an impure, silicious, kaolin.—E. H.—It consists chiefly of basic carbonate and hydrated oxide of lead—poisonous.—J. B. V.—It is a fair quality of pipe clay—impure silicate of alumina—probably worth about $2 per ton in New York. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2013). Scientific American, Vol. XXXIX. No. 6. [New Series.], August 10, 1878. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/19406/pg19406-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

NOTES AND QUERIES

Scientific American Supplement, No. 711, August 17, 1889, by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . GIBRALTAR. here GIBRALTAR. The point or rock known as Gibraltar is a promontory two and one-half miles long and from a quarter to three-quarters of a mile wide. It rises abruptly from the sandy shore to a height at its highest point of 1,408 ft. It is composed of gray limestone, honeycombed with caves and subterranean passages, some of which contain most beautiful stalactites in the form of massive pillars. Gibraltar is emphatically a fortress, and in some respects its fortifications are unique. On the eastern side the rock needs no defense beyond its own precipitous cliffs, and in all other directions it has been rendered practically impregnable. Besides a sea wall extending at intervals round the western base of the rock, and strengthened by curtains and bastions and three formidable forts, there are batteries in all available positions from the sea wall up to the summit, 1,350 feet above the sea, and a remarkable series of galleries has been hewn out of the solid face of the rock toward the north and northwest. These galleries have an aggregate length of between two and three miles, and their breadth is sufficient to let a carriage pass. Portholes are cut at intervals of twelve yards, so contrived that the gunners are safe from the shot of any possible assailants. At the end of one of the galleries hollowed out in a prominent part of the cliff is St. George's Hall, 50 feet long by 85 feet wide, in which the governor was accustomed to give fetes. Alterations, extensions, and improvements are continually taking place in the defensive system, and new guns of the most formidable sort are gradually displacing or supplementing the old fashioned ordnance. The whole population of Gibraltar, whether civil or military, is subjected to certain stringent rules. For even a day's sojourn the alien must obtain a pass from the town major, and if he wish to remain longer, a consul or householder must become security for his good behavior. Licenses of residence are granted only for short periods—ten, fifteen, or twenty days—but they can be renewed if occasion require. Military officers may introduce a stranger for thirty days. A special permit is necessary if the visitor wishes to sketch. Though the town of Gibraltar may be said to date from the fourteenth century, it has preserved very little architectural evidence of its antiquity. Rebuilt on an enlarged and improved plan after its almost complete destruction during the great siege, it is still, on the whole, a mean-looking town, with narrow streets and lanes and an incongruous mixture of houses after the English and the Spanish types. As a proprietor may at any moment be called upon to give up his house and ground at the demand of the military authorities, he is naturally deterred from spending his money on substantial or sumptuous erections. The area of the town is about one hundred acres. Gibraltar was known to the Greek and Roman geographers as Calpe or Alybe, the two names being probably corruptions of the same local (perhaps Phenician) word. The eminence on the African coast near Ceuta, which bears the modern English name of Apes' Hill, was then designated Abyla; and Calpe and Abyla, at least according to an ancient and widely current interpretation, formed the renowned pillars of Hercules (Herculis columnæ), which for centuries were the limits of enterprise to the seafaring peoples of the Mediterranean world. The strategic importance of the rock appears to have been first discovered by the Moors, who, when they crossed over from Africa in the eighth century, selected it as the site of a fortress. From their leader, Tarik Ibn Zeyad, it was called Gebel Tarik or Tarik's Hill; and, though the name had a competitor in Gebel af Futah, or Hill of the Entrance, it gradually gained acceptance, and still remains sufficiently recognizable in the corrupted form of the present day. The first siege of the rock was in 1309, when it was taken by Alonzo Perez de Guzman for Ferdinand IV. of Spain, who, in order to attract inhabitants to the spot, offered an asylum to swindlers, thieves, and murderers, and promised to levy no taxes on the import or export of goods. The attack of Ismail Ben Ferez, in 1315 (second siege), was frustrated; but in 1333 Vasco Paez de Meira, having allowed the fortifications and garrison to decay, was obliged to capitulate to Mahomet IV. (third siege). Alphonso's attempts to recover possession (fourth siege) were futile, though pertinacious and heroic, and he was obliged to content himself with a tribute for the rock from Abdul Melek of Granada; but after his successful attack on Algeciras in 1344 he was encouraged to try his fortune again at Gibraltar. In 1349 he invested the rock, but the siege (fifth siege) was brought to an untimely close by his death from the plague in February, 1350. The next or sixth siege resulted simply in the transference of the coveted position from the hands of the King of Morocco to those of Yussef III. of Granada; and the seventh, undertaken by the Spanish Count of Niebla, Enrico de Guzman, proved fatal to the besieger and his forces. In 1462, however, success attended the efforts of Alphonso de Arcos (eighth siege), and in August the rock passed once more under Christian sway. The Duke of Medina Sidonia, a powerful grandee who had assisted in its capture, was anxious to get possession of the fortress, and though Henry IV. at first managed to maintain the claims of the crown, the duke ultimately made good his ambition by force of arms (ninth siege), and in 1469 the king was constrained to declare his son and his heirs perpetual governors of Gibraltar. In 1479 Ferdinand and Isabella made the second duke Marquis of Gibraltar, and in 1492 the third duke, Don Juan, was reluctantly allowed to retain the fortress. At length, in 1501, Garcilaso de la Vega was ordered to take possession of the place in the king's name, and it was formally incorporated with the domains of the crown. After Ferdinand and Isabella were both dead the duke, Don Juan, tried in 1506 to recover possession, and added a tenth to the list of sieges. Thirty-four years afterward the garrison had to defend itself against a much more formidable attack (eleventh siege)—the pirates of Algiers having determined to recover the rock for Mahomet and themselves. The conflict was severe, but resulted in the repulse of the besiegers. After this the Spaniards made great efforts to strengthen the place, and they succeeded so well that throughout Europe Gibraltar was regarded as impregnable. In the course of the war of the Spanish succession, however, it was taken by a combined English and Dutch fleet under Sir George Rooke, assisted by a body of troops under Prince George of Hesse-Darmstadt. The captors had ostensibly fought in the interests of Charles Archduke of Austria (afterward Charles III.), but, though his sovereignty over the rock was proclaimed on July 24, 1704, Sir George Rooke on his own responsibility caused the English flag to be hoisted, and took possession in name of Queen Anne. It is hardly to the honor of England that it was both unprincipled enough to sanction and ratify the occupation and ungrateful enough to leave unrewarded the general to whose unscrupulous patriotism the acquisition was due. The Spaniards keenly felt the injustice done to them, and the inhabitants of the town of Gibraltar in great numbers abandoned their homes rather than recognize the authority of the invaders. In October, 1704, the rock was invested by sea and land; but the Spanish ships were dispersed by Sir John Leake, and the Marquis of Villadarias fared so ill with his forces that he was replaced by Marshal Tesse, who was at length compelled to raise the siege in April, 1705. During the next twenty years there were endless negotiations for the peaceful surrender of the fortress, and in 1726 the Spaniards again appealed to arms. But the Conde de la Torres, who had the chief command, succeeded no better than his predecessors, and the defense of the garrison under General Clayton and the Earl of Portmore was so effectual that the armistice of June 23 practically put a close to the siege, though two years elapsed before the general pacification ensued. The most memorable siege of Gibraltar, indeed one of the most memorable of all sieges, was that which it sustained from the combined land and sea forces of France and Spain during the years 1779-1783. The grand attack on the place was made on the 13th September, 1782, and all the resources of power and science were exhausted by the assailants in the fruitless attempt. On the side of the sea they brought to bear against the fortress forty-six sail of the line and a countless fleet of gun and mortar boats. But their chief hope lay in the floating batteries planned by D'Arcon, an eminent French engineer, and built at the cost of half a million sterling. They were so constructed as to be impenetrable by the red hot shot which it was foreseen the garrison would employ; and such hopes were entertained of their efficiency that they were styled invincible. The Count D'Artois (afterward Charles X.) hastened from Paris to witness the capture of the place. He arrived in time to see the total destruction of the floating batteries and a considerable portion of the combined fleet by the English fire. Despite this disaster, however, the siege continued till brought to a close by the general pacification, February 2, 1783. The history of the four eventful years' siege is fully detailed in the work of Drinkwater, who himself took part in the defense, and in the life of its gallant defender Sir George Augustus Eliott, afterward Lord Heathfield, whose military skill and moral courage place him among the best soldiers and noblest men whom Europe produced during the 18th century. Since 1783 the history of Gibraltar has been comparatively uneventful. In the beginning of 1801 there were rumors of a Spanish and French attack, but the Spanish ships were defeated off Algeciras in June by Admiral Saumarez. Improvements in the fortifications, maintenance of military discipline, and legislation in regard to trade and smuggling are the principal matters of recent interest. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2004). Scientific American Supplement, No. 711, August 17, 1889. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/16972/pg16972-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The point or rock known as Gibraltar is a promontory two and one-half miles long

On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures by Charles Babbage is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . On Over Manufacturing here Chapter 24. On Over Manufacturing One of the natural and almost inevitable consequences of competition is the production of a supply much larger than the demand requires. This result usually arises periodically; and it is equally important, both to the masters and to the workmen, to prevent its occurrence, or to foresee its arrival. In situations where a great number of very small capitalists exist—where each master works himself and is assisted by his own family, or by a few journeymen—and where a variety of different articles is produced, a curious system of compensation has arisen which in some measure diminishes the extent to which fluctuations of wages would otherwise reach. This is accomplished by a species of middlemen or factors, persons possessing some capital, who, whenever the price of any of the articles in which they deal is greatly reduced, purchase it on their own account, in the hopes of selling at a profit when the market is better. These persons, in ordinary times, act as salesmen or agents, and make up assortments of goods at the market price, for the use of the home or foreign dealer. They possess large warehouses in which to make up their orders, or keep in store articles purchased during periods of depression; thus acting as a kind of flywheel in equalizing the market price. The effect of over-manufacturing upon great establishments is different. When an over supply has reduced prices, one of two events usually occurs: the first is a diminished payment for labour; the other is a diminution of the number of hours during which the labourers work, together with a diminished rate of wages. In the former case production continues to go on at its ordinary rate: in the latter, the production itself being checked, the supply again adjusts itself to the demand as soon as the stock on hand is worked off, and prices then regain their former level. The latter course appears, in the first instance, to be the best both for masters and men; but there seems to be a difficulty in accomplishing this, except where the trade is in few hands. In fact, it is almost necessary, for its success, that there should be a combination amongst the masters or amongst the men; or, what is always far preferable to either, a mutual agreement for their joint interests. Combination amongst the men is difficult, and is always attended with the evils which arise from the ill-will excited against any persons who, in the perfectly justifiable exercise of their judgement, are disposed not to act with the majority. The combination of the masters, on the other hand, is unavailing, unless the whole body of them agree, for if any one master can procure more labour for his money than the rest, he will be able to undersell them. If we look only at the interests of the consumer, the case is different. When too large a supply has produced a great reduction of price, it opens the consumption of the article to a new class, and increases the consumption of those who previously employed it: it is therefore against the interest of both these parties that a return to the former price should occur. It is also certain, that by the diminution of profit which the manufacturer suffers from the diminished price, his ingenuity will be additionally stimulated; that he will apply himself to discover other and cheaper sources for the supply of his raw material; that he will endeavour to contrive improved machinery which shall manufacture it at a cheaper rate; or try to introduce new arrangements into his factory, which shall render the economy of it more perfect. In the event of his success, by any of these courses or by their joint effects, a real and substantial good will be produced. A larger portion of the public will receive advantage from the use of the article, and they will procure it at a lower price; and the manufacturer, though his profit on each operation is reduced, will yet, by the more frequent returns on the larger produce of his factory, find his real gain at the end of the year, nearly the same as it was before; whilst the wages of the workman will return to their level, and both the manufacturer and the workman will find the demand less fluctuating, from its being dependent on a larger number of customers. It would be highly interesting, if we could trace, even approximately, through the history of any great manufacture, the effects of gluts in producing improvements in machinery, or in methods of working; and if we could shew what addition to the annual quantity of goods previously manufactured, was produced by each alteration. It would probably be found, that the increased quantity manufactured by the same capital, when worked with the new improvement, would produce nearly the same rate of profit as other modes of investment. Perhaps the manufacture of iron(1*) would furnish the best illustration of this subject; because, by having the actual price of pig and bar iron at the same place and at the same time, the effect of a change in the value of currency, as well as several other sources of irregularity, would be removed. At the present moment, whilst the manufacturers of iron are complaining of the ruinously low price of their produce, a new mode of smelting iron is coming into use, which, if it realizes the statement of the patentees, promises to reduce greatly the cost of production. The improvement consists in heating the air previously to employing it for blowing the furnace. One of the results is, that coal may be used instead of coke; and this, in its turn, diminishes the quantity of limestone which is required for the fusion of the iron stone. The following statement by the proprietors of the patent is extracted from Brewster's Journal, 1832, p. 349: Comparative view of the quantity of materials required at the Clyde iron works to smelt a ton of foundry pig-iron, and of the quantity of foundry pig-iron smelted from each furnace weekly Fuel in tons of 20 cwt each cwt 112 lbs; Iron-stone; Lime-stone
Cwt; Weekly produce in pig-iron Tons With air not heated and coke; 7;3 1/4; 15; 45 2. With air heated and coke; 4 3/4; 3 1/4; 10; 60 3. With air heated and coals not coked; 2 1/4; 3 1/4; 7 1/2; 65 Notes. 1. To the coals stated in the second and third lines, must be added 5 cwt of small coals, required to heat the air. The expense of the apparatus for applying the heated air will be from L200 to L300 per furnace. No coals are now coked at the Clyde iron works; at all the three furnaces the iron is smelted with coals. The three furnaces are blown by a double-powered steam-engine, with a steam cylinder 40 inches in diameter, and a blowing cylinder 80 inches in diameter, which compresses the air so as to carry 2 1/2 lbs per square inch. There are two tuyeres to each furnace. The muzzles of the blowpipes are 3 inches in diameter. The air heated to upwards of 600 degrees of Fahrenheit. It will melt lead at the distance of three inches from the orifice through which it issues from the pipe. The increased effect produced by thus heating the air is by no means an obvious result; and an analysis of its action will lead to some curious views respecting the future application of machinery for blowing furnaces. Every cubic foot of atmospheric air, driven into a furnace, consists of two gases.(2*) about one-fifth being oxygen, and four-fifths azote. According to the present state of chemical knowledge, the oxygen alone is effective in producing heat; and the operation of blowing a furnace may be thus analysed. The air is forced into the furnace in a condensed state, and, immediately expanding, abstracts heat from the surrounding bodies. Being itself of moderate temperature, it would, even without expansion, still require heat to raise it to the temperature of the hot substances to which it is to be applied. On coming into contact with the ignited substances in the furnace, the oxygen unites with them, parting at the same moment with a large portion of its latent heat, and forming compounds which have less specific heat than their separate constituents. Some of these pass up the chimney in a gaseous state, whilst others remain in the form of melted slags, floating on the surface of the iron, which is fused by the heat thus set at liberty. The effects of the azote are precisely similar to the first and second of those above described; it seems to form no combinations, and contributes nothing, in any stage, to augment the heat. The plan, therefore, of heating the air before driving it into the furnace saves, obviously, the whole of that heat which the fuel must have supplied in raising it from the temperature of the external air up to that of 600 degrees Fahrenheit; thus rendering the fire more intense, and the glassy slags more fusible, and perhaps also more effectually decomposing the iron ore. The same quantity of fuel, applied at once to the furnace, would only prolong the duration of its heat, not augment its intensity. The circumstance of so large a portion of the air(3*) driven into furnaces being not merely useless, but acting really as a cooling, instead of a heating, cause, added to so great a waste of mechanical power in condensing it, amounting, in fact, to four-fifths of the whole, clearly shews the defects of the present method, and the want of some better mode of exciting combustion on a large scale. The following suggestions are thrown out as likely to lead to valuable results, even though they should prove ineffectual for their professed object. The great difficulty appears to be to separate the oxygen, which aids combustion, from the azote which impedes it. If either of those gases becomes liquid at a lower pressure than the other, and if those pressures are within the limits of our present powers of compression, the object might be accomplished. Let us assume, for example, that oxygen becomes liquid under a pressure of 200 atmospheres, whilst azote requires a pressure of 250. Then if atmospheric air be condensed to the two hundredth part of its bulk, the oxygen will be found in a liquid state at the bottom of the vessel in which the condensation is effected, and the upper part of the vessel will contain only azote in the state of gas. The oxygen, now liquefied, may be drawn off for the supply of the furnace; but as it ought when used, to have a very moderate degree of condensation, its expansive force may be previously employed in working a small engine. The compressed azote also in the upper part of the vessel, though useless for combustion, may be employed as a source of power, and, by its expansion, work another engine. By these means the mechanical force exerted in the original compression would all be restored, except that small part retained for forcing the pure oxygen into the furnace, and the much larger part lost in the friction of the apparatus. The principal difficulty to be apprehended in these operations is that of packing a working piston so as to bear the pressure of 200 or 300 atmospheres: but this does not seem insurmountable. It is possible also that the chemical combination of the two gases which constitute common air may be effected by such pressures: if this should be the case, it might offer a new mode of manufacturing nitrous or nitric acids. The result of such experiments might take another direction: if the condensation were performed over liquids, it is possible that they might enter into new chemical combinations. Thus, if air were highly condensed in a vessel containing water, the latter might unite with an additional dose of oxygen, (4*) which might afterwards be easily disengaged for the use of the furnace. A further cause of the uncertainty of the results of such an experiment arises from the possibility that azote may really contribute to the fusion of the mixed mass in the furnace, though its mode of operating is at present unknown. An examination of the nature of the gases issuing from the chimneys of iron-foundries, might perhaps assist in clearing up this point; and, in fact, if such enquiries were also instituted upon the various products of all furnaces, we might expect the elucidation of many points in the economy of the metallurgic art. It is very possible also, that the action of oxygen in a liquid state might be exceedingly corrosive, and that the containing vessels must be lined with platinum or some other substance of very difficult oxydation; and most probably new and unexpected compounds would be formed at such pressures. In some experiments made by Count Rumford in 1797, on the force of fired gunpowder, he noticed a solid compound, which always appeared in the gunbarrel when the ignited powder had no means of escaping; and, in those cases, the gas which escaped on removing the restraining pressure was usually inconsiderable. If the liquefied gases are used, the form of the iron furnace must probably be changed, and perhaps it may be necessary to direct the flame from the ignited fuel upon the ore to be fused, instead of mixing that ore with the fuel itself: by a proper regulation of the blast, an oxygenating or a deoxygenating flame might be procured; and from the intensity of the flame, combined with its chemical agency, we might expect the most refractory ore to be smelted, and that ultimately the metals at present almost infusible, such as platinum, titanium, and others, might be brought into common use, and thus effect a revolution in the arts. Supposing, on the occurrence of a glut, that new and cheaper modes of producing are not discovered, and that the production continues to exceed the demand, then it is apparent that too much capital is employed in the trade; and after a time, the diminished rate of profit will drive some of the manufacturers to other occupations. What particular individuals will leave it must depend on a variety of circumstances. Superior industry and attention will enable some factories to make a profit rather beyond the rest; superior capital in others will enable them, without these advantages, to support competition longer, even at a loss, with the hope of driving the smaller capitalists out of the market, and then reimbursing themselves by an advanced price. It is, however, better for all parties, that this contest should not last long; and it is important, that no artificial restraint should interfere to prevent it. An instance of such restriction, and of its injurious effect, occurs at the port of Newcastle, where a particular Act of Parliament requires that every ship shall be loaded in its turn. The Committee of the House of Commons, in their Report on the Coal Trade, state that, 'Under the regulations contained in this Act, if more ships enter into the trade than can be profitablv employed in it, the loss produced by detention in port, and waiting for a cargo. which must consequently take place, instead of falling, as it naturally would, upon particular ships, and forcing them from the trade, is now divided evenly amongst them; and the loss thus created is shared by the whole number.' Report, p. 6. It is not pretended, in this short view, to trace out all the effects or remedies of over-manufacturing; the subject is difficult, and, unlike some of the questions already treated, requires a combined view of the relative influence of many concurring causes. NOTES: The average price per ton of pig iron, bar iron, and coal, together with the price paid for labour at the works, for a long series of years, would be very valuable, and I shall feel much indebted to anyone who will favour me with it for any, even short, period. The accurate proportions are, by measure, oxygen 21, azote 79. A similar reasoning may be applied to lamps. An Argand burner, whether used for consuming oil or gas, admits almost an unlimited quantity of air. It would deserve enquiry, whether a smaller quantity might not produce greater light; and, possibly, a different supply furnish more heat with the same expenditure of fuel. Deutoxide of hydrogen, the oxygenated water of Thenard. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Charles Babbage (2003). On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/4238/pg4238.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

On Over Manufacturing

On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures by Charles Babbage is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . On the Position of Large Factories here Chapter 230. On the Position of Large Factories 277. It is found in every country, that the situation of large manufacturing establishments is confined to particular districts. In the earlier history of a manufacturing community, before cheap modes of transport have been extensively introduced, it will almost always be found that manufactories are placed near those spots in which nature has produced the raw material: especially in the case of articles of great weight, and in those the value of which depends more upon the material than upon the labour expended on it. Most of the metallic ores being exceedingly heavy, and being mixed up with large quantities of weighty and useless materials, must be smelted at no great distance from the spot which affords them: fuel and power are the requisites for reducing them; and any considerable fall of water in the vicinity will naturally be resorted to for aid in the coarser exertions of physical force; for pounding the ore, for blowing the furnaces, or for hammering and rolling out the iron. There are indeed peculiar circumstances which will modify this. Iron, coal, and limestone, commonly occur in the same tracts; but the union of the fuel in the same locality with the ore does not exist with respect to other metals. The tracts generally the most productive of metallic ores are, geologically speaking, different from those affording coal: thus in Cornwall there are veins of copper and of tin, but no beds of coal. The copper ore, which requires a very large quantity of fuel for its reduction, is sent by sea to the coalfields of Wales, and is smelted at Swansea; whilst the vessels which convey it, take back coals to work the steam-engines for draining the mines, and to smelt the tin, which requires for that purpose a much smaller quantity of fuel than copper. 278. Rivers passing through districts rich in coal and metals, will form the first highroads for the conveyance of weighty produce to stations in which other conveniences present themselves for the further application of human skill. Canals will succeed, or lend their aid to these; and the yet unexhausted applications of steam and of gas, hold out a hope of attaining almost the same advantages for countries to which nature seemed for ever to have denied them. Manufactures, commerce, and civilization, always follow the line of new and cheap communications. Twenty years ago, the Mississippi poured the vast volume of its waters in lavish profusion through thousands of miles of countries, which scarcely supported a few wandering and uncivilized tribes of Indians. The power of the stream seemed to set at defiance the efforts of man to ascend its course; and, as if to render the task still more hopeless, large trees, torn from the surrounding forests, were planted like stakes in its bottom, forming in some places barriers, in others the nucleus of banks; and accumulating in the same spot, which but for accident would have been free from both, the difficulties and dangers of shoals and of rocks. Four months of incessant toil could scarcely convey a small bark with its worn-out crew two thousand miles up this stream. The same voyage is now performed in fifteen days by large vessels impelled by steam, carrying hundreds of passengers enjoying all the comforts and luxuries of civilized life. Instead of the hut of the Indian, and the far more unfrequent log house of the thinly scattered settlers—villages, towns, and cities, have arisen on its banks; and the same engine which stems the force of these powerful waters, will probably tear from their bottom the obstructions which have hitherto impeded and rendered dangerous their navigation.(1*) 279. The accumulation of many large manufacturing establishments in the same district has a tendency to bring together purchasers or their agents from great distances, and thus to cause the institution of a public mart or exchange. This contributes to diffuse information relative to the supply of raw materials, and the state of demand for their produce, with which it is necessary manufacturers should be well acquainted. The very circumstance of collecting periodically, at one place, a large number both of those who supply the market and of those who require its produce, tends strongly to check the accidental fluctuations to which a small market is always subject, as well as to render the average of the prices much more uniform. 280. When capital has been invested in machinery, and in buildings for its accommodation, and when the inhabitants of the neighbourhood have acquired a knowledge of the modes of working at the machines, reasons of considerable weight are required to cause their removal. Such changes of position do however occur; and they have been alluded to by the Committee on the Fluctuation of Manufacturers' Employment, as one of the causes interfering most materially with an uniform rate of wages: it is therefore of particular importance to the workmen to be acquainted with the real causes which have driven manufactures from their ancient seats. "The migration or change of place of any manufacture has sometimes arisen from improvements of machinery not applicable to the spot where such manufacture was carried on, as appears to have been the case with the woollen manufacture, which has in great measure migrated from Essex, Suffolk, and other southern counties, to the northern districts, where coal for the use of the steam-engine is much cheaper. But this change has, in some instances, been caused or accelerated by the conduct of the workmen, in refusing a reasonable reduction of wages, or opposing the introduction of some kind of improved machinery or process; so that, during the dispute, another spot has in great measure supplied their place in the market. Any violence used by the workmen against the property of their masters, and any unreasonable combination on their part, is almost sure thus to be injurious to themselves." 281. These removals become of serious consequence when the factories have been long established, because a population commensurate with their wants invariably grows up around them. The combinations in Nottinghamshire, of persons under the name of Luddites, drove a great number of lace frames from that district, and caused establishments to be formed in Devonshire. We ought also to observe, that the effect of driving any establishment into a new district, where similar works have not previously existed, is not merely to place it out of the reach of such combinations; but, after a few years, the example of its success will most probably induce other capitalists in the new district to engage in the same manufacture: and thus, although one establishment only should be driven away, the workmen, through whose combination its removal is effected, will not merely suffer by the loss of that portion of demand for their labour which the factory caused; but the value of that labour will itself be reduced by the competition of a new field of production. 282. Another circumstance which has its influence on this question, is the nature of the machinery. Heavy machinery, such as stamping-mills, steam-engines, etc., cannot readily be moved, and must always be taken to pieces for that purpose; but when the machinery of a factory consists of a multitude of separate engines, each complete in itself, and all put in motion by one source of power, such as that of steam, then the removal is much less inconvenient. Thus, stocking frames, lace machines, and looms, can be transported to more favourable positions, with but a small separation of their parts. 283. It is of great importance that the more intelligent amongst the class of workmen should examine into the correctness of these views; because, without having their attention directed to them, the whole class may, in some instances, be led by designing persons to pursue a course, which, although plausible in appearance, is in reality at variance with their own best interests. I confess I am not without a hope that this volume may fall into the hands of workmen, perhaps better qualified than myself to reason upon a subject which requires only plain common sense, and whose powers are sharpened by its importance to their personal happiness. In asking their attention to the preceding remarks, and to those which I shall offer respecting combinations, I can claim only one advantage over them; namely, that I never have had, and in all human probability never shall have, the slightest pecuniary interest, to influence even remotely, or by anticipation, the judgements I have formed on the facts which have come before me. NOTES: 1. The amount of obstructions arising from the casual fixing of trees in the bottom of the river, may be estimated from the proportion of steamboats destroyed by running upon them. The subjoined statement is taken from the American Almanack for 1832. Between the years 1811 and 1831, three hundred and forty-eight steamboats were built on the Mississippi and its tributary streams. During that period a hundred and fifty were lost or worn out. Of this hundred and fifty: worn out 63 lost by snags 36 burnt 14 lost by collision 3 by accidents not ascertained 34 Thirty six or nearly one fourth, being destroyed by accidental obstruction. Snag is the name given in America to trees which stand nearly upright in the stream with their roots fixed at the bottom. It is usual to divide off at the bow of the steamboats a watertight chamber, in order that when a hole is made in it by running against the snags, the water may not enterthe rest of the vessel and sink it intantly. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Charles Babbage (2003). On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/4238/pg4238.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

On the Position of Large Factories

Scientific American Supplement, No. 717, September 28, 1889, by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE FUELS OF THE FUTURE. here THE FUELS OF THE FUTURE. It is undeniable that in this country, at least, we are accustomed to regard coal as the chief, and, indeed, the only substance which falls to be considered under the name of fuel. In other countries, however, the case is different. Various materials, ranging from wood to oil, come within the category of material for the production of heat. The question of fuel, it may be remarked, has a social, an antiquarian, and a chemical interest. In the first place, the inquiry whether or not our supplies of coal will hold out for say the next hundred thousand years, or for a much more limited period only, has been very often discussed by sociologists and by geological authorities. Again, it is clear that as man advances in the practice of civilized arts, his dependence upon fuel becomes of more and more intimate character. He not merely demands fire wherewith to cook his food, and to raise his own temperature or that of his dwelling, but requires fuel for the thousand and one manufacturing operations in which he is perpetually engaged. It is obvious that without fuel civilized life would practically come to an end. We cannot take the shortest journey by rail or steamboat without a tacit dependence upon a fuel supply; and the failure of this supply would therefore mean and imply the extinction of all the comforts and conveniences on which we are accustomed to rely as aids to easy living in these latter days. Again, socially regarded, man is the only animal that practices the fire-making habit. Even the highest apes, who will sit round the fire which a traveler has just left, and enjoy the heat, do not appear to have developed any sense or idea of keeping up the fire by casting fresh fuel upon it. It seems fairly certain, then, that we may define man as being a "fuel-employing animal," and in so doing be within the bounds of certitude. He may be, and often is, approached by other animals in respect of many of his arts and practices. Birds weave nest materials, ants make—and maul—slaves, beavers build dams, and other animals show the germs and beginnings of human contrivances for aiding the processes of life, but as yet no animal save man lights and maintains a fire. That the fire-making habit must have dawned very early in human history appears to be proved by the finding of ashes and other evidences of the presence of fire among the remains and traces of primitive man. All we know, also, concerning the history of savage tribes teaches us that humanity is skillful, even in very rude stages of its progress, in the making of fire. The contrivances for obtaining fire are many and curious in savage life, while, once attained, this art seems to have not only formed a constant accompaniment but probably also a determining cause in the evolution of civilization. Wood, the fat of animals, and even the oils expressed from plants, probably all became known to man as convenient sources of fuel in prehistoric times. From the incineration of wood to the use of peat and coal would prove an easy stage in the advance toward present day practices, and with the attainment of coal as a fuel the first great era in man's fire-making habits may be said to end. Beyond the coal stage, however, lies the more or less distinctively modern one of the utilization of gas and oil for fuel. The existence of great natural centers, or underground stores, of gas and oil is probably no new fact. We read in the histories of classic chroniclers of the blazing gases which were wont to issue from the earth, and to inspire feelings of superstitious awe in the minds of beholders. Only within a few years, however, have geologists been able to tell us much or anything regarding these reservoirs of natural fuel which have become famous in America and in the Russian province of Baku. For example, it is now known that three products—gas, oil, and salt or brine—lie within natural receptacles formed by the rock strata in the order of their weight. This law, as has well been said, forms the foundation of all successful boring experiments, and the search for natural fuel, therefore, becomes as easy and as reliable a duty as that for artesian water or for coal. The great oil fever of the West was attended at first, as Professor M'Gee tells us, with much waste of the product. Wells were sunk everywhere, and the oil overflowed the land, tainting the rivers, poisoning the air, and often driving out the prospectors from the field of discovery. In Baku accidents and catastrophes have, similarly, been of frequent occurrence. We read of petroleum flowing from the ground in jets 200 feet high, and as thick as a man's body; we learn how it swept away the huge cranes and other machinery, and how, as it flowed away from the orifices, its course was marked by the formation of rivers of oil many miles in length. In America the pressure of rock gas has burst open stills weighing over a ton, and has rushed through huge iron tanks and split open the pipes wherewith it was sought to control its progress. The roar of this great stream of natural gas was heard for miles around as it escaped from the outlet, and when it was ignited the pillar of flame illumined the surrounding country over a radius extending in some cases to forty miles. It is clear that man having tapped the earth's stores of natural fuel, stood in danger of having unloosed a monster whose power he seemed unable to control. Yet, as the sequel will show, science has been able to tackle with success the problems of mastering the force and of utilizing the energy which are thus locked up within the crust of the globe. As regards the chemistry of rock gas, we may remark in the first place that this natural product ranks usually as light carbureted hydrogen gas. In this respect it is not unlike the marsh gas with which everyone is familiar, which is found bubbling up from swamps and morasses, and which constitutes the "will o' the wisp" of romance. In rock gas, marsh gas itself is actually found in the proportion of about 93 per cent. The composition of marsh gas is very simple. It consists of the two elements carbon and hydrogen united in certain proportions, indicated chemically by the symbol CH4. We find, in fact, that rock gas possesses a close relationship, chemically speaking, with many familiar carbon compounds, and of these latter, petroleum itself, asphaltum, coal, jet, graphite or plumbago, and even the diamond itself—which is only crystallized carbon after all—are excellent examples. The differences between these substances really consist in the degree of fixing of the carbon or solid portion of the product, as it were, which exists. Thus in coal and jet the carbon is of stable character, such as we might expect to result from the slow decomposition of vegetable matter, and the products of this action are not volatile or liable to be suddenly dissociated or broken up. On the other hand, when we deal with the as they are called, in the shape of rock gas, naphtha, petroleum, tar, asphaltum, and similar substances, we see how the carbon has become subordinated to the hydrogen part of the compounds, with the result of rendering them more or less unstable in their character. As Professor M'Gee has shown us, there is in truth a graduated series leading us from the marsh gas and rock gas as the lightest members of this class of compounds onward through the semi-gaseous naphtha to the fluid petroleum, the semi-fluid tar, the solid asphaltum, and the rigid and brittle substance known as albertite, with other and allied products. Having said so much regarding the chemistry of the fuels of the future, we may now pass to consider their geological record. A somewhat curious distribution awaits the man of science in this latter respect. Most readers are aware that the geologists are accustomed to classify rocks, according to their relative age, into three great groups, known respectively as the primary, secondary, and tertiary periods. In the secondary period we do not appear to meet with the fuels of the future, but as far back as the Devonian or old Red Sandstone period, and in the still older Silurian rocks, stores of gas and petroleum abound. In the latest or tertiary period, again, we come upon nearly all the forms of fuels we have already specified. hydrocarbons The meaning of this geological distribution of the fuels is entirely fortuitous. Dr. M'Gee tells us that as their formation depended on local conditions (such as plant growth), and as we have no means of judging why such local conditions occurred within any given area, so must we regard the existence of fuel products in particular regions as beyond explanation. Of one point, however, we are well assured, namely that the volume of the fuels of the future is developed in an inverse proportion to their geological age. The proportionate volume, as it has been expressed, diminishes progressively as the geological scale is descended. Again, the weight of the fuels varies directly with their age; for it is in the older formation of any series that we come upon the oils and tars and asphaltum, while the marsh gas exists in later and more recently formed deposits. Further geological research shows us that the American gas fields exist each as an inverted trough or dome, a conformation due, of course, to the bending and twisting of the rocks by the great underground heat forces of the world. The porous part of the dome may be sandstone or limestone, and above this portion lie shales, which are the opposite of porous in texture. The dome, further, contains gas above, naphtha in the middle, and petroleum below, while last of all comes water, which is usually very salt. In the Indiana field, however, we are told that the oils lie near the springing or foundation of the arch of the dome, and at its crown gas exists, and overlies brine. A very important inquiry, in relation to the statement that upon the products whose composition and history have just been described the fuel supply of the future will depend, consists in the question of the extent and duration of these natural gas and oil reservoirs. If we are beginning to look forward to a time when our coal supply will have been worked out, it behooves us to ask whether or not the supply of natural gas and oil is practically illimitable. The geologist will be able to give the coming man some degree of comfort on this point, by informing him that there seems to be no limit to the formation of the fuel of the future. Natural gas is being manufactured to-day by nature on a big scale. Wherever plant material has been entombed in the rock formations, and wherever its decomposition proceeds, as proceed it must, there natural gas is being made. So that with the prospect of coal becoming as rare as the dodo itself, the world, we are told by scientists, may still regard with complacency the failure of our ordinary carbon supply. The natural gases and oils of the world will provide the human race with combustible material for untold ages—such at least is the opinion of those who are best informed on the subject. For one thing, we are reminded that gas is found to be the most convenient and most economical of fuels. Rock gas is being utilized abroad even now in manufacturing processes. Dr. M'Gee says that even if the natural supply of rock gas were exhausted to-morrow, manufacturers of glass, certain grades of iron, and other products would substitute an artificial gas for the natural product rather than return to coal. He adds that "enormous waste would thereby be prevented, the gas by which the air of whole counties in coke-burning regions is contaminated would be utilized, and the carbon of the dense smoke clouds by which manufacturing cities are overshadowed would be turned to good account." So that, as regards the latter point, even Mr. Ruskin with his horror of the black smoke of to-day and of the disfigurement of sky and air might become a warm ally of the fuel of the future. The chemist in his laudation of rock gas and allied products is only re-echoing, when all is said and done, the modern eulogy pronounced on ordinary coal gas as a cooking and heating medium. We are within the mark when we say that the past five years alone have witnessed a wonderful extension in the use of gas in the kitchen and elsewhere. It would be singular, indeed, if we should happen to be already anticipating the fuel of the future by such a practice. Whether or not this is the case, it is at least satisfactory for mankind to know that the mother earth will not fail him when he comes to demand a substitute for coal. I may be too early even to think of the day of extinction; but we may regard that evil day with complacency in face of the stores of fuel husbanded for us within the rock foundations of our planet.— Glasgow Herald. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2006). Scientific American Supplement, No. 717, September 28, 1889. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/17755/pg17755-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE FUELS OF THE FUTURE

Sources of the Advantages arising from Machinery and Manufactures

INTERNAL COMBUSTION ENGINES

Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE RESIDUUM OF A CONTINENT here CHAPTER XVI. THE RESIDUUM OF A CONTINENT Almost unconsciously, the voyagers in the fell into the habit of using Gallia as the name of the new world in which they became aware they must be making an extraordinary excursion through the realms of space. Nothing, however, was allowed to divert them from their ostensible object of making a survey of the coast of the Mediterranean, and accordingly they persevered in following that singular boundary which had revealed itself to their extreme astonishment. Dobryna Having rounded the great promontory that had barred her farther progress to the north, the schooner skirted its upper edge. A few more leagues and they ought to be abreast of the shores of France. Yes, of France. But who shall describe the feelings of Hector Servadac when, instead of the charming outline of his native land, he beheld nothing but a solid boundary of savage rock? Who shall paint the look of consternation with which he gazed upon the stony rampart—rising perpendicularly for a thousand feet—that had replaced the shores of the smiling south? Who shall reveal the burning anxiety with which he throbbed to see beyond that cruel wall? But there seemed no hope. Onwards and onwards the yacht made her way, and still no sign of France. It might have been supposed that Servadac’s previous experiences would have prepared him for the discovery that the catastrophe which had overwhelmed other sites had brought destruction to his own country as well. But he had failed to realize how it might extend to France; and when now he was obliged with his own eyes to witness the waves of ocean rolling over what once had been the lovely shores of Provence, he was well-nigh frantic with desperation. “Am I to believe that Gourbi Island, that little shred of Algeria, constitutes all that is left of our glorious France? No, no; it cannot be. Not yet have we reached the pole of our new world. There is—there must be—something more behind that frowning rock. Oh, that for a moment we could scale its towering height and look beyond! By Heaven, I adjure you, let us disembark, and mount the summit and explore! France lies beyond.” Disembarkation, however, was an utter impossibility. There was no semblance of a creek in which the could find an anchorage. There was no outlying ridge on which a footing could be gained. The precipice was perpendicular as a wall, its topmost height crowned with the same conglomerate of crystallized lamellae that had all along been so pronounced a feature. Dobryna With her steam at high pressure, the yacht made rapid progress towards the east. The weather remained perfectly fine, the temperature became gradually cooler, so that there was little prospect of vapors accumulating in the atmosphere; and nothing more than a few cirri, almost transparent, veiled here and there the clear azure of the sky. Throughout the day the pale rays of the sun, apparently lessened in its magnitude, cast only faint and somewhat uncertain shadows; but at night the stars shone with surpassing brilliancy. Of the planets, some, it was observed, seemed to be fading away in remote distance. This was the case with Mars, Venus, and that unknown orb which was moving in the orbit of the minor planets; but Jupiter, on the other hand, had assumed splendid proportions; Saturn was superb in its luster, and Uranus, which hitherto had been imperceptible without a telescope was pointed out by Lieutenant Procope, plainly visible to the naked eye. The inference was irresistible that Gallia was receding from the sun, and traveling far away across the planetary regions. On the 24th of February, after following the sinuous course of what before the date of the convulsion had been the coast line of the department of Var, and after a fruitless search for Hyeres, the peninsula of St. Tropez, the Lerius Islands, and the gulfs of Cannes and Jouar, the arrived upon the site of the Cape of Antibes. Dobryna Here, quite unexpectedly, the explorers made the discovery that the massive wall of cliff had been rent from the top to the bottom by a narrow rift, like the dry bed of a mountain torrent, and at the base of the opening, level with the sea, was a little strand upon which there was just space enough for their boat to be hauled up. “Joy! joy!” shouted Servadac, half beside himself with ecstasy; “we can land at last!” Count Timascheff and the lieutenant were scarcely less impatient than the captain, and little needed his urgent and repeated solicitations: “Come on! Quick! Come on! no time to lose!” It was half-past seven in the morning, when they set their foot upon this untried land. The bit of strand was only a few square yards in area, quite a narrow strip. Upon it might have been recognized some fragments of that agglutination of yellow limestone which is characteristic of the coast of Provence. But the whole party was far too eager to wait and examine these remnants of the ancient shore; they hurried on to scale the heights. The narrow ravine was not only perfectly dry, but manifestly had never been the bed of any mountain torrent. The rocks that rested at the bottom—just as those which formed its sides—were of the same lamellous formation as the entire coast, and had not hitherto been subject to the disaggregation which the lapse of time never fails to work. A skilled geologist would probably have been able to assign them their proper scientific classification, but neither Servadac, Timascheff, nor the lieutenant could pretend to any acquaintance with their specific character. Although, however, the bottom of the chasm had never as yet been the channel of a stream, indications were not wanting that at some future time it would be the natural outlet of accumulated waters; for already, in many places, thin layers of snow were glittering upon the surface of the fractured rocks, and the higher the elevation that was gained, the more these layers were found to increase in area and in depth. “Here is a trace of fresh water, the first that Gallia has exhibited,” said the count to his companions, as they toiled up the precipitous path. “And probably,” replied the lieutenant, “as we ascend we shall find not only snow but ice. We must suppose this Gallia of ours to be a sphere, and if it is so, we must now be very close to her Arctic regions; it is true that her axis is not so much inclined as to prolong day and night as at the poles of the earth, but the rays of the sun must reach us here only very obliquely, and the cold, in all likelihood, will be intense.” “So cold, do you think,” asked Servadac, “that animal life must be extinct?” “I do not say that, captain,” answered the lieutenant; “for, however far our little world may be removed from the sun, I do not see why its temperature should fall below what prevails in those outlying regions beyond our system where sky and air are not.” “And what temperature may that be?” inquired the captain with a shudder. “Fourier estimates that even in those vast unfathomable tracts, the temperature never descends lower than 60 degrees,” said Procope. “Sixty! Sixty degrees below zero!” cried the count. “Why, there’s not a Russian could endure it!” “I beg your pardon, count. It is placed on record that the English survived it, or something quite approximate, upon their Arctic expeditions. When Captain Parry was on Melville Island, he knew the thermometer to fall to 56 degrees,” said Procope. have As the explorers advanced, they seemed glad to pause from time to time, that they might recover their breath; for the air, becoming more and more rarefied, made respiration somewhat difficult and the ascent fatiguing. Before they had reached an altitude of 600 feet they noticed a sensible diminution of the temperature; but neither cold nor fatigue deterred them, and they were resolved to persevere. Fortunately, the deep striae or furrows in the surface of the rocks that made the bottom of the ravine in some degree facilitated their progress, but it was not until they had been toiling up for two hours more that they succeeded in reaching the summit of the cliff. Eagerly and anxiously did they look around. To the south there was nothing but the sea they had traversed; to the north, nothing but one drear, inhospitable stretch. Servadac could not suppress a cry of dismay. Where was his beloved France? Had he gained this arduous height only to behold the rocks carpeted with ice and snow, and reaching interminably to the far-off horizon? His heart sank within him. The whole region appeared to consist of nothing but the same strange, uniform mineral conglomerate, crystallized into regular hexagonal prisms. But whatever was its geological character, it was only too evident that it had entirely replaced the former soil, so that not a vestige of the old continent of Europe could be discerned. The lovely scenery of Provence, with the grace of its rich and undulating landscape; its gardens of citrons and oranges rising tier upon tier from the deep red soil—all, all had vanished. Of the vegetable kingdom, there was not a single representative; the most meager of Arctic plants, the most insignificant of lichens, could obtain no hold upon that stony waste. Nor did the animal world assert the feeblest sway. The mineral kingdom reigned supreme. Captain Servadac’s deep dejection was in strange contrast to his general hilarity. Silent and tearful, he stood upon an ice-bound rock, straining his eyes across the boundless vista of the mysterious territory. “It cannot be!” he exclaimed. “We must somehow have mistaken our bearings. True, we have encountered this barrier; but France is there beyond! Yes, France is Come, count, come! By all that’s pitiful, I entreat you, come and explore the farthest verge of the ice-bound track!” there! He pushed onwards along the rugged surface of the rock, but had not proceeded far before he came to a sudden pause. His foot had come in contact with something hard beneath the snow, and, stooping down, he picked up a little block of stony substance, which the first glance revealed to be of a geological character altogether alien to the universal rocks around. It proved to be a fragment of dis-colored marble, on which several letters were inscribed, of which the only part at all decipherable was the syllable “Vil.” “Vil—Villa!” he cried out, in his excitement dropping the marble, which was broken into atoms by the fall. What else could this fragment be but the sole surviving remnant of some sumptuous mansion that once had stood on this unrivaled site? Was it not the residue of some edifice that had crowned the luxuriant headland of Antibes, overlooking Nice, and commanding the gorgeous panorama that embraced the Maritime Alps and reached beyond Monaco and Mentone to the Italian height of Bordighera? And did it not give in its sad and too convincing testimony that Antibes itself had been involved in the great destruction? Servadac gazed upon the shattered marble, pensive and disheartened. Count Timascheff laid his hand kindly on the captain’s shoulder, and said, “My friend, do you not remember the motto of the old Hope family?” He shook his head mournfully. “ ,” continued the count—“Though the world be shattered, hope is unimpaired.” Orbe fracto, spes illoesa Servadac smiled faintly, and replied that he felt rather compelled to take up the despairing cry of Dante, “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” “Nay, not so,” answered the count; “for the present at least, let our maxim be ” Nil desperandum! About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). Off on a Comet! a Journey through Planetary Space. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1353/pg1353-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE RESIDUUM OF A CONTINENT

The Underground City; Or, The Black Indies by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE DOCHART PIT here CHAPTER III. THE DOCHART PIT Harry Ford was a fine, strapping fellow of five and twenty. His grave looks, his habitually passive expression, had from childhood been noticed among his comrades in the mine. His regular features, his deep blue eyes, his curly hair, rather chestnut than fair, the natural grace of his person, altogether made him a fine specimen of a lowlander. Accustomed from his earliest days to the work of the mine, he was strong and hardy, as well as brave and good. Guided by his father, and impelled by his own inclinations, he had early begun his education, and at an age when most lads are little more than apprentices, he had managed to make himself of some importance, a leader, in fact, among his fellows, and few are very ignorant in a country which does all it can to remove ignorance. Though, during the first years of his youth, the pick was never out of Harry’s hand, nevertheless the young miner was not long in acquiring sufficient knowledge to raise him into the upper class of the miners, and he would certainly have succeeded his father as overman of the Dochart pit, if the colliery had not been abandoned. James Starr was still a good walker, yet he could not easily have kept up with his guide, if the latter had not slackened his pace. The young man, carrying the engineer’s bag, followed the left bank of the river for about a mile. Leaving its winding course, they took a road under tall, dripping trees. Wide fields lay on either side, around isolated farms. In one field a herd of hornless cows were quietly grazing; in another sheep with silky wool, like those in a child’s toy sheep fold. The Yarrow shaft was situated four miles from Callander. Whilst walking, James Starr could not but be struck with the change in the country. He had not seen it since the day when the last ton of Aberfoyle coal had been emptied into railway trucks to be sent to Glasgow. Agricultural life had now taken the place of the more stirring, active, industrial life. The contrast was all the greater because, during winter, field work is at a standstill. But formerly, at whatever season, the mining population, above and below ground, filled the scene with animation. Great wagons of coal used to be passing night and day. The rails, with their rotten sleepers, now disused, were then constantly ground by the weight of wagons. Now stony roads took the place of the old mining tramways. James Starr felt as if he was traversing a desert. The engineer gazed about him with a saddened eye. He stopped now and then to take breath. He listened. The air was no longer filled with distant whistlings and the panting of engines. None of those black vapors which the manufacturer loves to see, hung in the horizon, mingling with the clouds. No tall cylindrical or prismatic chimney vomited out smoke, after being fed from the mine itself; no blast-pipe was puffing out its white vapor. The ground, formerly black with coal dust, had a bright look, to which James Starr’s eyes were not accustomed. When the engineer stood still, Harry Ford stopped also. The young miner waited in silence. He felt what was passing in his companion’s mind, and he shared his feelings; he, a child of the mine, whose whole life had been passed in its depths. “Yes, Harry, it is all changed,” said Starr. “But at the rate we worked, of course the treasures of coal would have been exhausted some day. Do you regret that time?” “I do regret it, Mr. Starr,” answered Harry. “The work was hard, but it was interesting, as are all struggles.” “No doubt, my lad. A continuous struggle against the dangers of landslips, fires, inundations, explosions of firedamp, like claps of thunder. One had to guard against all those perils! You say well! It was a struggle, and consequently an exciting life.” “The miners of Alva have been more favored than the miners of Aberfoyle, Mr. Starr!” “Ay, Harry, so they have,” replied the engineer. “Indeed,” cried the young man, “it’s a pity that all the globe was not made of coal; then there would have been enough to last millions of years!” “No doubt there would, Harry; it must be acknowledged, however, that nature has shown more forethought by forming our sphere principally of sandstone, limestone, and granite, which fire cannot consume.” “Do you mean to say, Mr. Starr, that mankind would have ended by burning their own globe?” “Yes! The whole of it, my lad,” answered the engineer. “The earth would have passed to the last bit into the furnaces of engines, machines, steamers, gas factories; certainly, that would have been the end of our world one fine day!” “There is no fear of that now, Mr. Starr. But yet, the mines will be exhausted, no doubt, and more rapidly than the statistics make out!” “That will happen, Harry; and in my opinion England is very wrong in exchanging her fuel for the gold of other nations! I know well,” added the engineer, “that neither hydraulics nor electricity has yet shown all they can do, and that some day these two forces will be more completely utilized. But no matter! Coal is of a very practical use, and lends itself easily to the various wants of industry. Unfortunately man cannot produce it at will. Though our external forests grow incessantly under the influence of heat and water, our subterranean forests will not be reproduced, and if they were, the globe would never be in the state necessary to make them into coal.” James Starr and his guide, whilst talking, had continued their walk at a rapid pace. An hour after leaving Callander they reached the Dochart pit. The most indifferent person would have been touched at the appearance this deserted spot presented. It was like the skeleton of something that had formerly lived. A few wretched trees bordered a plain where the ground was hidden under the black dust of the mineral fuel, but no cinders nor even fragments of coal were to be seen. All had been carried away and consumed long ago. They walked into the shed which covered the opening of the Yarrow shaft, whence ladders still gave access to the lower galleries of the pit. The engineer bent over the opening. Formerly from this place could be heard the powerful whistle of the air inhaled by the ventilators. It was now a silent abyss. It was like being at the mouth of some extinct volcano. When the mine was being worked, ingenious machines were used in certain shafts of the Aberfoyle colliery, which in this respect was very well off; frames furnished with automatic lifts, working in wooden slides, oscillating ladders, called “man-engines,” which, by a simple movement, permitted the miners to descend without danger. But all these appliances had been carried away, after the cessation of the works. In the Yarrow shaft there remained only a long succession of ladders, separated at every fifty feet by narrow landings. Thirty of these ladders placed thus end to end led the visitor down into the lower gallery, a depth of fifteen hundred feet. This was the only way of communication which existed between the bottom of the Dochart pit and the open air. As to air, that came in by the Yarrow shaft, from whence galleries communicated with another shaft whose orifice opened at a higher level; the warm air naturally escaped by this species of inverted siphon. “I will follow you, my lad,” said the engineer, signing to the young man to precede him. “As you please, Mr. Starr.” “Have you your lamp?” “Yes, and I only wish it was still the safety lamp, which we formerly had to use!” “Sure enough,” returned James Starr, “there is no fear of fire-damp explosions now!” Harry was provided with a simple oil lamp, the wick of which he lighted. In the mine, now empty of coal, escapes of light carburetted hydrogen could not occur. As no explosion need be feared, there was no necessity for interposing between the flame and the surrounding air that metallic screen which prevents the gas from catching fire. The Davy lamp was of no use here. But if the danger did not exist, it was because the cause of it had disappeared, and with this cause, the combustible in which formerly consisted the riches of the Dochart pit. Harry descended the first steps of the upper ladder. Starr followed. They soon found themselves in a profound obscurity, which was only relieved by the glimmer of the lamp. The young man held it above his head, the better to light his companion. A dozen ladders were descended by the engineer and his guide, with the measured step habitual to the miner. They were all still in good condition. James Starr examined, as well as the insufficient light would permit, the sides of the dark shaft, which were covered by a partly rotten lining of wood. Arrived at the fifteenth landing, that is to say, half way down, they halted for a few minutes. “Decidedly, I have not your legs, my lad,” said the engineer, panting. “You are very stout, Mr. Starr,” replied Harry, “and it’s something too, you see, to live all one’s life in the mine.” “Right, Harry. Formerly, when I was twenty, I could have gone down all at a breath. Come, forward!” But just as the two were about to leave the platform, a voice, as yet far distant, was heard in the depths of the shaft. It came up like a sonorous billow, swelling as it advanced, and becoming more and more distinct. “Halloo! who comes here?” asked the engineer, stopping Harry. “I cannot say,” answered the young miner. “Is it not your father?” “My father, Mr. Starr? no.” “Some neighbor, then?” “We have no neighbors in the bottom of the pit,” replied Harry. “We are alone, quite alone.” “Well, we must let this intruder pass,” said James Starr. “Those who are descending must yield the path to those who are ascending.” They waited. The voice broke out again with a magnificent burst, as if it had been carried through a vast speaking trumpet; and soon a few words of a Scotch song came clearly to the ears of the young miner. “The Hundred Pipers!” cried Harry. “Well, I shall be much surprised if that comes from the lungs of any man but Jack Ryan.” “And who is this Jack Ryan?” asked James Starr. “An old mining comrade,” replied Harry. Then leaning from the platform, “Halloo! Jack!” he shouted. “Is that you, Harry?” was the reply. “Wait a bit, I’m coming.” And the song broke forth again. In a few minutes, a tall fellow of five and twenty, with a merry face, smiling eyes, a laughing mouth, and sandy hair, appeared at the bottom of the luminous cone which was thrown from his lantern, and set foot on the landing of the fifteenth ladder. His first act was to vigorously wring the hand which Harry extended to him. “Delighted to meet you!” he exclaimed. “If I had only known you were to be above ground to-day, I would have spared myself going down the Yarrow shaft!” “This is Mr. James Starr,” said Harry, turning his lamp towards the engineer, who was in the shadow. “Mr. Starr!” cried Jack Ryan. “Ah, sir, I could not see. Since I left the mine, my eyes have not been accustomed to see in the dark, as they used to do.” “Ah, I remember a laddie who was always singing. That was ten years ago. It was you, no doubt?” “Ay, Mr. Starr, but in changing my trade, I haven’t changed my disposition. It’s far better to laugh and sing than to cry and whine!” “You’re right there, Jack Ryan. And what do you do now, as you have left the mine?” “I am working on the Melrose farm, forty miles from here. Ah, it’s not like our Aberfoyle mines! The pick comes better to my hand than the spade or hoe. And then, in the old pit, there were vaulted roofs, to merrily echo one’s songs, while up above ground!—But you are going to see old Simon, Mr. Starr?” “Yes, Jack,” answered the engineer. “Don’t let me keep you then.” “Tell me, Jack,” said Harry, “what was taking you to our cottage to-day?” “I wanted to see you, man,” replied Jack, “and ask you to come to the Irvine games. You know I am the piper of the place. There will be dancing and singing.” “Thank you, Jack, but it’s impossible.” “Impossible?” “Yes; Mr. Starr’s visit will last some time, and I must take him back to Callander.” “Well, Harry, it won’t be for a week yet. By that time Mr. Starr’s visit will be over, I should think, and there will be nothing to keep you at the cottage.” “Indeed, Harry,” said James Starr, “you must profit by your friend Jack’s invitation.” “Well, I accept it, Jack,” said Harry. “In a week we will meet at Irvine.” “In a week, that’s settled,” returned Ryan. “Good-by, Harry! Your servant, Mr. Starr. I am very glad to have seen you again! I can give news of you to all my friends. No one has forgotten you, sir.” “And I have forgotten no one,” said Starr. “Thanks for all, sir,” replied Jack. “Good-by, Jack,” said Harry, shaking his hand. And Jack Ryan, singing as he went, soon disappeared in the heights of the shaft, dimly lighted by his lamp. A quarter of an hour afterwards James Starr and Harry descended the last ladder, and set foot on the lowest floor of the pit. From the bottom of the Yarrow shaft radiated numerous empty galleries. They ran through the wall of schist and sandstone, some shored up with great, roughly-hewn beams, others lined with a thick casing of wood. In every direction embankments supplied the place of the excavated veins. Artificial pillars were made of stone from neighboring quarries, and now they supported the ground, that is to say, the double layer of tertiary and quaternary soil, which formerly rested on the seam itself. Darkness now filled the galleries, formerly lighted either by the miner’s lamp or by the electric light, the use of which had been introduced in the mines. “Will you not rest a while, Mr. Starr?” asked the young man. “No, my lad,” replied the engineer, “for I am anxious to be at your father’s cottage.” “Follow me then, Mr. Starr. I will guide you, and yet I daresay you could find your way perfectly well through this dark labyrinth.” “Yes, indeed! I have the whole plan of the old pit still in my head.” Harry, followed by the engineer, and holding his lamp high the better to light their way, walked along a high gallery, like the nave of a cathedral. Their feet still struck against the wooden sleepers which used to support the rails. They had not gone more than fifty paces, when a huge stone fell at the feet of James Starr. “Take care, Mr. Starr!” cried Harry, seizing the engineer by the arm. “A stone, Harry! Ah! these old vaultings are no longer quite secure, of course, and—” “Mr. Starr,” said Harry Ford, “it seems to me that stone was thrown, thrown as by the hand of man!” “Thrown!” exclaimed James Starr. “What do you mean, lad?” “Nothing, nothing, Mr. Starr,” replied Harry evasively, his anxious gaze endeavoring to pierce the darkness. “Let us go on. Take my arm, sir, and don’t be afraid of making a false step.” “Here I am, Harry.” And they both advanced, whilst Harry looked on every side, throwing the light of his lamp into all the corners of the gallery. “Shall we soon be there?” asked the engineer. “In ten minutes at most.” “Good.” “But,” muttered Harry, “that was a most singular thing. It is the first time such an accident has happened to me. “That stone falling just at the moment we were passing.” “Harry, it was a mere chance.” “Chance,” replied the young man, shaking his head. “Yes, chance.” He stopped and listened. “What is the matter, Harry?” asked the engineer. “I thought I heard someone walking behind us,” replied the young miner, listening more attentively. Then he added, “No, I must have been mistaken. Lean harder on my arm, Mr. Starr. Use me like a staff.” “A good solid staff, Harry,” answered James Starr. “I could not wish for a better than a fine fellow like you.” They continued in silence along the dark nave. Harry was evidently preoccupied, and frequently turned, trying to catch, either some distant noise, or remote glimmer of light. But behind and before, all was silence and darkness. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). The Underground City; Or, The Black Indies. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1353/pg1353-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE DOCHART PIT

The Underground City; Or, The Black Indies by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . ON THE ROAD here CHAPTER II. ON THE ROAD The course of James Starr’s ideas was abruptly stopped, when he got this second letter contradicting the first. “What does this mean?” said he to himself. He took up the torn envelope, and examined it. Like the other, it bore the Aberfoyle postmark. It had therefore come from the same part of the county of Stirling. The old miner had evidently not written it. But, no less evidently, the author of this second letter knew the overman’s secret, since it expressly contradicted the invitation to the engineer to go to the Yarrow shaft. Was it really true that the first communication was now without object? Did someone wish to prevent James Starr from troubling himself either uselessly or otherwise? Might there not be rather a malevolent intention to thwart Ford’s plans? This was the conclusion at which James Starr arrived, after mature reflection. The contradiction which existed between the two letters only wrought in him a more keen desire to visit the Dochart pit. And besides, if after all it was a hoax, it was well worth while to prove it. Starr also thought it wiser to give more credence to the first letter than to the second; that is to say, to the request of such a man as Simon Ford, rather than to the warning of his anonymous contradictor. “Indeed,” said he, “the fact of anyone endeavoring to influence my resolution, shows that Ford’s communication must be of great importance. To-morrow, at the appointed time, I shall be at the rendezvous.” In the evening, Starr made his preparations for departure. As it might happen that his absence would be prolonged for some days, he wrote to Sir W. Elphiston, President of the Royal Institution, that he should be unable to be present at the next meeting of the Society. He also wrote to excuse himself from two or three engagements which he had made for the week. Then, having ordered his servant to pack a traveling bag, he went to bed, more excited than the affair perhaps warranted. The next day, at five o’clock, James Starr jumped out of bed, dressed himself warmly, for a cold rain was falling, and left his house in the Canongate, to go to Granton Pier to catch the steamer, which in three hours would take him up the Forth as far as Stirling. For the first time in his life, perhaps, in passing along the Canongate, he did , the palace of the former sovereigns of Scotland. He did not notice the sentinels who stood before its gateways, dressed in the uniform of their Highland regiment, tartan kilt, plaid and sporran complete. His whole thought was to reach Callander where Harry Ford was supposedly awaiting him. not turn to look at Holyrood The better to understand this narrative, it will be as well to hear a few words on the origin of coal. During the geological epoch, when the terrestrial spheroid was still in course of formation, a thick atmosphere surrounded it, saturated with watery vapors, and copiously impregnated with carbonic acid. The vapors gradually condensed in diluvial rains, which fell as if they had leapt from the necks of thousands of millions of seltzer water bottles. This liquid, loaded with carbonic acid, rushed in torrents over a deep soft soil, subject to sudden or slow alterations of form, and maintained in its semi-fluid state as much by the heat of the sun as by the fires of the interior mass. The internal heat had not as yet been collected in the center of the globe. The terrestrial crust, thin and incompletely hardened, allowed it to spread through its pores. This caused a peculiar form of vegetation, such as is probably produced on the surface of the inferior planets, Venus or Mercury, which revolve nearer than our earth around the radiant sun of our system. The soil of the continents was covered with immense forests. Carbonic acid, so suitable for the development of the vegetable kingdom, abounded. The feet of these trees were drowned in a sort of immense lagoon, kept continually full by currents of fresh and salt waters. They eagerly assimilated to themselves the carbon which they, little by little, extracted from the atmosphere, as yet unfit for the function of life, and it may be said that they were destined to store it, in the form of coal, in the very bowels of the earth. It was the earthquake period, caused by internal convulsions, which suddenly modified the unsettled features of the terrestrial surface. Here, an intumescence which was to become a mountain, there, an abyss which was to be filled with an ocean or a sea. There, whole forests sunk through the earth’s crust, below the unfixed strata, either until they found a resting-place, such as the primitive bed of granitic rock, or, settling together in a heap, they formed a solid mass. As the waters were contained in no bed, and were spread over every part of the globe, they rushed where they liked, tearing from the scarcely-formed rocks material with which to compose schists, sandstones, and limestones. This the roving waves bore over the submerged and now peaty forests, and deposited above them the elements of rocks which were to superpose the coal strata. In course of time, periods of which include millions of years, these earths hardened in layers, and enclosed under a thick carapace of pudding-stone, schist, compact or friable sandstone, gravel and stones, the whole of the massive forests. And what went on in this gigantic crucible, where all this vegetable matter had accumulated, sunk to various depths? A regular chemical operation, a sort of distillation. All the carbon contained in these vegetables had agglomerated, and little by little coal was forming under the double influence of enormous pressure and the high temperature maintained by the internal fires, at this time so close to it. Thus there was one kingdom substituted for another in this slow but irresistible reaction. The vegetable was transformed into a mineral. Plants which had lived the vegetative life in all the vigor of first creation became petrified. Some of the substances enclosed in this vast herbal left their impression on the other more rapidly mineralized products, which pressed them as an hydraulic press of incalculable power would have done. Thus also shells, zoophytes, star-fish, polypi, spirifores, even fish and lizards brought by the water, left on the yet soft coal their exact likeness, “admirably taken off.” Pressure seems to have played a considerable part in the formation of carboniferous strata. In fact, it is to its degree of power that are due the different sorts of coal, of which industry makes use. Thus in the lowest layers of the coal ground appears the anthracite, which, being almost destitute of volatile matter, contains the greatest quantity of carbon. In the higher beds are found, on the contrary, lignite and fossil wood, substances in which the quantity of carbon is infinitely less. Between these two beds, according to the degree of pressure to which they have been subjected, are found veins of graphite and rich or poor coal. It may be asserted that it is for want of sufficient pressure that beds of peaty bog have not been completely changed into coal. So then, the origin of coal mines, in whatever part of the globe they have been discovered, is this: the absorption through the terrestrial crust of the great forests of the geological period; then, the mineralization of the vegetables obtained in the course of time, under the influence of pressure and heat, and under the action of carbonic acid. Now, at the time when the events related in this story took place, some of the most important mines of the Scottish coal beds had been exhausted by too rapid working. In the region which extends between Edinburgh and Glasgow, for a distance of ten or twelve miles, lay the Aberfoyle colliery, of which the engineer, James Starr, had so long directed the works. For ten years these mines had been abandoned. No new seams had been discovered, although the soundings had been carried to a depth of fifteen hundred or even of two thousand feet, and when James Starr had retired, it was with the full conviction that even the smallest vein had been completely exhausted. Under these circumstances, it was plain that the discovery of a new seam of coal would be an important event. Could Simon Ford’s communication relate to a fact of this nature? This question James Starr could not cease asking himself. Was he called to make conquest of another corner of these rich treasure fields? Fain would he hope it was so. The second letter had for an instant checked his speculations on this subject, but now he thought of that letter no longer. Besides, the son of the old overman was there, waiting at the appointed rendezvous. The anonymous letter was therefore worth nothing. The moment the engineer set foot on the platform at the end of his journey, the young man advanced towards him. “Are you Harry Ford?” asked the engineer quickly. “Yes, Mr. Starr.” “I should not have known you, my lad. Of course in ten years you have become a man!” “I knew you directly, sir,” replied the young miner, cap in hand. “You have not changed. You look just as you did when you bade us good-by in the Dochart pit. I haven’t forgotten that day.” “Put on your cap, Harry,” said the engineer. “It’s pouring, and politeness needn’t make you catch cold.” “Shall we take shelter anywhere, Mr. Starr?” asked young Ford. “No, Harry. The weather is settled. It will rain all day, and I am in a hurry. Let us go on.” “I am at your orders,” replied Harry. “Tell me, Harry, is your father well?” “Very well, Mr. Starr.” “And your mother?” “She is well, too.” “Was it your father who wrote telling me to come to the Yarrow shaft?” “No, it was I.” “Then did Simon Ford send me a second letter to contradict the first?” asked the engineer quickly. “No, Mr. Starr,” answered the young miner. “Very well,” said Starr, without speaking of the anonymous letter. Then, continuing, “And can you tell me what you father wants with me?” “Mr. Starr, my father wishes to tell you himself.” “But you know what it is?” “I do, sir.” “Well, Harry, I will not ask you more. But let us get on, for I’m anxious to see Simon Ford. By-the-bye, where does he live?” “In the mine.” “What! In the Dochart pit?” “Yes, Mr. Starr,” replied Harry. “Really! has your family never left the old mine since the cessation of the works?” “Not a day, Mr. Starr. You know my father. It is there he was born, it is there he means to die!” “I can understand that, Harry. I can understand that! His native mine! He did not like to abandon it! And are you happy there?” “Yes, Mr. Starr,” replied the young miner, “for we love one another, and we have but few wants.” “Well, Harry,” said the engineer, “lead the way.” And walking rapidly through the streets of Callander, in a few minutes they had left the town behind them. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). The Underground City; Or, The Black Indies. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1353/pg1353-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

ON THE ROAD

The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter XXI here Chapter XXI From this time Pencroft did not let a single day pass without going to visit what he gravely called his “corn-field.” And woe to the insects which dared to venture there! No mercy was shown them. Towards the end of the month of June, after incessant rain, the weather became decidedly colder, and on the 29th a Fahrenheit thermometer would certainly have announced only twenty degrees above zero, that is considerably below the freezing-point. The next day, the 30th of June, the day which corresponds to the 31st of December in the northern year, was a Friday. Neb remarked that the year finished on a bad day, but Pencroft replied that naturally the next would begin on a good one, which was better. At any rate it commenced by very severe cold. Ice accumulated at the mouth of the Mercy, and it was not long before the whole expanse of the lake was frozen. The settlers had frequently been obliged to renew their store of wood. Pencroft also had wisely not waited till the river was frozen, but had brought enormous rafts of wood to their destination. The current was an indefatigable moving power, and it was employed in conveying the floating wood to the moment when the frost enchained it. To the fuel which was so abundantly supplied by the forest, they added several cartloads of coal, which had to be brought from the foot of the spurs of Mount Franklin. The powerful heat of the coal was greatly appreciated in the low temperature, which on the 4th of July fell to eight degrees of Fahrenheit, that is, thirteen degrees below zero. A second fireplace had been established in the dining-room, where they all worked together at their different avocations. During this period of cold, Cyrus Harding had great cause to congratulate himself on having brought to Granite House the little stream of water from Lake Grant. Taken below the frozen surface, and conducted through the passage, it preserved its fluidity, and arrived at an interior reservoir which had been hollowed out at the back part of the storeroom, while the overflow ran through the well to the sea. About this time, the weather being extremely dry, the colonists, clothed as warmly as possible, resolved to devote a day to the exploration of that part of the island between the Mercy and Claw Cape. It was a wide extent of marshy land, and they would probably find good sport, for water-birds ought to swarm there. They reckoned that it would be about eight or nine miles to go there, and as much to return, so that the whole of the day would be occupied. As an unknown part of the island was about to be explored, the whole colony took part in the expedition. Accordingly, on the 5th of July, at six o’clock in the morning, when day had scarcely broken, Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft, armed with spears, snares, bows and arrows, and provided with provisions, left Granite House, preceded by Top, who bounded before them. Their shortest way was to cross the Mercy on the ice, which then covered it. “But,” as the engineer justly observed, “that could not take the place of a regular bridge!” So, the construction of a regular bridge was noted in the list of future works. It was the first time that the settlers had set foot on the right bank of the Mercy, and ventured into the midst of those gigantic and superb coniferae now sprinkled over with snow. But they had not gone half a mile when from a thicket a whole family of quadrupeds, who had made a home there, disturbed by Top, rushed forth into the open country. “Ah! I should say those are foxes!” cried Herbert, when he saw the troop rapidly decamping. They were foxes, but of a very large size, who uttered a sort of barking, at which Top seemed to be very much astonished, for he stopped short in the chase, and gave the swift animals time to disappear. The dog had reason to be surprised, as he did not know Natural History. But, by their barking, these foxes, with reddish-gray hair, black tails terminating in a white tuft, had betrayed their origin. So Herbert was able, without hesitating, to give them their real name of “Arctic foxes.” They are frequently met with in Chile, in the Falkland Islands, and in all parts of America traversed by the thirtieth and fortieth parallels. Herbert much regretted that Top had not been able to catch one of these carnivora. “Are they good to eat?” asked Pencroft, who only regarded the representatives of the fauna in the island from one special point of view. “No,” replied Herbert; “but zoologists have not yet found out if the eye of these foxes is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether it is correct to class them in the genus dog, properly so called.” Harding could not help smiling on hearing the lad’s reflection, which showed a thoughtful mind. As to the sailor, from the moment when he found that the foxes were not classed in the genus eatable, they were nothing to him. However, when a poultry-yard was established at Granite House, he observed that it would be best to take some precautions against a probable visit from these four-legged plunderers, and no one disputed this. After having turned the point, the settlers saw a long beach washed by the open sea. It was then eight o’clock in the morning. The sky was very clear, as it often is after prolonged cold; but warmed by their walk, neither Harding nor his companions felt the sharpness of the atmosphere too severely. Besides there was no wind, which made it much more bearable. A brilliant sun, but without any calorific action, was just issuing from the ocean. The sea was as tranquil and blue as that of a Mediterranean gulf, when the sky is clear. Claw Cape, bent in the form of a yataghan, tapered away nearly four miles to the southeast. To the left the edge of the marsh was abruptly ended by a little point. Certainly, in this part of Union Bay, which nothing sheltered from the open sea, not even a sandbank, ships beaten by the east winds would have found no shelter. They perceived by the tranquillity of the sea, in which no shallows troubled the waters, by its uniform color, which was stained by no yellow shades, by the absence of even a reef, that the coast was steep and that the ocean there covered a deep abyss. Behind in the west, but at a distance of four miles, rose the first trees of the forests of the Far West. They might have believed themselves to be on the desolate coast of some island in the Antarctic regions which the ice had invaded. The colonists halted at this place for breakfast. A fire of brushwood and dried seaweed was lighted, and Neb prepared the breakfast of cold meat, to which he added some cups of Oswego tea. While eating they looked around them. This part of Lincoln Island was very sterile, and contrasted with all the western part. The reporter was thus led to observe that if chance had thrown them at first on the shore, they would have had but a deplorable idea of their future domain. “I believe that we should not have been able to reach it,” replied the engineer, “for the sea is deep, and there is not a rock on which we could have taken refuge. Before Granite House, at least, there were sandbanks, an islet, which multiplied our chances of safety. Here, nothing but the depths!” “It is singular enough,” remarked Spilett, “that this comparatively small island should present such varied ground. This diversity of aspect, logically only belongs to continents of a certain extent. One would really say, that the western part of Lincoln Island, so rich and so fertile, is washed by the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and that its shores to the north and the southeast extend over a sort of Arctic sea.” “You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied Cyrus Harding, “I have also observed this. I think the form and also the nature of this island strange. It is a summary of all the aspects which a continent presents, and I should not be surprised if it was a continent formerly.” “What! a continent in the middle of the Pacific?” cried Pencroft. “Why not?” replied Cyrus Harding. “Why should not Australia, New Ireland, Australasia, united to the archipelagoes of the Pacific, have once formed a sixth part of the world, as important as Europe or Asia, as Africa or the two Americas? To my mind, it is quite possible that all these islands, emerging from this vast ocean, are but the summits of a continent, now submerged, but which was above the waters at a prehistoric period.” “As the Atlantis was formerly,” replied Herbert. “Yes, my boy... if, however, it existed.” “And would Lincoln Island have been a part of that continent?” asked Pencroft. “It is probable,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and that would sufficiently, explain the variety of productions which are seen on its surface.” “And the great number of animals which still inhabit it,” added Herbert. “Yes, my boy,” replied the engineer, “and you furnish me with an argument to support my theory. It is certain, after what we have seen, that animals are numerous in this island, and what is more strange, that the species are extremely varied. There is a reason for that, and to me it is that Lincoln Island may have formerly been a part of some vast continent which had gradually sunk below the Pacific.” “Then, some fine day,” said Pencroft, who did not appear to be entirely convinced, “the rest of this ancient continent may disappear in its turn, and there will be nothing between America and Asia.” “Yes,” replied Harding, “there will be new continents which millions and millions of animalculae are building at this moment.” “And what are these masons?” asked Pencroft. “Coral insects,” replied Cyrus Harding. “By constant work they made the island of Clermont-Tonnerre, and numerous other coral islands in the Pacific Ocean. Forty-seven millions of these insects are needed to weigh a grain, and yet, with the sea-salt they absorb, the solid elements of water which they assimilate, these animalculae produce limestone, and this limestone forms enormous submarine erections, of which the hardness and solidity equal granite. Formerly, at the first periods of creation, nature employing fire, heaved up the land, but now she entrusts to these microscopic creatures the task of replacing this agent, of which the dynamic power in the interior of the globe has evidently diminished—which is proved by the number of volcanoes on the surface of the earth, now actually extinct. And I believe that centuries succeeding to centuries, and insects to insects, this Pacific may one day be changed into a vast continent, which new generations will inhabit and civilize in their turn.” “That will take a long time,” said Pencroft. “Nature has time for it,” replied the engineer. “But what would be the use of new continents?” asked Herbert. “It appears to me that the present extent of habitable countries is sufficient for humanity. Yet nature does nothing uselessly.” “Nothing uselessly, certainly,” replied the engineer, “but this is how the necessity of new continents for the future, and exactly on the tropical zone occupied by the coral islands, may be explained. At least to me this explanation appears plausible.” “We are listening, captain,” said Herbert. “This is my idea: philosophers generally admit that some day our globe will end, or rather that animal and vegetable life will no longer be possible, because of the intense cold to which it will be subjected. What they are not agreed upon, is the cause of this cold. Some think that it will arise from the falling of the temperature, which the sun will experience after millions of years; others, from the gradual extinction of the fires in the interior of our globe, which have a greater influence on it than is generally supposed. I hold to this last hypothesis, grounding it on the fact that the moon is really a cold star, which is no longer habitable, although the sun continues to throw on its surface the same amount of heat. If, then, the moon has become cold, it is because the interior fires to which, as do all the stars of the stellar world, it owes its origin, are completely extinct. Lastly, whatever may be the cause, our globe will become cold some day, but this cold will only operate gradually. What will happen, then? The temperate zones, at a more or less distant period, will not be more habitable than the polar regions now are. Then the population of men, as well as the animals, will flow towards the latitudes which are more directly under the solar influence. An immense emigration will take place. Europe, Central Asia, North America, will gradually be abandoned, as well as Australasia and the lower parts of South America. The vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora will retreat towards the Equator at the same time as the fauna. The central parts of South America and Africa will be the continents chiefly inhabited. The Laplanders and the Samoides will find the climate of the polar regions on the shores of the Mediterranean. Who can say, that at this period, the equatorial regions will not be too small, to contain and nourish terrestrial humanity? Now, may not provident nature, so as to give refuge to all the vegetable and animal emigration, be at present laying the foundation of a new continent under the Equator, and may she not have entrusted these insects with the construction of it? I have often thought of all these things, my friends, and I seriously believe that the aspect of our globe will some day be completely changed; that by the raising of new continents the sea will cover the old, and that, in future ages, a Columbus will go to discover the islands of Chimborazo, of the Himalayas, or of Mont Blanc, remains of a submerged America, Asia, and Europe. Then these new continents will become, in their turn, uninhabitable; heat will die away, as does the heat from a body when the soul has left it; and life will disappear from the globe, if not for ever, at least for a period. Perhaps then, our spheroid will rest—will be left to death—to revive some day under superior conditions! But all that, my friends, is the secret of the Author of all things; and beginning by the work of the insects, I have perhaps let myself be carried too far, in investigating the secrets of the future. “My dear Cyrus,” replied Spilett, “these theories are prophecies to me, and they will be accomplished some day.” “That is the secret of God,” said the engineer. “All that is well and good,” then said Pencroft, who had listened with all his might, “but will you tell me, captain, if Lincoln Island has been made by your insects?” “No,” replied Harding; “it is of a purely volcanic origin.” “Then it will disappear some day?” “That is probable.” “I hope we won’t be here then.” “No, don’t be uneasy, Pencroft; we shall not be here then, as we have no wish to die here, and hope to get away some time.” “In the meantime,” replied Gideon Spilett, “let us establish ourselves here as if forever. There is no use in doing things by halves.” This ended the conversation. Breakfast was finished, the exploration was continued, and the settlers arrived at the border of the marshy region. It was a marsh of which the extent, to the rounded coast which terminated the island at the southeast, was about twenty square miles. The soil was formed of clayey flint-earth, mingled with vegetable matter, such as the remains of rushes, reeds, grass, etc. Here and there beds of grass, thick as a carpet, covered it. In many places icy pools sparkled in the sun. Neither rain nor any river, increased by a sudden swelling, could supply these ponds. They therefore naturally concluded that the marsh was fed by the infiltrations of the soil and it was really so. It was also to be feared that during the heat miasmas would arise, which might produce fevers. Above the aquatic plants, on the surface of the stagnant water, fluttered numbers of birds. Wild duck, teal, snipe lived there in flocks, and those fearless birds allowed themselves to be easily approached. One shot from a gun would certainly have brought down some dozen of the birds, they were so close together. The explorers were, however, obliged to content themselves with bows and arrows. The result was less, but the silent arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds, while the noise of firearms would have dispersed them to all parts of the marsh. The hunters were satisfied, for this time, with a dozen ducks, which had white bodies with a band of cinnamon, a green head, wings black, white, and red, and flattened beak. Herbert called them tadorns. Top helped in the capture of these birds, whose name was given to this marshy part of the island. The settlers had here an abundant reserve of aquatic game. At some future time they meant to explore it more carefully, and it was probable that some of the birds there might be domesticated, or at least brought to the shores of the lake, so that they would be more within their reach. About five o’clock in the evening Cyrus Harding and his companions retraced their steps to their dwelling by traversing Tadorn’s Fens, and crossed the Mercy on the ice-bridge. At eight in the evening they all entered Granite House. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). The Mysterious Island. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1268/1268-h/1268-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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