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科学读本（英文原版）第一册
科学读本（英文原版）第二册
科学读本（英文原版）第三册
科学读本（英文原版）第四册
科学读本（英文原版）第五册
科学读本（英文原版）第六册
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科学读本：英文／（美）默奇著．—天津：天津人民出版社，2013.5

ISBN 978-7-201-08100-7

Ⅰ．①科… Ⅱ．①默… Ⅲ．①自然科学—普及读物—英文 Ⅳ．①N49

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科学读本（英文原版）第一册
 第一册

目录
Foreword
Lesson 01 Water
Lesson 02 Water—A Liquid
Lesson 03 Solids
Lesson 04 Liquids and Solids
Lesson 05 The Cat
Lesson 06 More about the Cat
Lesson 07 Hard and Soft Bodies
Lesson 08 Porous Bodies
Lesson 09 The Dog
Lesson 10 Dogs
Lesson 11 A Piece of Clay
Lesson 12 Clay—Its Uses Ⅰ
Lesson 13 Clay—Its Uses Ⅱ
Lesson 14 The Cat's Big Cousins—The Lion
Lesson 15 The Cat's Big Cousins—The Tiger
Lesson 16 Wolves and Foxes
Lesson 17 A Piece of Putty
Lesson 18 Putty—What it is
Lesson 19 Gutta-Percha
Lesson 20 A Piece of Salt
Lesson 21 The Sheep
Lesson 22 Salt
Lesson 23 The Pig
Lesson 24 Rock-Salt—Table Salt
Lesson 25 A Plant
Lesson 26 Sugar
Lesson 27 The Root of a Plant
Lesson 28 Loaf Sugar
Lesson 29 The Root and its Work
Lesson 30 About Burning
Lesson 31 The Stems of Plants
Lesson 32 Coal Ⅰ
Lesson 33 Coal Ⅱ
Lesson 34 Leaves
Lesson 35 Coal—The Mine
Lesson 36 The Mine and the Miners
Lesson 37 More about Leaves
Lesson 38 More about the Mine
Lesson 39 Flowers
Lesson 40 What we mean by Elastic
返回总目录
 Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time.
—James Russell Lowell
 Foreword
This series of Science Readers was published for the use of teachers and students. It will be
found useful, not only in those schools in which Elementary Science is taken as a class subject, but
also for the purposes of an ordinary reader.
Of this series of Science Readers, Books I, II, and III are adapted to pupils who are in their third
and fourth years of school work. Both the reading and the subject matter of Books IV, V, and VI are
suitable for Senior Grades.
It is hoped that the young readers who follow them through these lessons will catch something of
the enthusiasm and earnestness which characterize them as they advance step by step from very small
beginnings to a real understanding of the elementary facts of natural science.
The subject matter in this volume is intended for higher level students, and includes not only a
more in-depth study of the natural sciences, but also attempts to inform the student as to the connection
between scientific advances and economic growth.
At the time of this series' original publication, economic matters were often discussed in British
standards; therefore, the student will find that in the later volumes of the Elementary Science Readers,
British economics and manufactures are discussed quite frequently. This held true even for the
American students who originally used these readers as a textbook to accompany their Elementary
Science class studies.
Furthermore, in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, hunting, fur-and ivory-trading, and
deforestation had become highly developed industries of commerce, to the point where rampant and
indiscriminate activities had caused great devastation to the natural world. In modern times, we seek
to conserve the natural world, and have put in place protection and preservation laws that are
respected and strongly adhered to around the globe; therefore, the reader must approach the lessons
dealing with this subject matter with an open mind, and an understanding that this type of activity,
while unfortunate, remains a part of history and should be addressed as such.
In spite of some of the inevitable discrepancies between the modern world and the one in which
this series was originally published, these science readers remain an excellent source of knowledge
of the fundamental facts of the natural sciences, and the enthusiasm and earnestness which
characterize these lessons are sure to draw the reader in.
 Lesson 01
Water
Fred and his cousin Willie were two smart boys in the same class at school. They were only
little boys, but they were fond of their school and their lessons.
They used to play at school in the evening with Fred's little sister Norah.
Their teacher was giving the class jolly lessons on some of the common things around them.
These were not at all like the other lessons of the day. Teacher gave them to the class as a treat. The
boys soon began to look forward to them, as the best of all their lessons.
Norah, too, liked to hear all about them from the boys. It was great fun to sit around the fire in
the evening, and chat over the lessons of the day.
The first lesson was about water.
"What do you think, Norah?" said Fred one evening. "Teacher began to talk to us about water, by
showing us a saucer full of sawdust."
"He piled up the sawdust in a heap in the saucer, and then tried to do the same with some water
in another saucer."

"But, of course, he couldn't do it," said Willie, "because you can't make water stand up in a heap.
It always keeps a flat or level surface."
"Yes; and, when it got to the top of the saucer, it ran away over the sides, and on to the table,"
added Fred. "We saw it flow along the table, and fall down to the ground."
 "Why, of course," said Norah, "water always flows down. We can see it flow down, if we turn
on the tap. It never flows up."
"Teacher told us to think of the rain, too," said Willie. "The drops of rain always fall down—
never up."
"I can show you some drops of water." said Fred. "Look; I dip this brush in the water, and shake
it. The water will fall from the brush in little round drops."
SUMMARY
We cannot pile up water in a heap; it always keeps a level surface. Water breaks up into little drops, and flows about. Water
always flows down.
 Lesson 02
Water—A Liquid
Norah's mother called her away to mind the baby, before the boys had told her all about their
lesson.
She came back as soon as she could, and they began to chat again.
"I wonder whether Norah forgets what we learned about water," said Fred.
"No," said Norah, "I don't forget. I know that water flows, and it always flows down. It keeps a
flat surface, and it cannot stand in a heap. It breaks up into round drops, but the drops will run
together again, and make a pool of water."
"Quite right," said Fred. "But now I'm going to puzzle you. Can you tell me what shape water is?
"Teacher tried to puzzle us; didn't he, Will? But he soon made it clear. He showed us the saucer,
and we saw that it was round. Then he filled it with water, and of course it was easy to see that the
water in the saucer was round too."
"But the water did not remain round," said Willie, "for teacher next poured it out of the saucer
into a square tin box."
"I know." said Norah, "it became square then, like the box."
"Right," replied Fred, "and then we saw the water poured out of the box into a tumbler; out of the
tumbler into a jug; out of the jug into a bottle. It took the shape of the new vessel each time.
"Can you think of any other things, Norah, that would do as water does?"
"I know some," said Norah. "Milk and oil, vinegar and tea would do the same."
"Now, Norah," said both boys at once, "you must try not to forget the proper name for all these
things. Teacher tells us to call them liquids.
"Liquids flow about, break up into drops, take the shape of the vessel which holds them, and
cannot stand in a heap, but always keep a level surface."
SUMMARY
Water has no shape of its own. It always takes the shape of the vessel which holds it. Water, milk, oil, and vinegar are liquids.
 Lesson 03
Solids
"You know what happens, Norah, when I pour water on the table."
"Oh yes," replied Norah; "it flows about, because it is a liquid."
"Now I will put this stone on the table. Will the stone flow away too?"
"No," said Norah, "it will stand where you place it."
"Then would it be right to call the stone a liquid?" said Fred.
"No, it cannot be a liquid, for all liquids flow."
"We know we can't pick up water," said Fred. "It would run through our fingers, and fall in drops
on the floor.
"But we can pick up the stone without spilling any of it."
"Yes," said Willie, "and we might shake the stone ever so long, but we could not shake drops
from it, as we did from the water in the brush."
"I say, Will," said Fred, "wasn't it funny when teacher shook the saw-dust into the basin, and
asked one of the boys to pick out the piece of wood?"
"Yes," said Will, "but there was no piece of wood in the basin, for the little bits of saw-dust do
not run together, as the drops of water do."
"I think," said Norah, "I can tell you something else. Water and all other liquids have no proper
shape. But if we look at this stone, this brick, or this piece of wood, we can see that each of them has
a shape of its own."
"We know that, when we put some water into the basin, it spreads out to fill it," said Fred.
"Yes," said Norah, "it takes the shape of the basin, and it keeps a level surface."
"Now watch, while I put this brick into the basin. Does it spread out to fill the basin, Norah?"
"No," said Norah.
"Does it take the shape of the basin?"
"No."
"Teacher gave us the proper name for things like the brick and the piece of wood," said Willie.
"We call them solids."
"Solids are bodies that do not flow, do not break up into drops, have a shape of their own, and
do not take the shape of the vessel which holds them."
SUMMARY
Solids do not flow about, and do not fall away in drops, as water does. They do not take the shape of the vessels which hold them,
but have a shape of their own.
 Lesson 04
Liquids and Solids
When the boys, a few nights later, called Norah to come and play school, Fred said: "I want to
be teacher this time. I am going to show Norah what we have been doing in school to-day. Mother
gave me this piece of wax, and said I might have this old iron spoon.
"Now I will put the wax into the spoon," said Fred. "See; it stands in the middle of the spoon.
"I want you to watch what happens, when I hold the spoon over the fire."
"Why, the solid wax is changing into a liquid," said Norah.
"How do you know it is a liquid, Norah?"
"It does not stand up in a lump in the middle of the spoon, as it did at first," said Norah. "It flows
about in the spoon. It keeps a level surface."
"See," said Fred, "I will pour some of it into this pill-box, just as teacher did today, and stand
the box on the table."
"That is just what we saw, Norah, when the meat was roasting the other day," said Will.
"Yes," said Norah, "the solid fat was changed into liquid, and fell in drops into the dish. I took it
up in the spoon, and poured it over the meat to baste it."
"Don't you two children chatter so," said Fred. "I want to have a look at our pill-box.
"See, Norah, the wax is cool now. It does not flow about, even if we turn it upside down. It is
not a liquid now.
"Suppose I cut the box open." said Fred. "Look; here is a round piece of solid wax, the very
shape of the box."
"Why, Fred," said Norah, "this proves that liquids do really take the shape of the vessels which
hold them."
"Quite right, clever little sister," said Fred. "Now tell me what mother does with the liquid fat in
the dripping-pan."
"She pours it into a basin," said Norah; "When it is cold she turns it out as solid dripping, just
the shape of the basin."
"I saw some solid water in a basin the other day." said Will. "We call it ice. The cold weather
changed the water into ice. When I put the basin on the hearth, the solid ice turned into water again."
"You can't change everything like this," said Fred.
"No," said Norah, "we can't change brick, wood, stone, or slate into liquids."
SUMMARY
Wax is a solid. We can change it into a liquid over the fire. The fire melts the wax. When it gets cold it becomes solid again. Ice is
solid water.
 Lesson 05
The Cat
"How snug and cozy puss looks in front of the fire, mother."
The children had just been out for a run, and it was Norah who spoke. "What a quiet, gentle
pussy cat it is," she went on.

"Ah," said her mother, "she wouldn't be very quiet or very gentle if a mouse were to run out of
its hole."
"No," said Willie. "I saw her catch a bird in the garden today. She was fierce and angry then.
She tore it to pieces and ate it, after she had killed it."
"What makes her so cruel sometimes?" asked Norah. "Can't we teach her better, mother?"

"No," said Fred, "we can't; she kills and eats other animals because she was made for it, and
meant for it.
"We had a fine lesson at school about the cat today. I'll tell you all I can about it. Shall I,
Norah?"
"Do, please," said his sister.
"Then take puss on your lap, Norah, and we'll begin," said he. "First look at her eyes. Now look
into my eyes. You see that round black spot in the middle of my eye? That is the pupil of the eye. Light
enters the eye through the pupil. The pupil of the cats eye is not like ours. In the bright light it is a long
narrow slit; when it is dark the pupil opens into a very wide round window."

"I suppose," said Norah, "that is to help her to see when it is dark."
"It is," said Fred. "She wants to see well then, for the mice come out of their holes at night.
"Look at her now while she is stretching herself. What a wide mouth she has, and what long
sharp teeth. Four of the teeth, two in each jaw, are much larger and stronger than the rest. Teacher says
they are meant for seizing and tearing the mice and birds. We move our jaw from side to side, as well
as up and down, when we chew our food. The cat's jaw cannot move side-ways, it moves only up and
down. Her jaws as well as her teeth are meant for cutting, not for chewing.

"I wonder whether the cat will let us look at her tongue? Try and open her mouth, Will." But the
cat began to growl and look so savage that they had to give it up.
"Well," said Fred, "teacher tells us that even the tongue is meant to help the cat in her flesh-
eating. It is not smooth, like our tongue. It is set with small, sharp, horny points which stretch
backwards. The cat uses her rough tongue to strip the flesh from the bones."
SUMMARY
The cat is made to kill and eat other animals. It has a wide mouth, with four great pointed teeth for seizing its prey. All the teeth
have sharp, jagged points fit for cutting through flesh. None of them are made for chewing. The jaw moves only and down. The tongue is
rough. The cat's eyes have a curtain in front. The curtain opens wide when it is getting dark, so that the cat can see well when other
animals cannot see at all. In the daytime the curtain closes, and the pupil of the eye is only a narrow slit.
 Lesson 06
More about the Cat
The next evening, as soon as they sat down, Fred began by asking Norah to tell all she could
about the cat.
"All we have seen," said he, "shows us that the cat was made to kill other living things and feed
on their flesh. Even the cat's eyes are meant to help her to catch her prey in the dark."
"Now, sometimes it is so dark that the cat herself can't see. She has to feel her way. How do you
think she does this, Norah?" Norah was puzzled.
"Look," said Fred, "at that bare patch on each side of the cat's mouth. Her long stiff whiskers
grow out from those patches. The cat feels her way along with the ends of these whiskers."
"Now, little girl," he went on, "we are going to look at the cat's feet. The front paws have five
toes, the hind ones have four. She walks on her toes, not on her whole foot, as we do."
"Look on the under side of the paws and you will see that they all have soft smooth pads. The cat
walks on these pads."

"Oh, I see," said Norah. "if the cat made a noise with her feet the mice would hear her and run
away. So she has pads to walk on."
"Teacher pointed out to us," said Fred, "the loose, springy body, with its soft coat of fur, almost
like velvet. All this is to help the cat to move quickly, and at the same time softly and quietly. She
treads very lightly and softly."
 "Now, one more look at her feet. If we took the cat up when she was angry, we should see that
each toe is armed with a strong, curved, pointed claw."
"We don't see them now; she keeps them drawn up in a sheath. She only stretches them out when
she is angry."
"It is these sharp claws, I suppose," said Norah, "that help to seize the mouse, when she springs
upon it."
SUMMARY
The cat's whiskers help it to feel its way when it is too dark to see. The cat walks on its toes, and the toes are padded, so that they
do not make any sound as they tread. There are five toes on the front paws and four on the hind ones. Each toe has a strong, sharp claw
for seizing the prey. The cat keeps its claws drawn up in a sheath, except when it is angry.
 Lesson 07
Hard and Soft Bodies
"We had a lesson today," said Fred, "about solid bodies—some hard and some soft. Teacher
showed us that we can call a body hard or soft only when we set it side by side with some other
body."
"This is how he did it. He put an apple and a turnip on the table, and side by side with them,
pieces of chalk, cork, wood, lead, iron, flint, steel, and glass. Then he set one of the boys to try and
scratch these things with his nail, one after the other. He could pick pieces out of the turnip and the
apple; he could scratch the chalk, cork, wood, and lead; but he could not make the least mark on the
iron, flint, steel, or glass."
"I see," said Norah. "then this shows that the iron, steel, flint, and glass are harder than the wood
and the lead; and that the wood and the lead are harder than the apple and the turnip."
"You are a sharp little sister," said Fred, "and you are quite right."
"Teacher next gave the boy a knife, and asked him to cut these things. He could cut little pieces
off the lead and the wood, but he could not even scratch the steel, flint, or glass."
"That was a good way, Fred," said Willie, "to find out which were the hardest things, by rubbing
them one against another."
"Yes," said Fred, "the steel, flint, and glass rub pieces out of the wood and the lead, because they
are harder than the wood and lead."
"The steel knife made a scratch on the iron, because it is harder than iron, but it could not scratch
the glass."
"The wood and the lead rub pieces out of the chalk and cork, because they are harder than chalk
and cork."
"And the chalk and cork rub pieces out of the apple and the turnip, because they are harder than
the apple and turnip."
"Glass must be very hard," said Will. "A steel knife will not even scratch it."
"Teacher showed us that we can just manage to scratch glass with a sharp bit of flint, but we
cannot cut it with flint."
"I've seen a man cut glass," said Norah.
"Yes, dear," said Will, "but he cuts it with a diamond, and diamond is the hardest of all bodies."
SUMMARY
Diamond is the hardest of all bodies. It will cut glass. A steel knife will not even scratch glass. Steel is harder than iron; iron is
harder than lead; wood is harder than cork. The hard body will scratch a soft one.
 Lesson 08
Porous Bodies
"I wish," said Fred, "every fellow in my class had a jolly little sister, like I've got, to play
school in the evenings.
"We had a fine lesson on a sponge today. Would you like us to tell you all about it, Norah?"
"That I should," said his sister.

"Come along then," said Fred. "I've got the sponge ready. I will stand it in a saucer of water, just
as teacher did."
"Now Norah shall take it out of the saucer and put it on the table."
"What have you done with the water in the saucer, Norah? It is all gone; the saucer is empty."
"Bring me the sponge. Now squeeze it over the saucer."
"Oh, I see," said Norah. "The water all went up into the sponge."
"Yes, little girl," said Fred. "And now we will see how it got there."
"If you look at the sponge, you will find that there are little holes all over it."
"I will cut a piece of it away, and we shall see that the holes are not on the outside only, but all
through the sponge. The sponge is full of holes. Will knows the proper name for these little holes."
"Oh yes," said Willie, "teacher told us to call them pores; and as the sponge is full of pores, we
say it is porous."
"Then I suppose," said Norah, "the sponge sucks up the water because it is porous; the water
fills up the holes in it."
"Right," said Fred. "Here is a piece of bread. If I stand it in the saucer with only a little water in
the bottom, the bread will soon be wet all through."
"The bread, like the sponge, is porous," said Norah. "I can see the holes in it."
"Yes," said Willie, "but teacher showed us that some things may be porous although we cannot
see the pores."
"How did he do that?" said Norah.
"He put a piece of lump sugar and a piece of chalk into a plate, with a little red water in the
bottom," said Willie. "We couldn't see any pores in the sugar or the chalk, but we saw the red water
go up. That proves that there must be pores in them, and that sugar and chalk are both porous bodies."
"Teacher gave us a long word to think about." said Fred. "The word is absorb, and it means to
suck up."
"He says all porous bodies absorb or suck up liquids through their pores."
SUMMARY
Sponge is full of holes. These holes are called pores. Porous means full of holes. Sponge is a porous body. All things that are full
of holes are porous. Bread, chalk, lump-sugar, and salt are porous bodies.
 Lesson 09
The Dog
The boys came home one day full of delight. Teacher had been giving them a lesson on the dog.
As they had a faithful old dog of their own, the lesson pleased them very much.
"Shall we bring Ponto in, and have a chat about him?" said Fred. Of course they all said "yes,"
and a minute or two later the children were sitting on the floor with Ponto in the middle.

"Now first of all, sister, what does Ponto like best for dinner?" said Fred.
"He likes a piece of meat better than anything," said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "the dog, like the cat, is a flesh-eater."
 "Open your mouth, Ponto, and let us have a look at your teeth, old boy. Look, Norah, his teeth are
sharp and pointed. They are just like the cat's teeth. They are made for cutting through flesh, not for
chewing or grinding. The lower jaw has only one movement—up and down."
"So far the dog is very like the cat," said Norah.
"Now let us look a little farther," said Fred. "Ponto's head is not like the cat's head. It is longer
and more pointed. If you notice his eyes, you will see that they have no curtain in front, no long
narrow slit, like the cat's eyes."
"Now let us have a word about his feet. Hold up your paw, Ponto. That's right, good dog."
"If we look at all his paws, we shall see that, like the cat, he has five toes on the front and four
on the hind ones."

"Yes," cried Norah, "and the toes are padded. Does Ponto walk on his toes, too, Fred?"
"Yes, the dog walks on his toes."
"But," said his sister again, "I can hear Ponto's feet on the ground as he runs. I can't hear the cat's
feet. How is it, if both of them have pads, Fred?"
"Ah," said Fred, "if you look you will see that Ponto cannot draw back his claws as the cat does.
The claws rub the ground at every step, and make a noise."
"There is just one thing more," Fred went on. "The dog's tongue is soft, smooth, and wet, not
rough like the cat's tongue. He does not use it as the cat does."
"I am going to tell you something very funny though. The dog perspires through his tongue. The
sweat never comes out on his skin. When you see Ponto lying down in the sun, with his tongue lolling
out, you will know what it means now, Norah."
SUMMARY
The dog, like the cat, is fond of a piece of raw meat. He is a flesh-eater. His teeth are just like the cat's teeth. His jaw, too, has
only one movement—up and down. He does not chew his food. His teeth are for cutting flesh, not for chewing. The dog's eyes have no
curtain in front, and the pupil is never a long, narrow slit. He walks on his toes, and his toes are padded. He cannot draw his claws back.
He makes a noise when he walks. His tongue is not rough, like the cat's tongue. The dog perspires through his tongue.
 Lesson 10
Dogs
"I say, boys," said Norah, "what should we do without our dear, faithful, old Ponto? He is such a
clever, loving, sensible old fellow."
"Well, I couldn't do without him," said Fred. "Teacher says that the dog is the very best friend
man has among the animals, and I'm sure of it."

"There are many kinds of dogs. First there are the Hounds. These are the best runners. They are
all used in hunting."
"The Greyhound is the swiftest of all. It has a long, slender body and legs. It is used for hunting
the hare. It chases its prey by sight."
"The Stag-hound is the largest and strongest of the hounds. It has a rough shaggy coat. They use it
for hunting the stag."
"Then," Norah joined in, "I have heard of Foxhounds for hunting the fox; and there are
Bloodhounds and Deer-hounds."
 "Those that you speak of," said Fred, "have a strong sense of smell. They chase their prey by the
scent."
"The Spaniels are grand dogs too. Here is a picture of one of them. I found it on this paper about
dog biscuits. Look at the fine big head, and the long shaggy coat. It is a Saint Bernard dog. In some
lands these grand dogs are used to find people, who have been buried in the snow."
"The other one is the Newfoundland dog, a noble fellow, that saves people from drowning."

The Bulldogs are mostly kept as watchdogs, to take care of the house at night. The biggest and
strongest of them is the Mastiff.
 "The Sheepdog is the most clever and sensible of all. This dog helps the shepherd to take care of
his sheep."

SUMMARY
The dog is man's best friend. He is a clever, loving, useful animal.
The hounds are swift runners. They are used for hunting.
There are greyhounds, staghounds, foxhounds, bloodhounds, and deerhounds.
The Saint Bernard dog is a strong, noble fellow. He finds people who have been lost and buried in the snow.
The Newfoundland dog is also a grand fellow. He swims well, and saves people from drowning.
The bulldog and the mastiff are watchdogs. The sheepdog takes care of his master's sheep.
 Lesson 11
A Piece of Clay
"Will and I have had a rare run since we left school," said Fred. "We had a lesson on a piece of
clay today, and we wanted to find some clay for ourselves. Well, we came at last upon some men
digging, and we got some clay from them. Here it is. Now we will settle down for our chat.
"I told you," Fred began, "that the men were digging this clay out of the ground. Teacher gave us
a name for the clay, because it is dug out of the ground. Clay is a mineral."
"Will has a piece of dry clay. My piece is moist; it was only just now dug up. We will look at
Will's piece first. You can tell Norah all about it, Will."
Will put his piece of dry clay into a saucer, with a little water in the bottom. When he asked
Norah to take the clay out of the saucer, the water was all gone.
"Oh, I know." said Norah. "The dry clay is just like the sponge; it sucks up, or absorbs the water.
It must be porous."
"Dry clay is porous," said Will, looking pleased, "and it absorbs water through its pores."
Fred now put his piece of clay in the saucer of water, but after waiting some time, they saw that
none of the water was gone out of the saucer. He poured some more water on the clay, but it only
rolled off into the saucer.
"This is very funny," said Norah. "Isn't the moist clay porous too?"
"No, sister, moist clay is not porous; it does not absorb water," said Fred.
"Now look, Norah," added Fred, "and I will show you something else about this moist clay.
Watch me while I work it up in my hands. I can make all sorts of things with it. This would do for a
saucer; now let us break up the saucer, and mould or shape the clay into a little basin. See, it is done."
"Teacher says that things, which can be molded into all sorts of shapes like this, are said to be
pliable," added Fred. "Don't forget this word, Norah."
"I suppose," said Norah, in reply, "the dough with which mother made the meat pie today is
pliable, for I saw her work it up in her hands."
SUMMARY
Clay is a mineral; it is dug out of the ground. Dry clay is porous; it absorbs water. Moist clay is not porous; it will not absorb water.
Moist clay is pliable. We can mold it into any shape we please.
 Lesson 12
Clay—Its Uses Ⅰ
"I never knew till today," said Fred, "what a useful thing clay is. It is useful because it is
pliable."

"You know we made a saucer and a basin with our pieces of clay?"
"Yes," said Norah, "here they are. I put them on the shelf."
"Do you know," he said again, "that all our saucers and basins, and cups and jugs, and plates and
dishes, are made of clay too?
"Yes, and so are the bricks and tiles and chimney-pots for building our houses, the drainpipes for
taking away waste, and the flowerpots for our gardens."

"All these things are made of clay. Clay is earth. This is why we sometimes call the things
earthenware."
 "What a useful substance clay is," said Norah. "I suppose all these things are molded into the
right shape while the clay is moist and pliable. But how are they made hard, like this plate?"
"They have to be baked in very hot ovens." said Fred. "Bricks, after they are molded, are piled
in a great heap, and a big fire is made in the middle of them. This fire is kept burning for weeks.
When the baking is over, the things are hard and firm, and will always keep their shape."
"If we drop the cups and saucers on the floor they break into pieces. They are brittle as well as
hard. The moist clay was not brittle, for we could throw it down, or even strike it with a hammer,
without breaking it."
"Did the baking make it brittle, Fred?"
"Yes, it did," said Fred, "and it did something more. The moist clay was pliable. But could I
mold this piece of flowerpot into any other shape?"
"No," said Norah.
Willie, who had been very quiet for some time, joined in now and said, "Don't forget, Norah,
that the clay, after it is baked, will never be pliable again."
SUMMARY
Cups and saucers, plates and dishes, basins and jugs are made of clay; and so are bricks, tiles, chimneypots, and flowerpots. We
call these things earthenware. While the clay is moist and pliable, the men mold it into the proper shape for all these things, and then bake
them in hot ovens till they are hard.
 Lesson 13
Clay—Its Uses Ⅱ
The children were called away before they could finish their chat about clay. They had to leave
it till some other time.
The next evening Fred began by making a little rough basin with his piece of clay, just as he had
seen teacher do. He then filled the little basin with water.
"I know what that is for." said Norah. "You want to prove that the moist clay is not porous."
Fred then put a piece of dry brick into a basin, and filled the basin with water to the brim. They
waited for a minute or two and then he said, "Look, Norah, some of the water has gone. What has
become of it? It has not been spilt on the floor."
"I suppose it has gone into the brick," said Norah.
"That's right," said Will. "Now what does this show?"
"If the brick has sucked up the water, it must be porous." said Norah.
"So it is," said Fred. "The baking made the clay porous."
"Now listen," he added. "We want our bricks to be porous, so that any water that gets into them
may drain out. But our cups and saucers, jugs and basins, and most of our earthenware things have to
hold water. They must not be porous, or the water would run away."
"But you told me they were all porous after they had been baked." said Norah.
"Don't you be in a hurry, little sister," said Fred. "Here is a flowerpot, and here is a teacup. The
teacup was as rough as the flowerpot at first, but it is smooth and shiny like glass now. We say it is
glazed. This glaze is not porous, and liquids will not pass through it. After the cup is baked it is
dipped into the glazing mixture and baked again. When it comes out of the oven this time it is smooth,
shiny, and not porous, just as you see it now."
"What clever boys you are," said Norah. "You are very good to tell me all these fine things."
SUMMARY
Vessels made of baked clay are porous. Bricks and flowerpots are porous. Cups and saucers, plates and dishes, basins and jugs
are glazed, to make them smooth and shiny like glass. After this they are not porous.
 Lesson 14
The Cat's Big Cousins—The Lion
One morning after breakfast Fred's father said, "I've heard you children talking about the cat and
the dog. Would you like to go with me to the Zoo, to see some of the cat's big cousins, and some wild
savage dogs?"

The children could not speak, but they clapped their hands and shouted with glee. As soon as
they were ready, off they started. When they reached the place, father led straight to the great cage
where the lions were kept.
There were two of them in the cage—the lion and his wife, the lioness.
What strange feelings the children had, when they looked for the first time on these great fierce
cats!
It was a bright sunny day, and the first thing Fred took notice of was the lion's eye.
"Look, father," said he, "the pupil of his eye is just the same long narrow slit as we saw in the
cat's eye."
"Yes," said his father, "but if you could see it at night it would be wide open. It would look like a
ball of fire."
"What a grand noble head he has!" said Willie.
"Yes," said his father, "the great shaggy mane gives him that noble look."
It was the time for feeding the animals, and the children saw the men coming along with the food
in a wheelbarrow. The lions saw him too, and they began to lash their tails and growl. At first it was
a low grumbling sound, but it got louder and louder. It ended at last in a roar that made the children
cling closer to their father.
"What a mouth he has got!" said Fred, "and just the same long, sharp, cruel teeth as the cat, only
so much bigger."

The men came, and threw in for each animal a great joint of meat, enough to feed a small family
for a week. With a savage growl the lions sprang at the meat. The children could see their strong
curved claws, as they tore the meat to pieces.
"Just think," said the father, "of these fierce animals in the lands where they are found wild. They
live in the forests, and prey upon animals as large as the horse and cow. Sometimes they spring upon
a man and carry him off in their strong claws. They sleep in their dens or holes all day long, and at
night come out to prowl through the forests for their prey. One spring, and one blow from that great
paw, is enough to fell an ox."
SUMMARY
The lion is a great, fierce cat. His mouth, teeth, eyes, whiskers, and paws are just like those of the cat, but more larger and
stronger. He roars like distant thunder. He lives wild in the forests of some lands. He sleeps all day in his den, and comes out in the
evening to catch his prey. Like the cat, he can see well when there is very little light. He kills and eats animals as big as the horse and the
cow.
 Lesson 15
The Cat's Big Cousins—The Tiger
"Come along, children," said father. "There are more of these big cats to see yet." He led them to
another very large cage, where there were quite a dozen great animals. They looked just like great
cats. The children at once thought of Tabby at home."

"These are tigers," said the father. "How savage that one looks, Fred! He would like to get hold
of you."
"They have the same eyes as the lion and the cat for seeing in the dark," said Fred. "Look too at
that great fellow with his mouth open. There are the same great teeth in front. They would quickly tear
you to pieces, if he once got hold of you."
"Just look at his great paws too, father," said Norah. "Has he got the same sharp claws?"
"Yes." said her father, "if you look at that fellow in the corner, growling over his meat, you can
see them."
"The lion and the tiger, you see, are both very very much bigger than the biggest Saint Bernard
dog you ever saw. The tiger's body is longer than the lion's body, but he does not stand quite so high.
They both lash their long tails when they are angry."
"What a fine striped coat the tiger has," said Norah, "and how smooth and glossy it is!"
"Yes," said her brother, "but the lion's coat is not smooth and not striped. He is covered with
rough tawny yellow hair."
"After all," he added, "that grand mane makes him look a more noble fellow than the tiger."
"Think of them," said the father, "in their native forests. They are a terror both to men and beasts.
The lion kills his victim only when he is hungry. The tiger seems to delight in blood. He kills only for
the sake of killing."
Before they went away their father took them to see the leopard, the panther, the puma, and some
other great cats. The children were much struck with the handsome spotted coat of the leopard.
SUMMARY
The tiger is another great, fierce cat. He has a fine, striped, glossy coat. He is even more cruel than the lion. He is a terror to all
the animals of the forests in which he lives.
The leopard, the panther, and the puma are other great savage cats. The leopard has a handsome, spotted coat.
 Lesson 16
Wolves and Foxes
"I think we will go now and see some of the savage cousins of our dear old Ponto," said father.
He took them first to the wolf's cage. The children could see at once that the wolf is really a
wild, fierce sort of dog. "Look at him," said father. "He has the same pointed head, the same wide
mouth, the same long sharp pointed teeth as the dog. He is in every way like the dog, but the dog is
tame and gentle, while he is savage and wild."

"There is a cruel snarling look about his mouth that I don't like," said Fred. "How he shows his
teeth too. Yes, he looks very savage."
"Wolves live together," said father, "in large numbers. They hunt their prey in a pack—a great
many all together. They are cowards, although they are so fierce and strong."
"They hunt their victim by chasing it and running it down. They have a very sharp sense of smell.
They can scent their prey a long way off."
"I am glad there are no wolves in our country," said Fred.
"Come along now, children," said father, "I've another fierce wild dog to show you. Here he is;
we call him a Fox.
"You see he is very like a dog. What a fine bushy tail he has!"
"I have heard of foxes in the country," said Fred.
"Oh yes," said his father, "we have plenty of foxes. They live in holes in the ground—not a great
many together, but only Mr. and Mrs. Fox and their little ones."
 "Mr. Fox goes out when night comes, and prowls around the farmyard, and the hen roost, to see
what he can get."
"Oh yes," said Willie, "I saw a picture the other day of a fox running away, with a fine big goose
in his mouth; I suppose he was taking it home for supper."
SUMMARY
The wolf is one of the dog's savage cousins. He is in every way like the dog, except that he is fierce and cruel. Wolves chase their
prey in packs—a great many all together.
The fox is also a wild cousin of the dog. He lives in a hole in the ground. He catches and kills rabbits, fowls, ducks, and geese, and
takes them home to his den to devour them.
 Lesson 17
A Piece of Putty
One day when the boys came home from school they found a man at work putting some new
panes of glass in the window.
"Oh, this is luck," said Fred, "I'll ask him for a piece of his putty, and then we can have a chat
about it."
"Did you see the man rolling the putty about in his hands, Norah?" he asked, as soon as they sat
down.
"Yes," said Norah, "and I knew at once that putty must be a pliable substance."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now I will show you some of the things we have learned about putty
to-day. Look, I will make it into a little cup, and then fill it with water, just as teacher did."
The children watched it for some time, and then Willie said, "I am sure Norah can tell us all
about it now."
"Yes," said Norah, "the water stands in the cup, as it stood in the cup of moist clay. The putty is
not porous—water will not pass through it."
"Quite right," said Will. "Teacher told us to say that putty is waterproof."
"Now let me have a turn," said Fred. "But what a mess our hands are in. How this putty sticks to
our fingers."
"I say, Fred," said Will, "do you think Norah can tell us why the workman was glad to have
sticky putty? We know, don't we?"
"Why, I suppose it is because he wants it to stick fast to the wood of the windowframe." said
Norah.
"That's my clever little sister once more." said Fred.
"Now, Norah," he went on, "we have been molding and working up the putty, because it is soft
and pliable. But try and work up this piece."
"I cannot press it," said Norah. "It seems as hard as a stone."
"Yes," said Fred, "and so will this piece be if we leave it for a few days. Now let us see why
putty is so useful."
"It is soft, pliable, and sticky when we use it; it soon becomes almost as hard as stone. It is
water-proof, and will not let the rain come in."
SUMMARY
Putty is a pliable substance. It is not porous. It is waterproof. New putty is soft, sticky, and pliable. When it dries it becomes
almost as hard as stone. It holds the pane of glass firmly in the window. The rain cannot come in, because putty is waterproof.
 Lesson 18
Putty—What it is
"The other day," said Fred, "we had a chat about putty, and we found out why it is so useful."
"Teacher has been telling us today what putty is. Would you like to hear all about it, Norah?"
"Oh yes, please." said Norah.
"Well then," said Fred, "think of the two plastic substances, clay and putty. Clay, you know, is
dug out of the earth. It is a mineral. But we don't dig putty out of the ground."
"It is made of two substances—whiting and linseed oil."
"You know what whiting is. You have seen mother use it to clean the pots and pans. It is only
chalk. But can you tell me how we get chalk?"
"I suppose it is dug out of the ground, like clay and stone and sand," said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred. "It is a mineral. Teacher showed us a piece of chalk, just as it was dug
up, but it was mixed with bits of stone and dirt. To make whiting, we must get rid of all this. The
chalk is broken up in little pieces, and put into water. When the water is stirred, it looks just like
milk. This milky-looking water is poured through a sieve, and all the dirt and stones are kept back.
The chalk or whiting sinks to the bottom, and is dried after the water is poured off."
"Here is some linseed oil. Father gave it to me. This oil is made from linseed—the seed of the
flax plant. You know we get linen from the flax plant."
"Pour a drop into your hand. It feels sticky. It is the oil, you see, that makes the putty sticky."
"If I drop a little of the oil on this sheet of paper, it will dry very quickly; and water will run off
the oily paper, but will not go through it, because the oil makes the paper waterproof."
"It is the linseed oil that makes the whiting into pliable, sticky, waterproof putty, and causes it to
dry and harden quickly."
SUMMARY
Putty is made of whiting and linseed oil. Whiting is made from chalk, and chalk is dug out of the ground; it is a mineral. Linseed oil
is made from linseed, the seed of the flax plant. Linseed oil makes the putty sticky, pliable, and waterproof.
 Lesson 19
Gutta-Percha
"What a silly little girl you are, Norah," said Fred one evening. "You should not put your feet on
the fender, so close to the fire." Her father had put gutta-percha soles on her boots a few days before,
to keep her feet dry in the winter.
Now the boys had just had a lesson on gutta-percha at school. Fred thought this would be a good
time to let Norah hear something about it.
"Wait a minute," he said. "I know where I can find some gutta-percha. Father left it when he
mended your boots."
Fred was soon back with the piece of gutta-percha. He brought with him, too, a basin of hot
water.
He put the piece of gutta-percha into the boiling water, and after a few minutes took it out again,
just as he had seen teacher do in school.
"Now," said he, "take hold of the gutta-percha. Squeeze it in your hand. What have you found
out?"
Norah was full of delight. "Why," she cried out, "the gutta-percha is soft and pliable now."
"Yes, it is," said Fred, "I will mold it into a little cup, just as teacher did this morning."
"What was it that made the clay pliable?"
"Water," said Norah.
"What makes putty pliable?"
"The linseed oil."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now we have got a new substance—gutta-percha, that is made pliable
by heat."
"And now," added Willie, "Norah knows why she must not put her boots, with gutta-percha
soles, near the fire. The soles would get soft with the heat of the fire, and break away."
"Let us look," said Fred, "at our little cup. See, it is cold, and quite hard once more. It is not
pliable now."
"Look again, while I fill the cup with water. None of the water runs through. Gutta-percha is
water-proof."
"Yes," said Will, "that is why it is so useful for boots. It keeps our feet dry."
SUMMARY
Gutta-percha is a pliable substance. It becomes soft and pliable with heat. When it gets cold it becomes hard again. It makes good
soles for our boots, because it is waterproof.
 Lesson 20
A Piece of Salt
"Fred, you might let me be teacher to-night," said Willie. "I want to talk about salt."
"All right, mate," said Fred, "and I'll go and ask mother for a lump of salt."
Fred was soon back with the things that were wanted.
"Now, Norah," said Will, "I want you to put a piece of the salt in the water. That's right. Now
stir the water."
"Where is the salt? Can you see it?"
"No," said Norah, "I cannot see it, but I am sure I put it in the water."
"Put another piece in and try again," said Will. "Can you see the salt now?"
"No, I cannot see it now," said Norah. "What has become of it? Has it melted, Willie?"
"Ah," said Will, with a knowing smile, "I thought you would ask that. Now just tell me what you
saw, when I put the piece of wax in the spoon, and held it over the fire."
"The solid wax became liquid, and flowed about in the spoon," said Norah.
"Quite right," said both boys, "that is just what we mean by melting. The solid wax melts when it
becomes liquid. We can see it when it is melted. But we cannot see the salt in the water. The salt is
not melted."
"Teacher says the water loosens and breaks up the salt into tiny pieces, so small that they cannot
be seen," said Fred.
"You must try to keep in your mind the word, which teacher gave us for this. We say that we
dissolve salt in water, because the salt loosens and breaks up in the water, so that we cannot see it.
Teacher says to dissolve means to loosen or break up. Don't forget that we can dissolve salt, sugar,
soda, alum, and lime."
"But," added Will, "we can't dissolve everything, Norah. We can't dissolve stones, chalk, iron,
glass, or wood."
SUMMARY
When we put salt into water it breaks up into such little pieces that we cannot see them. We dissolve the salt in the water. It does
not melt. We can also dissolve sugar, soda, alum, and lime in water. But we can't dissolve stones, chalk, iron, or wood.
 Lesson 21
The Sheep
"Come into the field," said Fred, "and let us watch the sheep feeding. But you must not go too
near them, for they are very timid, and will run away."
"Can you tell me why the sheep has that thick woolly coat, Norah?"
"I suppose it is because it always sleeps in the open air at night. The thick coat of wool is to
keep it warm."

"Quite right. Now let us sit down here, and watch the sheep eat the grass. You see they are all
eating in the same way. They tear off one mouthful after another, and swallow it at once. They do not
wait to chew it. They will not leave off till they have eaten as much as they want. Then they will lie
down on the ground very quiet and still."
"Some of them seem to have had enough already," said Norah, "for they are lying down over
there. But they all look as if they were chewing now, Fred."
 "So they are," said Fred. "I will tell you all about it. First of all, then, I must tell you that the
sheep has no teeth at all in the front of its top jaw. It has a thick, hard pad there instead of teeth. It
collects the grass, a mouthful at a time, with its long tongue and lips. The sharp cutting teeth in front of
the lower jaw press the grass against the pad and tear it off, and then the sheep swallows the whole of
it just as it is."
"The mouthfuls of grass pass down into a big bag, which we call the paunch. All the time the
sheep is lying down, it is bringing up the grass into its mouth again to chew it. When it is chewed the
sheep swallows it again, but it goes down now into another stomach."
"We say the sheep chews the cud, for the grass is brought up in little balls or cuds to be
chewed."
"Look at the sheep's feet now," said Will. "They have four toes: two large ones in front, and two
little ones behind. The sheep walks on the two front toes. Each toe has a hard horny case over it. We
call the sheep's foot a hoof, and because it is split in two, we call it a cloven hoof."

SUMMARY
The sheep chews the cud. It has no teeth in the front of its top jaw; it has only a pad there. It has great teeth for chewing or
grinding, and the jaw moves from side to side, as well as up and down. The sheep tears off and swallows each mouthful of grass without
chewing it, then brings it all back into its mouth to be chewed, and at last swallows it again. The sheep has a cloven hoof. Its foot has
four toes, but it walks only on the two front ones. It has a thick coat of wool.
 Lesson 22
Salt
The boys came running home a day or two later, as fast as their legs would carry them.
"Oh, Norah," they both shouted, as soon as they got their breath, "we've got something fine to
show you tonight."
"I'll go and see what I can find," said Fred.
After tea Fred said, "Now, I'm teacher tonight, so sit down in your places."
"I've got some salt and a tumbler of water, just as we had the other night," he began. "Now we
will put the salt into the water and stir it up."
"What happens to the salt, Norah?"
"The salt dissolves in the water." said his sister. "It is there, but we cannot see it."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Teacher says we can call this salt water brine. Brine means salt
water."
"Now, little girl," he went on, "suppose I told you that you must get the salt out of the water. That
would be a puzzle for you, wouldn't it?" Norah looked puzzled."
"See me do it, then," said clever Fred. He had found an old tin lid. He filled this with the brine,
and stood it over the fire. Soon the water began to boil, and a cloud of steam rose from it.
They watched it for a long time, till all the water had boiled away.
"There," cried both boys with a shout and a laugh, "that's just what teacher did. We'll soon get
the salt back now."
"Give me a bit of rag," added Fred, "so that I can lift the lid off the fire without burning my
fingers. There, now we will let it get cold."
As soon as it was cold enough to handle, Fred showed them that there was something left behind
in the tin.
"See," said he, "I will scrape it up in a little heap."
"Now dip your finger into it, Norah, and taste it." Norah did so, and found that it was real salt.
Fred had got the salt back by boiling the brine.
SUMMARY
Brine is salt water. The salt is in the water, but we cannot see it. If we boil the brine, the water will fly away in steam, and we can
get the salt back.
 Lesson 23
The Pig
"Father," said Fred, "will you take us to see Mr. Brown's pig? We had a lesson about the pig
today, and I want to tell Norah all about it."
They were out together for a walk, and Fred thought it would be a good chance to see the pigs.
"Here we are at last," said their father. "Now let us have a look at the pigs. How they are
grunting and squeaking. The man has just fed them."
"What hungry, greedy things they are!" said Norah.
"Let us see what they are eating," said the father. "Look into the trough, and you will see pieces
of bread, meat, bones, potatoes—waste of all kinds from the table. They eat anything that comes in
their way."

"Teacher says," added Fred, "that they like to grub in the ground for acorns, beechnuts, and roots.
Look at that fellow's broad snout. It is very hard, tough, and strong. It is meant for grubbing in the
ground."

"Yes," said Will, "and teacher told us to think about the cat, the dog, and the sheep. They are not
meant to grub in the ground with their noses. They cannot do it. They need not do it, for they do not
dig their food out of the ground."
"If we could look into the pig's mouth," said their father, "we should see that he has great
grinding teeth behind like those of the sheep, as well as sharp-pointed teeth in front like those of the
flesh-eaters."

"Yes," said Fred, "the pig lives on flesh as well as other food, because some of his teeth are
meant for tearing flesh, and others for chewing and grinding. He can move his jaw, too, from side to
side, as well as up and down."
"Now notice the eyes and ears. The eyes look small, but they are very sharp. The ears are large
and wide open. They too are very sharp. The fierce flesh-eaters want sharp eyes and ears, to help
them to catch their prey. The sheep and the pig are timid creatures. Their sharp eyes and ears are to
warn them against their enemies."
"Shall we look at the feet next?" said Willie. "The pig's foot is a cloven hoof, just like the foot of
the sheep."
"Teacher told us not to forget that most of the animals with a cloven hoof chew the cud, as the
sheep does."
"The pig does not chew the cud. He has only one stomach. He chews his food before he
swallows it, and does not bring it back into his mouth to chew it."
SUMMARY
The pig likes to grub in the ground for acorns, beechnuts, and roots. His hard, strong snout is made for grubbing—a cat could not
do it. The pig has some teeth for tearing flesh, and some for chewing or grinding. His jaw moves from side to side as well as up and
down. He will eat almost anything. He has a cloven hoof. But he does not chew the cud, like the sheep.
 Lesson 24
Rock-Salt—Table Salt
"I want to have a talk tonight," said Fred, "about the salt we use at our meals. Shall we, Norah?"
"Oh, that's just what I wanted," said his sister. "I have been looking at the lump of white salt in
the cupboard all the week. I can't make out where it came from."
"Well then," Fred went on, "teacher tells us that, deep down in the earth, there are great solid
beds of salt that stretch for many miles."
"Yes," Will joined in, "but it is not lean, white salt, like the salt we see. It looks like stone, it is
smooth and shiny, and it is brown, not white. Teacher showed us a piece of it. It is called rock-salt,
for it is like rock."
"Teacher put a piece of this rock-salt in water, and we saw it dissolve, like other salt," said
Fred. "I wonder whether Norah forgets the name for water with salt in it."
"Oh no," said his sister quickly, "we call it brine."
"Well now," said Fred, "teacher asked us to think about the rain. It falls on the ground, but what
becomes of it then?"
"Why, it soaks into the earth," said Norah, "because the earth is porous, and absorbs it."
"We are making our little girl very clever," said Fred, "but she is quite right. Isn't it jolly, Will, to
have a fine teacher? We couldn't tell Norah all these things, if he did not take a lot of trouble to make
it easy for us."
"That's what I say," said Willie.
"Now tell us, Norah," said Fred, "suppose some of this water, as it soak down into the earth,
comes to one of these beds of rock-salt. What would it do to the salt?"
"Why, I suppose it would dissolve the rock-salt, and make brine," said his sister.
"You are right," said Fred. "That is just what it does. Teacher says when men want to get this
brine, they bore a hole through the ground, till they come to the bed of salt. Then they put a long pipe
down the hole. The brine runs into the pipe, and then they pump it up."
"I think I can tell you the rest," said Norah, who was busy thinking. "They boil the brine, and the
salt is left behind."
"Yes, they do," said Fred. "They boil it in great pans as big as this room. And that is how we get
salt for the table."
SUMMARY
Rock-salt is dug out of the earth. It looks like a piece of smooth, shiny stone. Water is always soaking through the earth. Some of
this water, as it soaks through, dissolves the rock-salt, and makes brine, and then we get a brine-spring. Men pump up this brine and boil
it. The water boils away, and leaves the salt behind. This is the white salt we see on the dinner table.
 Lesson 25
A Plant
"I wonder," said Fred, "whether Norah could tell the name for those things, which we dig out of
the ground."
"Oh, you mean minerals," replied Norah, "like chalk, and clay, and salt, and stone."
"Quite right," said Fred. "But teacher showed us some things that are not minerals, although we
get them out of the ground. Think of all the pretty flowers in the beds, the carrots, turnips, beans, and
potatoes in the garden, the green grass, and the great tall trees."

"We get them all out of the ground, but they are not minerals. They live and grow in the ground.
We call them plants. We know they live, because if we treat them badly we can see them die.
Minerals lie in the ground, but they are not living things, and they do not grow. Plants are living,
growing things."
"Let us look at some plant in the garden. We shall find that one part of it is not at all like another
part. Teacher broke a stone with the hammer, and we saw that one piece of the stone is just the same
as the other. All minerals are like the stone in this. They have no distinct parts. But each part of the
plant is unlike any other part, and has its own work to do."
 "Look at this plant, and tell us, Norah, what parts of it you can see."
"I can see the part that comes out of the ground, and rises up into the air." said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "that is the stem stalk."
"Then," said Norah, "I can see the green leaves of the stalk."
"Quite right, but is there no other part?"
"Oh, I know," said Norah, "you mean the root, which we can't see, because it is in the ground."
"Don't forget then," said Fred, "that every plant must have a root, a stem, and leaves. The root
feeds the plant."

"Now come to the gate, where the sweet-peas are growing over the church," said Fred again.
"Can you see anything here that we did not see in the others?"
 "Oh yes," said Norah, "there are pretty flowers on these."
"So there are," said Fred, "and besides the flowers there are pods with seeds in them. These
plants have been growing much longer than the others."
"I see," said Norah, "as soon as they began to grow they had a root, a stem, and leaves. When
they got big, the flowers and the pods with their seeds came."
SUMMARY
Plants live and grow in the ground. Minerals are dug out of the ground, but they do not grow there, and they are not living things.
The plant has a root, stem, buds, and leaves, when it is big enough the flowers and seeds come.
 Lesson 26
Sugar
"Sugar, like salt, is a substance we can dissolve in water," said Fred. "Salt is a mineral. It comes
out of the ground. I want to tell you something about sugar tonight. But in the first place, sugar is not a
mineral.
"Take this cabbage leaf in your hand and squeeze it. What do you see?"

"My hand is wet," said Norah.

"Yes," said Fred, "it is wet because you squeezed some juice out of the leaf. All plants are full
of juice of some sort; we call it the sap."
"Teacher showed us a picture of a great plant called the sugarcane. It grows in very hot lands far
away. It has a very tall stem, but no branches; only some big broad leaves up the stem."
"This sugar-cane, like all other plants, is full of sap. When it is full grown, the sap is very
sweet."
"Oh, I see," said Norah. "Then the sugar comes from this sweet juice."
"Wait a minute," said Fred, "and you shall see."
"When the men know that the canes are ready, they cut them down and saw them into short
pieces. Then the pieces are crushed between heavy iron rollers."
"That is to squeeze out the juice, of course," said his sister.
 "Right," said Fred.
"Now, little sister," he added, "tell me what happens when we boil brine?"
"Why, the water boils away," said Norah, "and leaves the salt behind."
"Right again," said Fred. "You will see how they get the sugar into the sweet juice."
"They boil the juice in large pans. The water in the juice boils away, and the sugar is left behind.
As it cools the sugar forms into solid grains."
"You must not forget," said Willie, "that this is only raw or moist sugar. It has to be made into
white loaf sugar."
"They leave this moist sugar to drain, "added Fred, "and what do you think we call the part that
drains away from it. It is the treacle we eat on our bread."
SUMMARY
Sugar comes from the sweet juice of the sugar-cane, a great plant which grows in hot lands far away. When the canes are ripe,
they are cut down, and the sweet juice is squeezed out of them. Men boil the juice in great pans, and as the water of the juice boils away,
the sugar is left behind. The thick, brown part of the juice is treacle.
 Lesson 27
The Root of a Plant
"We had a fine lesson today on the roots of plants," said Will. "Didn't we, Fred?"
"Yes," said Fred. "Let us come into the garden, and have a talk about it. Father asked me to thin
out some of the young plants from this bed of stocks. They are growing too thickly together. If we pull
them up, we can learn something by looking at the roots."
"Shake the root clear of the soil that clings to it," he went on. "Now what does the root look like,
Norah?"

"It looks like a great many white threads or strings, hanging from the bottom of the stem," said
Norah.
"So it does," said Fred. "Teacher says that, because these roots are made up of threads, they are
called Fibrous Roots. Fibes means a thread or string."

"Now come into my own little garden. Father let me make a radish bed all for myself, and they
are growing at a jolly rate. Here, let us pull up one of them. There's a root for you, little girl. Take my
knife and cut it across."
"Why, it is quite thick and solid all through," said Norah.
"Yes," said her brother, "teacher calls them Fleshy Roots, because they are so thick and solid."
 "You know, Norah," Will joined in, "carrots and turnips and parsnips are all roots like this one."
"Teacher told us why some plants have these fleshy roots and others fibrous roots," said Fred.

"Let us go back to the young plants, that I began to thin out. Perhaps I can make it clear to you.
Father sowed the seeds for these in the spring. By and by, during the summer, they will bear sweet-
smelling flowers, and when the winter comes they will die."
"Teacher says all plants which live only one season, have fibrous roots. The carrot, turnip, and
the other plants with fleshy roots would not die in the winter. The thick fleshy root is only a store of
food to keep the plant alive, while it can get none from the soil. In the spring such plants wake up
from their winter sleep, and burst out into leaves and flowers during the next summer. They do not die
till their seeds are ripe."
SUMMARY
The root holds the plant in the ground, and feeds it. All roots are not alike. Some plants bear flowers and seeds the same year as
they are sown. They live only that one year. These have stringy or fibrous roots. Some plants do not bloom at all the first year. Their
flowers and seeds come in the second season. They have thick, fleshy roots, like the roots of the radish, carrot, turnip, and parsnip.
 Lesson 28
Loaf Sugar
"Oh, do come and tell me how they make that coarse, brown, soft sugar into the hard, white loaf
sugar." said Norah.
The children had just settled down for their evening chat, and our little girl had been thinking
about that white sugar all teatime.
"Well," said Fred, "before I tell you that, I will explain something, that teacher showed us
today."
"He had some thick flannel bags, one inside the other, and he poured into them some dirty, muddy
water. In a short time we saw the water trickle through the flannel, into a basin he held under it. But
the water that came through was clear, and not muddy.
"Why did the water drip through flannel, Norah?"
"I suppose," said Norah, "it is because the flannel is porous."
"Quite right. But why didn't mud come through too? I think I ought to tell you that," he added. "It
is because the holes are too small to let bits of mud through. The water could pass through, but not the
mud."
"Now let us think about the sugar. The coarse sugar is mixed with some lime, and put into water
to dissolve. The syrup is then poured into bags made of thick folds of woollen cloth, and left to drip
through into a vessel below. You will see now, I think, why the syrup which drips from the bags is
quite clear."
"The pores in the bags, I suppose," said Norah, "won't let the dirt pass."
"Yes," said Fred, "that's right. But, although the syrup is clear, it is still brown. It is next made to
run through a bed of small charcoal, made of burnt bones. All its brown colour goes as it passes
through the charcoal."
"The clear syrup is then put into large copper pans and boiled."
"Yes, and the rest is easy to see," said Norah. "The water boils away, and the syrup gets thicker
and thicker."
"When it is thick enough, it is poured into large molds to cool," said Fred. "It comes out of the
mold as a hard, white, solid sugar-loaf."
"Norah would like to know," added Will, "that the part which drains away from the mold is our
golden syrup."
SUMMARY
The hard, white, loaf sugar, which we use for our tea, is made from coarse, brown, moist sugar. This coarse sugar is first mixed
with lime, and then put into water to dissolve. It forms a syrup, which is made to trickle through porous bags, and then through charcoal.
This takes away its brown color and leaves it clear, after which it is boiled. As the water boils away, the syrup thickens, and it is put into
molds to cool. Some of it will not become solid; it drains away and forms Golden syrup.
 Lesson 29
The Root and its Work
"Now, Norah," said Fred, "shall we have another chat about the roots of plants? We did not
finish all I wanted to tell you last time."
"Oh yes, do." said his sister.
"Then tell me," said he, "what the root has to do for the plant."
"It has to hold the plant firmly in the soil," said Norah, "so that the winds and the rain may not
tear it up. It has, besides that, to feed the plant with food from the soil."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now I am going to try and tell you how the root feeds the plant. Come
out into the garden, and we will get some roots. Suppose I dig up this carrot."
"Now look," he went on, "at these fine, white threads all over the carrot. Teacher says they are
the root-hairs."
"Yes," said Willie, "and they have more to do than any other part of the root. They are the
feeders of the plant."
"Will is quite right," said Fred. "Every morsel of food, which the plant gets from the soil, has to
pass up through those little hairs."
"Teacher told us," he went on, "that these root-hairs are made up of a great many tiny cells or
cases, with the thinnest of thin walls. Our eyes are not sharp enough to see them now. But that is what
they really are. The thin cells act very much like a sponge. The sponge, you know, absorbs liquids.
These root-hairs do the same."
"Now just think over our chat about rock-salt. What happens when the rain sinks into the ground
and washes through the salt-beds down below?"
"Oh, I know," said Norah. "The water dissolves the salt and carries it away."
"Quite true," said Fred. "Now in the soil of our garden there is all that the plants want for food.
But it is no use to the plant, till the rain sinks in, and dissolves it. If the plants do not get water they
droop and die. They die because they are being starved. There is plenty of food for them in the soil,
but the root-hairs cannot absorb it, till the water comes to dissolve it."
SUMMARY
The root feeds the plant with food from the soil. The root-hairs are the real feeders. They are made up of a great many very small
cells, with soft, thin walls. These cells take in food, which the rain dissolves out of the soil, and pass it upward to feed the plant.
 Lesson 30
About Burning
"We are going to have a chat tonight about things that burn," said Fred.
"Father says he is not busy now, so I have asked him to come in and help us, for fear anything
might happen. Here is father. Now, Norah, go and bring me your rag-bag, with your doll's pieces. I
have a lot to show you."

Fred went and found a candle. He lighted it, stood it on the table, and spread out all the things
they had got.
"Now, children," said his father, "I think I had better do the burning, if Fred will show me what
he wants. Then you won't get into mischief."
"All right, father," said Fred. "Are you all ready? Then let us begin."
His father then held a lot of things, one by one, as Fred gave them to him, in the flame of the
candle. As they caught fire he put them out quickly.
First there were pieces of muslin, cotton-wool, silk, and cloth from Norah's rag-bag. Then a
piece of paper, some feathers, a piece of wool, and a piece of leather. Then a thin stick of wood,
some hay and straw, and a strip of whalebone. As they burned, Fred laid them aside in two heaps on
the table. Just then Fred's mother looked in.
"What are you children doing?" she cried. "I can smell something burning. I hope you are not
playing with the fire." She had not seen father there."
"All right, mother," said he, "I'm here. They shall not come to any harm."
 "Now then," said Fred, "all these things take fire, but some of them burn more fiercely than
others. I have put some in one heap, and some in another. In this lot are the silk, wool, cloth, feathers,
leather, and whalebone. Don't forget that we get all these things from animals. They all burn very
slowly."
"Show us the burning wool again, father, please. It frizzles slowly in the flame, and so would all
the others."
"In this heap are the cotton-wool, muslin, calico, paper, hay, straw, and wood. We get these
things from plants. If any one of them is put into the flame, it blazes up in an instant. All animal
substance burns slowly; those things which come from plants blaze up quickly."
"Our little Norah, with her cotton frock and apron, must keep away from the fire. Her clothes
would quickly blaze up, and then she would be burnt to death."
SUMMARY
We get hay, straw, paper, muslin, calico, and wood from plants. These, and all other things which come from plants, blaze up
quickly in the fire. Silk, cloth, wool, feathers, leather, and whale-bone come from animals. They all frizzle slowly, but do not burn well.
 Lesson 31
The Stems of Plants
"Suppose we have a chat about the stems of plants," said Fred. "The stem, you know, makes its
way upward from the ground, to get as much light an air as it can for the plant.
"The stems of plants are not all alike. Let us take the trees first."
"They live year after year. They have a hard woody stem, which we call the trunk. At the top of
the trunk are the branches. Bushes and shrubs have a great have a great many stems, but they too are
hard and woody."

"But," said Norah, "most of our plant in the garden either die down to the ground or perish
entirely in the winter. What do we call them, Fred?"
"They are called herbs," said Fred. "They have soft green stems."
"These herbs too," said Willie, "have all sorts of stems. Let us try and think of what teacher said
about them."
 "Well," said Fred, "most of them, as we can see by looking round the garden, have strong, stout,
upright stems.
"Some, like the scarlet-bean and the hop, are not strong enough to stand upright. We put tall
sticks beside them, and they twine themselves round the sticks. We call them twining stems."

"We train the sweet-peas on the trellis for support," said Willie, "but they are not twining plants.
They have little curling tendrils here and there, which cling round the trellis. The vine and
honeysuckle have tendrils too. We call these climbing plants."
 "Now come and look at these strawberry plants," said Fred. "See, as the plant grows, it sends
out slender stems along the ground. These we call runners. Each runner sends down, at the next joint,
a great many new roots. Plants of this kind we call creeping plants."
"I have one more stem to show you," he went on. "We will pull up this root of mint. See, here are
the roots. But what are these thick white cords, which run out from the root?"
"If you look, you will see buds here and there along the cords. This proves that these cords are
not roots, but stems. We never find buds on roots.
"We call stems of this kind underground stems."
SUMMARY
The stem of the plant makes its way up towards the light and air. Stems are not all alike. Trees and shrubs have hard, woody
stems; herbs have soft green stems. Some stems are very slender and weak. There are twining stems, climbing stems, creeping stems,
and underground stems.
 Lesson 32
Coal Ⅰ
"I have been thinking over our chat about things that burn," said Norah. "Why, Fred, we left out
coal, and we all know coal is a good thing to burn. We use it to make our fires."
"Yes, sister," said Fred. "We use coal for fuel, to make our fires. But teacher says there is so
much to learn about coal, that we must take it by itself."
"Go and get a piece of coal, Willie. We will find out all we can about it."
"Now, Norah," he went on, "take the coal in your hand. What can you learn by looking at it?"
"It is black and shiny," said Norah. "It looks like a lump of smooth, shiny hard, black stone."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now hit the coal with this hammer, and you will see that it easily
breaks up into pieces."
"So it does." said his sister. "It is brittle, as well as hard."
"Now look at your hands, you dirty girl."
"Oh dear," said Norah, "the dirty coal has made me quite black. The black comes off on my
hands."
Fred next took the piece of coal up with the tongs, and held it in the flame of the fire. It soon
caught fire, and burst out in a bright flame.
"That's just what I meant, Fred," said Norah. "Coal is one of the best things to burn. It burns till it
is all gone. It gives out great heat while it burns."
"Yes," said Fred, "that is why we use it for fuel."
"I should like to know where we get coal from," said Norah.
"Well then," said Fred, "I'll soon tell you. Coal is a mineral, like stone, chalk, marble, rock-salt,
clay, sand, and gravel. It is dug out of the ground."
"Men dig great deep holes in the ground to get the coal," he added. "We call the holes mines. The
men who dig the mines are called miners."
SUMMARY
Coal is dug out of the ground, like stone, clay, chalk, and rock-salt. We call it a mineral; the great deep hole in the earth, where the
men dig it up, is a mine; the men who dig it are miners. We use coal for fuel, because it burns well, and gives out great heat.
 Lesson 33
Coal Ⅱ
"You know," said Fred, "that coal is mineral; it is dug out of deep mines."
"Yes," said Norah, "so are clay, and stone, and sand, and iron, and rock-salt."
"But," said Fred, "these things We always in the ground. Coal was not always in the ground.
Teacher has been telling us fine stories of a time when the coal-beds were great forests of trees."
"Yes," Willie joined in, "and he showed us some pieces of coal, with the shape leaves and ferns
on them."
"The forests some time or other sank down and got buried, and now they are changed into coal,"
added Fred.
"How strange!" said his sister, "And is it all true?"
"Yes, teacher says it is quite true."
"Would you like to see something very funny?" Fred went on.
"That I should," said his sister.

"Then watch me," he said.

He brought out, in a very sly way, one of his father's clay pipes, with a long stem. He had filled
the bowl with small dusty coal, and closed it up with clay, just as he had seen teacher do.
He put the bowl of the pipe into the middle of the bright red fire.
"Now, little girl," said he, "just watch."
In a little while they saw some puffs of yellow smoke come out at the end of the stem. The bowl
too got red-hot. Then the pipe left off smoking.
"Now, Norah," said Fred, "watch again."
 He put a light to the end of the pipe. A bright yellow flame burst out in a moment, and Norah
gave quite a start.
"Whatever is that?" she said.
"Ah," said her brother, "we knew we should give you a surprise."
"That is gas burning at the mouth of the pipe—the very gas that burns in our streets, and shops,
and houses."
Norah had another surprise when the pipe was taken out of the fire. After it had got cool, Fred
broke the bowl, and showed her that it was full of coke.
SUMMARY
Coal was not always in the ground, as it is now. It has been formed from the remains of great forests, which once grew on the
earth. The trees, long, long ago, sank down and got buried and changed into coal.
Coal gives us gas to light our streets, and shops, and houses; and coke to burn in our fires.
 Lesson 34
Leaves
"You would have liked our lesson today about leaves, Norah." said Will.
"Wouldn't she, Fred?"
"Yes," said Fred, "and I think we'll go out into the garden, and pick a few leaves for ourselves,
and have the lesson all over again."
They were soon seated, with the leaves before them, and Fred began:—

"Suppose we start with this one. It is a leaf of the lime tree at the bottom of the garden. Look,
Norah, there are two parts to the leaf. This thin flat broad part is the blade. The long stalk which
connects it to the branch is the footstalk. Look at all the leaves you have in your lap. Tell us which is
the blade, and which is the footstalk of each."
"Now look again," said Willie. "One side of the leaf is smoother than the other. The smooth side
always points upwards to the sky. The underside is the rough one."
 "Let me point out something else," said Fred. "Look at the under side of the leaf. You will see
some thick stout lines crossing the blade. They start from the stalk, and run to the edge of the blade.
We call these the ribs. They are to support the blade, and keep it stretched out to the light and air."
"But," said Norah, "I can see a great many other lines all over the blade. They are not so thick
and strong, but they run allover it, and cross each other like a network. Are these ribs too, Fred?"

"No," said Fred, "we call them the veins of the leaves. Nearly all the leaves you have in your lap
have veins, which cross each other and form a network. Teacher tells us to call them net-vein leaves."
"Now look at this lily leaf. Hold it up to the light. Do you see veins crossing each other in this
leaf?"
"I can see the veins," said Norah, "but they run side by side, from one end of the leaf to the
other."
"Teacher says," added Fred, "that leaves of this kind have parallel veins, and this means that the
veins run side by side, as you told me, Norah."
SUMMARY
A leaf consists of a blade and a footstalk. In most leaves ribs stretch across the blade, and veins spread over it in every direction.
We call these net-veined leaves. In some leaves the veins run side by side. These are called parallel veined leaves.
 Lesson 35
Coal—The Mine
"Can you tell me, Fred," asked his sister a few days after, "how the men get the coal out of the
mines in the ground?"
"I'll try," said Fred. "That's just what our lesson was about this morning."
"First of all," he began, "teacher told us that coal can't be dug up anywhere. The right name for a
place where coal can be got is a coalfield. In the ground under the coal-field there is coal."
"Yes," said Willie, "but coal, like all other minerals, is always found in beds or layers. These
beds are often many hundreds of feet down in the earth."
"The mine has to be dug right down into the coal-bed," said Fred. "At first it is only a deep wide
pit, going down, down, through all the beds that lie above the coal. This pit is called the shaft."
"When the men get to the coal-bed, they don't dig down any more. They begin to dig sideways
through the coal itself. They dig out great wide roads, through nothing but coal."
"But how do the men get down?" asked Norah. "What do they do with all that they dig out? They
must dig up a lot of things before they reach the coal."
"I thought you would ask that, Norah," said Fred. "I will tell you. The men put up a big engine at
the top of the shaft. Then they make a great box, which they call a cage. It is big enough to hold a
dozen men. The cage is held by very strong chains, and the engine lets it down and draws it up again."
"I see," said his sister. "Sometimes it takes the men up and down. Sometimes it brings up the
earth, and stones, and other things, they dig out. At last it brings up the coal."
"Quite right, little girl," said both the boys.
"Now think," added Fred, "about the mine itself. As the men dig along their great main roads,
they branch off from time to time. They cut out streets and lanes on all sides. It looks like a town
under the ground."
"Oh," said Norah, with a shudder. "What a dark, ugly place!"
SUMMARY
Coal is found in beds or layers hundreds of feet deep in the earth. The shaft of the mine is the great pit, which stretches down to
the coal-bed. The miners go up and down the shaft in great cages. At the bottom of the shaft they dig out wide roads and streets in the
solid coal.
 Lesson 36
The Mine and the Miners
"I am glad," said Willie," you were not with us in school today, Norah. Oh, we had such a fright
for a minute."

"What was it?" asked Norah.

"Oh, nothing," said Fred. "It was jolly fun. You know we made some gas the other night in
father's old pipe? Well, teacher had some of this same coal-gas in a bottle. All of a sudden he pulled
the cork out of the bottle and put a light near it. My stars, Norah, there was a bang. It made all the
boys jump. But it was fine fun after all."
"Why did he do it?" asked Norah.
"He told us," said Fred, "that this gas is always coming out of the coal down in the mine. If the
men down there go about with a lighted candle the gas will at once take fire and explode. Then the
mine is blown up, and perhaps hundreds of men are killed. The gas in the bottle gave us a good idea
of the way it explodes in the mine."
"But," said Willie, "I liked that picture of the mine. We saw the shaft, and the great cage hanging
by its strong chains.

"The cage was coming down full of miners. At the bottom there was a truck loaded with coal
ready to be sent up."
"Yes," said Fred, "and we saw the wide road cut through the coal, and the wagons and horses
going along."
"Horses!" said Norah.
"Yes, little girl, horses," said Fred. "I thought I should like to be one of those boys to have a
whip, and go for a ride along that funny road."
"What, all in the dark?" said Norah.
"Well, it isn't very light of course. But it isn't so dark as you think, for each wagon has to carry a
lamp. That shows a little light as they go along."

"I shouldn't like it," said Norah.

 "Well," added Fred, "in another part of the picture we saw the men at work getting the coal. They
were working hard, digging it out with pickaxe and shovel. Teacher says they are called hewers. They
hew or dig out the coal.
"As they dig it out it is thrown into trucks, and the trucks are pushed along a little railway by
boys. These boys are called putters. They put or push the trucks along."
"Teacher says it is very very hot down in the mine," said Willie. "All the workers are nearly
naked."
SUMMARY
Men, boys, and horses, all have to work very hard in that dark underground town. The men hew or dig out the coal; the boys push
it along on little trucks; the horse draw the loaded wagons to the bottom of the shaft.
 Lesson 37
More about Leaves
"We have learned some new things about leaves today, Norah," said Fred, "and I want to try and
tell you all about it. But before I begin you might think of some of the things we told you about leaves
the other evening."
"Well," said Norah, "I know that all leaves have veins running through them. In some leaves the
veins run side by side, but in most of the leaves the veins spread about in a sort of network. The veins
all come from the ribs, which stretch across the blade, and the ribs spring from the footstalk of the
leaf."
"That's very good," said Fred. "Now listen, while I tell you the most wonderful thing of all about
the leaves."
"Teacher says that the surface of the leaf blade is crowded with tiny holes or pores."
"I suppose," said Norah, "our eyes are not sharp enough to find them, for I cannot see them."
"No," said Fred, "we children can't see them, but they are there, Norah. They are breathing
pores. The leaves breathe in air through these pores."
"You know what the root-hairs do?"
"Oh yes," said Norah, "They absorb liquid food from the soil."
"Well then," said Fred, "this liquid food rises upward through the stem and branches, and along
the footstalk till it reaches the leaves. Teacher says the earth-food, which the roots absorb, is no use
to the plant till it has passed through the leaves. It flows through the footstalk, then through the ribs,
and then the veins carry it all through the leaf. While it flows through the leaf, it absorbs some of the
air, which the breathing pores take in. It is this that makes the liquid into food fit for the plant."
SUMMARY
The surface of the leaf-blade is crowded with breathing-pores. The leaves breathe in some of the air through these pores. This
makes the sap into food fit for feeding the plant.
 Lesson 38
More about the Mine
"Fred," said Norah, "I've been thinking about those dreadful mines. You say there is always
some of that bad gas coming out of the coal.
"I should think that, after a time, the mine would get full of it. How do the men manage to breathe
down there? I wonder it does not choke them."
"Teacher has made that all clear to us now," said Fred.
"Every mine has two shafts. They are a long way from each other. Only one of them is used to
send the cages up and down. There is always a great fire burning at the bottom of this. The fire makes
the air all round very hot, and, as all hot air is light, it rises and rushes up the shaft. As this air goes
up, some more air must come from somewhere to take its place. Where do you think this other air
comes from, Norah?"
"Does it rush down the second shaft, and along the coaly roads and streets?" asked Norah.
"That's just it," said Fred. "What a thoughtful little girl you are!"
"There is always plenty of fresh air, you see, rushing through the mine. The bad gas is driven out,
before it can do any harm."
"Do let me tell Norah about that grand lamp, which they use in the mine." said Willie.
"All right," said Fred, "go on."
"The lamp is only a simple oil lamp," said Will. "But the clever part of it is that the flame is shut
in all round with wire gauze. Everyman lights his lamp and locks it up before he goes down. It must
not be opened. The flame burns inside, but it cannot get out to the bad gas in the mine. This makes it
quite safe for the men. The lamp is called the Safety Lamp."
 "How clever the man must have been who thought of it!" said Norah.
"Yes, he was," said Fred. "His name was Davy, and the lamp is still called the Davy Lamp."
SUMMARY
The great mass of coal down in the mine is always giving out gas. This gas will explode if a flame comes near it. The men use the
Davy lamp, and they are quite safe, for the flame is shut in all round with wire gauze.
 Lesson 39
Flowers
"Come out into the garden," said Fred, "and let us have a chat about the flowers. Can you tell me
what is the use of the flowers, Norah?"
"They have to form seeds," said Norah. "We sow the seeds the next season, and they grow up
into new plants."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Look at all these pretty flowers on the table. They seem to be made of
leaves, but the leaves are not coarse and green, like the real leaves of the plant. They are soft and
smooth and thin. If we take them in our hands, we are almost sure to bruise them. We may call them
the flower-leaves. They are not all alike. See, there are red, white, pink, blue, yellow—all sorts of
gay colours."

"It is these flower-leaves that make our gardens look so pretty." said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "but the flower-leaves, after a time, are of no further use. They fall off."
"Let us strip off the flower-leaves from some of our flowers. That will do. Now what have we
got inside?"
"These little slender stalks that stand up in a circle are the stamens. Teacher showed them to us
this morning."
"Look, Norah," he went on, "at the top of each of them there is a little yellow knob. Teacher says
these knobs are little boxes filled with yellow dust. We call this dust pollen."
"If we touch one of them, we shall get some of the dust on our fingers."
 "Now, watch while I strip off these stamens. What have we got left?"
"There is another stalk—a big one—in the middle of the stamens." said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "this is all there is left. It is called the pistil. The seeds grow inside it, for it is
not a stalk, but a box. When the stamens are no longer wanted they drop off. But the seed-box, with its
seeds, grows bigger and bigger, till it is quite ripe."
SUMMARY
The flowers have to form the seeds from which new plants will grow. They consist of the pretty flower-leaves outside, and the
stamens and pistil inside. In the very middle of all the parts is the seed-box.
 Lesson 40
What we mean by Elastic
"Come and sit down, Norah," said Willie. "I've got something new to show you. This is a piece
of india-rubber band. Look, if I pull it I can stretch it nearly twice as long."
"Well, what of that?" said Norah. "Anybody could do that."
"Don't be in such a hurry," said Will. He let go one end, and the india-rubber sprang back. "This
is what I wanted to show you," said he. "The india-rubber will stretch when we pull it, and it will
spring back to its proper size and shape when we let go."
"Look," he added. "These pieces of cloth and flannel do the same. We say that india-rubber,
cloth, and flannel are elastic. They stretch when we pull them, and spring back when we let go."
"But teacher showed us," said Fred, "that there are other things, besides india-rubber, that spring
back and are elastic. He showed us a cane, and a stick of whalebone, and bent them to make the two
ends meet. They sprang back when he let go, because they are elastic."
"He squeezed a sponge up in his hand. It sprang back when he opened his hand, because it is
elastic."
"He forced a cork into a bottle. The cork went in, because he made it smaller by squeezing it.
When he pulled the cork out again, it sprang back to its right shape and size, because it is elastic."
"So you see, Norah, all these things—the india-rubber, flannel, cloth, cane, whalebone, sponge,
and cork—are elastic, but they are not elastic in quite the same way. One shows that it is elastic when
it is pulled, another when it is bent, and another when it is squeezed out of shape."
SUMMARY
India-rubber stretches when we pull it, and springs back when we let go. It is elastic, and so are cloth and flannel. Whale-bone
and cane bend easily, but spring back when we let go. They are elastic.
Sponge and cork can be squeezed, and made smaller, but they spring back when we let go. Sponge and cork are elastic.
科学读本（英文原版）第二册
 第二册

目录
Lesson 01 Porous Bodies
Lesson 02 Sponge—and its Uses
Lesson 03 The Sponge
Lesson 04 Filters
Lesson 05 The Poor Man's Filter
Lesson 06 Soluble
Lesson 07 Soluble Substances
Lesson 08 Starch
Lesson 09 What Starch is
Lesson 10 Starch for Food
Lesson 11 Soluble and Insoluble
Lesson 12 Soap
Lesson 13 Corn
Lesson 14 Kinds of Corn
Lesson 15 Adhesive
Lesson 16 Cements
Lesson 17 Wheat and Rice
Lesson 18 Fusible
Lesson 19 Maize
Lesson 20 About Metals
Lesson 21 Some More about Metals
Lesson 22 Iron Ore
Lesson 23 Iron
Lesson 24 The Cow
Lesson 25 Cast-Iron
Lesson 26 Milk, Butter, Cheese
Lesson 27 Wrought Iron
Lesson 28 The Horse
Lesson 29 Steel
Lesson 30 The Rabbit
Lesson 31 Copper
Lesson 32 The Rabbit at Home
Lesson 33 Lead
Lesson 34 The Monkey
Lesson 35 Tin
Lesson 36 Three Classes of Monkeys
Lesson 37 Zinc
Lesson 38 The Mole
Lesson 39 Silver
Lesson 40 Gold
返回总目录
 Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time.
—James Russell Lowell
 Lesson 01
Porous Bodies
Fred and Willie came home very proud from school one afternoon. "What do you think, Norah?"
said Fred. "We have both been put up into the next class. Teacher picked out a few of the best boys to
go up. I am so glad Will was put up with me."
"And only think, Norah," said Willie. "We shall still have our jolly object lessons. We had a
lesson this afternoon about porous bodies. Shall we tell you all about it, Norah?"
"Oh, do, please." said Norah.
"Well then," said Fred, "you must first tell us all the porous bodies you can remember."
"Oh yes," said Norah. "Sponge, bread, sugar, chalk, dry clay, charcoal, and coke are all porous.
They all suck up liquids into their pores."

"Quite right," said Fred. "Now watch me. This is a tumbler about half-full of turpentine. This
piece of cane has been standing in the tumbler a few minutes. See what happens when I put a match to
the top of the cane."
"Why, it bursts into a flame at once," said his sister. "How is that?"
"I'll show you," said Fred, "just as teacher showed us. Look at the holes in the bottom of the
cane."
"Then I suppose," said Norah, "the pores of the cane absorb the turpentine, and take it up to the
top."
"That's just it," said both the boys. "The cane is porous. "
"Now look here. Do you know what this is?" said Fred.
"It is a piece of the wick of the lamp," said Norah.
"See," said Fred, "I will dip it into this water. Now when I take it out and squeeze it, some water
runs out of it. What does that prove, Norah?"
"It proves," said she, "that the wick is porous, and that it absorbs liquids."
"Quite right," said Fred.
 "Now think of the wick in the lamp itself. The lower part of the wick is in the oil, but it is the
upper part that gives the light."
"Oh, I think I see," said Norah, "The wick must be something like the cane. I suppose it absorbs
the oil, and carries it up to the top, where it burns."
"That is right, Norah," said Willie, "And a candle burns in the same way. The heat melts the
tallow into a liquid. The wick absorbs the liquid tallow, and carries it up to the top, where it burns."
SUMMARY
Porous bodies absorb liquids. Turpentine rises through the pores of the cane and burns at the top. The wicks of the candle and the
lamp are porous. The tallow and the oil rise through the pores of the wick and burn at the top.
 Lesson 02
Sponge—and its Uses
"Oh, boys," cried Norah, as she rushed into the room, "do come with me at once. Our dear old
Ponto has cut his foot in the garden. The poor old fellow is in such pain, and it is bleeding very
badly."
"All right, Norah," said Fred. "You run and get a sponge and some warm water. Will."
In a very short time they were all round their dear old playfellow. Fred bathed the foot with the
warm water, while the others stroked him, and tried to make him forget the pain. The foot was, as
Norah had said, very badly cut.
The children bound it up with some clean linen rag, and then took him into the kitchen. There
they made him lie down in a warm corner of the room, while they sat and watched him.
"What a good quiet old fellow he was all the time we were washing his foot." said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "but I took care not to hurt him. Nothing would have done it so well as a
sponge."

"Suppose we have a talk about the sponge," said Willie, "while we sit with Ponto."
"Right," said Fred. "What is the first thing any one would notice about the sponge?"
"It is porous or full of holes," said Norah. "When it is put into water it absorbs or sucks up the
water."
"How can we get the water out again?" said Fred.
"By squeezing it," said Will. "It is a soft body, and we can squeeze it."
 "What happens when we squeeze it, and then let go?"
"It springs back to its former size and shape," said Will, "because it is elastic."
"Yes," said Fred, "and then it is ready to absorb water again.
"Because the sponge is porous and elastic, soft and smooth, it is the very best thing we can use to
wash a sore place of any kind."
"Mother always uses a sponge," said Norah, "to wash the baby. Baby's skin is very tender, and
the soft smooth sponge does not scratch it."
SUMMARY
new paragraph Sponge is useful because it is porous, elastic, soft, and smooth.
 Lesson 03
The Sponge
"Isn't it strange?" said Fred, "We were talking about the sponge last night, and today we have had
a lesson on it at school.
"I know now what a sponge is. I have often tried to think, but I could never make it out, till
teacher told us today."
"I never thought it could be an animal." said Willie.
"It is not quite right to call it an animal," said Fred. "Teacher says it is the skeleton of an animal,
that's all."
"An animal," said Norah. "Where can such an animal live?"
"It lives," said Fred, "at the bottom of the sea, and a strange life it must be. It cannot move about,
for it is fixed to the rocks by a sort of root."
"I suppose," said Norah, "as this is only the skeleton that we see, it must have some flesh on it
when it is alive?"
"Oh yes," said Fred, "but the flesh is only a sort of soft jelly. That all runs away, when it is taken
out of the water. Nothing is left but the tough, elastic, porous framework of its body."
"But," said Norah, "if it is an animal, I suppose it has a mouth; it must eat."

"Well," said her brother, "it has a great many mouths. All these little pores in the sponge are so
many mouths. Teacher says it feeds by drawing itself up, and then swelling out again. You know that
the sponge is very elastic.
"Every time it swells itself out, some water rushes in through these little pores, and with the
water the food on which the sponge lives. When it draws itself up, the water is sent out again through
the larger holes. The sponge keeps back all that it wants for food. That is not sent out with the water."
"What a strange animal!" said Norah. "How do they get the sponges, Fred?"
"Teacher told us all about it, didn't he, Fred?" said Will. "Men have to go down to the bottom of
the sea to get them. They are called sponge-divers. I'm glad I am not a sponge-diver, though."
"Oh, do tell me all about it." said Norah.
 "Well, these divers are trained to dive while they are boys. They are taken out to the place in a
boat. When they are ready, they fix a large stone to their foot and slide down to the bottom, holding a
rope in their hands.

"As soon as they get to the bottom, they cut away with a long knife as many sponges as they can.
These they put into a bag slung round their neck. They can't stay under water more than three minutes,
and then they are drawn up by the men in the boat."
"What a dreadful life it must be!" said Norah.
SUMMARY
The sponge is the skeleton of an animal, that lives on the rocks at the bottom of the sea. Its pores are its mouths. Divers go down
to the bottom of the sea to get the sponges.
 Lesson 04
Filters
"You know, Norah, when mother makes the coffee for breakfast, she pours it through a strainer."
said Fred.
"What is the strainer made of?"
"It is a sort of muslin bag." said Norah.
"Quite right. But why does she use this bag?"
"The muslin is porous. The holes, or pores, in it are only large enough to let the clear liquid run
through. The thick coffee-grounds cannot pass through them, and are left in the bag."
"Teacher had a bag made of flannel. You know flannel is porous. We can see the pores in it.
Well, he poured some muddy water in this bag, and held the bag over a basin. The pores were not
large enough to let all the solid mud pass through. That was kept back, and the water, that dripped
through into the basin, was nearly clear. Well then, he poured this into another bag made of some kind
of cloth with still smaller pores. When the water came through this it was quite clear. All the little
grains of mud, that had passed through the pores in the first bag, were kept back now. The pores in
this second bag were too small to let them pass.
"I thought at once of mother's coffee-strainer. But teacher gave us another name for these porous
bags. He calls them filters. He says when we pass a liquid through them, we filter it.
"I am going to show you a very pretty little filter now, made of blotting-paper. Teacher made
some for the lesson. He gave me these to try with at home.
"See, there are three pieces of blottingpaper, cut round, and folded across the center at right
angles. When I open them out, I can make a little funnel with them.

"Now I will stand the funnel in a tumbler, and pour into it some of this chalk and water. See, the
liquid looks thick and white like milk. Watch what happens when I pour it into the filter. Drop by
drop, the water trickles through the pores of the blotting-paper. But it is clear water now. All the little
pieces of solid chalk, that were floating in the water, are left behind in the blotting-paper. The
blotting-paper is a filter. It filters the liquid I put into it."
SUMMARY
Filters are made of porous substances. They let the clear water pass through their pores, but keep back the little pieces of solid
matter. Blotting-paper is porous; it makes a good filter.
 Lesson 05
The Poor Man's Filter
"I say, Fred," said Willie, "shall we tell Norah about the biggest filter in the world?"
"Oh yes, do, Fred." said Norah.
"Perhaps we can make Norah tell herself all about it, Will," said Fred. "You remember what a
heavy rain we had last night, Norah?"
"Oh yes," said Norah, "the water stood in great puddles in the road."
"Where are the puddles now?"
"They are all gone; the water has sunk down into the earth." said Norah.
"Why does the water sink into the earth?"
"Because the earth is porous and absorbs it," said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred. "But is all earth porous?"
"No. Clay is not porous." said his sister.
"You know we found a spring the other day when father took us for a walk?"
"Oh yes," she said, "and we had a good drink. What clear, bright, sparkling water it was, Fred."
"Ah," said he, "that clear water came from some dirty puddle of rain water, which sank into the
ground drop by drop. It kept sinking through gravel, sand, and rock, till it came to something like clay.
It could not sink through the clay, for clay is not porous. Then it had to burst its way somewhere, and
it came bubbling out of the ground as a spring."
"Now I know what you mean," said Norah. "The earth itself is a filter. It lets the clear water pass
through its pores, but holds back all the mud."
"That's quite right, Norah." said Fred.

"Now I'm going to make a filter for ourselves. It is so easy to make, and costs so little that
teacher calls it the Poor Man's Filter. Father has given me this nice clean flowerpot and all the things
I want. I will first plug up the hole in the bottom with a piece of sponge. Then I will cover this with a
layer of small charcoal an inch or two deep. Above the charcoal I will put a layer of fine sand, about
the same thickness.
"All these things—sponge, charcoal, and sand— are porous. We have a filter now, ready for use.
But as I have some charcoal and sand left, I will put two more layers in.
"Now if we pour any dirty muddy water into the top of the flowerpot, we shall see it trickle
through the bottom clear and bright."
SUMMARY
The earth is a great filter. It allows the clear spring water to trickle through its pores, but keeps back all the mud.
 Lesson 06
Soluble
"We had another lesson today," said Fred, "about things which dissolve and things which melt."
"Let me join you for a few minutes," said his father, "I have here some loaf-sugar broken up fine.
I will put some of it into this tumbler of water; the rest into this iron spoon. Fred shall stir the water in
the tumbler. I will hold the spoon over the fire. Now watch. I think we can make it all clear.
"Look," he went on, "the pieces of solid sugar in the spoon are changing into liquid sugar. We
can see it flow about in the spoon. This sugar is melted.
"Your sugar, Fred, cannot be seen in the water, although we know it is there. It is dissolved."
"Thank you, father," said the children. "That makes it very plain."
"Teacher gave us a new name for things that dissolve," said Fred. "All things that dissolve are
said to be soluble."
"Yes," said Willie, "and when we dissolve any of them, we make a solution."
"Teacher showed us the meaning of these three hard words in another way," said Fred. "I think I
know clearly now what a solution is. I will try and do it as he did it.

"Here is some chalk, crushed up into powder. I will put a spoonful of it into this glass of cold
water. Now we will stir it up well. Can you see the chalk?"
"Yes," said Norah, "the water looks thick and white like milk."
"The tiny little bits of solid chalk are floating about in the water," said Fred. "They will not
dissolve. If we stir it all night, the chalk will not dissolve.
"We cannot see the salt, sugar, and other things when they dissolve. The water looks quite clear.
It is a solution. This chalky water is as thick and white as ever. If we leave the glass to stand for a
time, all the wet solid chalk will sink to the bottom, and the water will become clear, and may be
poured off. But there will not be any chalk in it. All the chalk will be left at the bottom.
"If we dissolve a substance in water, we cannot pour away the water, and leave that substance at
the bottom."
SUMMARY
Things that dissolve are said to be soluble. When they dissolve they make a solution. If we dissolve a substance in water, we
cannot pour away the water, and leave that substance at the bottom, as we can chalk. Chalk will not dissolve in water.
 Lesson 07
Soluble Substances
"Come and help me, Will." said Fred. "I've got all ready, and I want to show Norah why some
things dissolve in water.
"I have a tumbler here, filled with water to the brim. I want you to stir it gently, while I put some
salt into it—a spoonful at a time. Are you ready? One, two, three, four, five, six. Now we must be
careful—seven. I have put seven spoonfuls of salt into the tumbler of water. But if you look you will
see some of the salt is now settling at the bottom."
"I suppose," said Norah, "the salt that sinks to the bottom is not dissolved."
"That's right," said Fred. "The rest of the salt is all dissolved; we cannot see it."
"But, Fred," said his sister, "the tumbler was full to the brim at first. If you had put seven
spoonfuls of water in, it would have run over the top. How have you been able to put seven spoonfuls
of salt in?"
"Ah," said Willie, "that's the funny part of it.
"The water is porous. As the salt dissolves it breaks up into such tiny morsels, that they can find
their way into the pores of the water. When these pores are all filled, the water can dissolve no more
salt. The rest sinks to the bottom in a heap."
"Now we'll empty this away, and do the same with some lime." said Fred.
He put in seven spoonfuls of the lime, but by the time he had done there was a great heap of wet
lime at the bottom. The water too was flowing over the top of the glass.
They waited till the water was clear. Then they poured it out into another tumbler. To make sure
there were no solid bits of lime in the water, they made it filter through blotting-paper.
"Now look," said Fred, "I am going to breathe into the water through this straw. If there is any
lime dissolved in it, the water will turn white like milk as I breathe into it.
"See, it looks quite milky already," he added. "The water has got some lime in it. All the lime
did not sink to the bottom of the tumbler. Some of it was dissolved. Water dissolves a large quantity
of salt, but only a little lime."
SUMMARY
When a substance dissolves in water, it breaks up into little morsels, which find their way into the pores of the water. The water
cannot dissolve any more after the pores are all filled.
 Lesson 08
Starch
"What is this, Norah?" asked Fred.
"It is some of the starch that mother uses to make your collars stiff." said Norah.
"Well, I want to have a chat about starch this evening." said Fred.
"Watch what happens when I put some of it into this tumbler of water."
"It sinks to the bottom, and lies there just as we put it in," said Norah.
"Wait while I stir it up well," said Fred. "Now tell us what you see."
"The water is thick and milky-looking now, as it was when we put the chalk into water." said
Norah.
"Stir it a little more," said Fred. "Perhaps we can make it clear then.
"No," he went on, "we cannot make it clear with all our stirring. What does that mean, Norah?"
"The starch will not dissolve in the water," said Norah. "It is not soluble. The little pieces of
solid starch are floating about in the water. It is this which makes the water thick like milk."
"Now, we will put some of this thick liquid into a basin, and pour boiling water on it," said
Fred. "The rest we will stand aside in the tumbler."
"Why, the boiling water seems to swell it up," said Norah, "into a jelly."
"Yes," said Will, "that's just it. The hot water breaks up the little solid bits of starch that are
floating about. Pour some more boiling water on it, Fred, while I stir it with the spoon.
"See now, Norah," he added, "the jelly has become a thin clear liquid. The starch is dissolved at
last."
"Oh, I see," said Norah;"the starch will not dissolve in cold water, but it dissolves in boiling
water."
"Now, look at the other starch in the tumbler of cold water," said Fred.
"Why, the water is quite clear now," said Norah. "Where is the starch?"
"Look at the bottom of the tumbler," cried Willie. "It has all sunk down there. If we pour off the
water, we shall leave all the starch at the bottom. None of it is in the water, because it will not
dissolve in cold water."
SUMMARY
Starch is not soluble in cold water. Like chalk, it sinks to the bottom, and we can pour the water away. We can dissolve starch in
boiling water.
 Lesson 09
What Starch is
"You remember our chat about starch, Norah?" asked Fred. "Would you like to see me make
some starch now?"
"Ah," said Norah, "I know you are a very clever brother, but I don't think you can make starch."
"Then watch me, and see," said Fred. "Look, this is some flour. I will tie it up in this piece of
muslin. All I have to do is to work it up between my fingers and thumb in this basin of water. See, the
water is getting white and milky-looking, because I am washing the starch out into it. This flour—the
flour that makes our bread—contains starch."
"Teacher made some starch from a potato," said Willie. "He says the potato contains more starch
than the flour."
"Let us have another look at the basin." said Fred.
"Why," said Norah, "the water is not white like milk now; it is quite clear. Where is the starch?"
"Look at the bottom and you will see it," said Fred. "See, I will pour off the clear water. The
thick, wet, solid stuff at the bottom is the starch."
"Teacher, you see, showed us how to get starch from flour and potatoes," said Willie, joining in.
"But he told us too that it is found in all plants. Some plants contain more starch than others. The
plants store up this starch as a supply of food for themselves."

"He told us too," said Fred, "that the starch is always in tiny grains, too small to be seen with,
the naked eye.
"We saw a picture of these grains as they would look, if our eyes were sharp enough to see them.
They are really little bags of starch.
"You remember, sister," he added, "that starch will not dissolve in cold water. It dissolves in
boiling water. The boiling water makes the little bags swell and burst. This sets free the real starch
inside the bags and it dissolves. Cold water only loosens the little bags one from another, so that they
float about. It does not burst them."
SUMMARY
The flour, from which our bread is made, contains starch, and so does the potato. We can wash the starch out of some flour in a
basin of water. The starch is in the form of tiny grains or bags, too small to be seen with the naked eye. Boiling water bursts these bags,
and so dissolves the starch.
 Lesson 10
Starch for Food
"If someone had told me a week ago," said Willie, "that we eat starch every day, it would have
sounded like a joke. But we know now that it is true, for our bread and puddings and cakes and
potatoes all contain starch."
"Teacher was talking about sago, arrowroot, and tapioca," said Fred. "He says they are almost
pure starch."
"I have seen mother make sago and tapioca puddings," said Norah. "Can you tell me anything
about them, Fred?"
"I'll try," said Fred.
"Let us think about the sago first. Mother gave me some in this saucer. Look at it. It is like little
round balls.
"Teacher says it comes from a tree called the Sago Palm, that grows in very hot lands. It is got
from the soft matter in the stem, which we call the pith.
"When the tree is fully grown, it is cut down, and the soft pith is taken out. This pith then looks
something like the inside of a dried apple. It is rather sticky, too, like gum.

"The pith is first crushed into powder, and then washed and kneaded in water. This presses all
the starch out, just as we did out of the flour in the muslin bag.
 "When the water settles, the starch is left at the bottom. It is first partly dried, and then it is
pressed through a sieve with small round holes."
"Oh, then," said Norah, "this is why we always see it in little round balls."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now let us look at the arrowroot. This too is almost pure starch. It
comes from the underground stem of a plant that grows in hot lands. It is got by breaking this stem in
pieces, and kneading it up in water, as they knead the sago pith. When dried, it forms this white
powder.
"Tapioca is just the same sort of thing. It is almost pure starch. It is got from the root of a plant.
The root must be broken up, and treated just like the sago pith and the arrowroot. The starch, that is
left at the bottom of the water, is dried on hot plates. As it dries, it is stirred about with an iron rod.
This makes it form in lumps as we see it here."
SUMMARY
Our bread, puddings, cakes, and potatoes all contain starch. Sago, arrowroot, and tapioca are nearly all starch. Sago is made from
the pith of the Sago Palm, which grows in hot lands. Arrowroot is made from the underground stem, tapioca from the root, of a plant.
 Lesson 11
Soluble and Insoluble
"I want to have another chat tonight," said Fred, "about things which we can dissolve. I suppose
Norah can name some of them?"
"Oh yes," said Norah. "We can dissolve salt, sugar, alum, lime, and soda."
"What do we say about them, because we can dissolve them?"
"We say they are soluble," said his sister.
"Suppose we dissolve salt. Can you tell me what we get?"
"We get a solution of salt. If we dissolve sugar, we get a solution of sugar."
"Teacher told us in our lesson today," said Willie, "that the water which dissolves these things is
called a solvent."
"Now you know," said Fred, "we once put some bits of flint, wood, iron, and glass into water.
Did they dissolve?"
"No," said Norah, "they did not dissolve. We cannot dissolve them. They are not soluble."
"We have found out, too," said Willie, "that chalk and starch will not dissolve. They are not
soluble. Teacher told us that the right word for this is insoluble. Insoluble means not soluble."
"I'll try and show you something now that teacher showed us today," said Fred. "Look at this
greasy oil-bottle. Suppose we wish to clean it out— to get rid of all the oil. What shall we do?"
"Wash it out with hot water," said Norah.
"Very well," said Fred, "I'll fill the bottle with hot water and shake it up. I wonder whether the
oil has gone," said he, after shaking it well. "No, it has not gone. It is still hanging to the sides of the
bottle. The oil is insoluble.
"Now I will put some pieces of soda into the water. Look what happens when I shake up the
bottle."
"Why, the oil mixes up with the water now," said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "the soda breaks up the oil into tiny drops, and dissolves it.
"Water will not dissolve oil; but soda is a solvent for oil and fats of all kinds."
SUMMARY
Flint, wood, and iron, like chalk and starch, will not dissolve in water. They are insoluble. Water is a solvent for sugar, salt, and
other things, because it dissolves them. Soda is a solvent for fat and oil.
 Lesson 12
Soap
"I didn't think," said Willie, "that greasy oil bottle and the soda could have anything to do with
soap. Did you, Fred?"
"No," said Fred, "I didn't. Suppose we have our lesson all over again now."
As soon as tea was over Fred said, "Do you remember that greasy oil-bottle, Norah?"
"Oh yes," said Norah. "The soda dissolved the oil, although the water would not dissolve it."
"Now look," said Fred; "this bottle is half-full of oil. Smell it and see that it is oil. I have got
here a strong solution of soda. What does that mean?"
"A solution of soda is some soda dissolved in water," said Norah. "I suppose you call it a strong
solution, because you have put a lot of soda in it."
"Now I will fill the bottle up with the solution," said Fred, "and well give it a good shaking. Tell
me what you see."
"The oil seems to be mixing with the Soda," said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred. "If I shake it a little more, the soda will dissolve all the oil. It will form
a new substance.
"We will stand it down for a minute or two and let it rest.
"Look at the bottle now. The watery part of the mixture is at the bottom, a new substance is
floating on the top. This is not oil, but oil dissolved in soda.
"Let us take some of it out and rub it in our hands. It is not greasy or oily now. It is soft and
smooth."
"It feels just like soap," said Norah, as she rubbed her hands.
"So it does," said Fred; "and it is soap, although it is not hard soap fit for use. It contains a great
deal of water.
"How could we get rid of the water in it, Norah?"
"I suppose," said Norah, "we should have to boil it."
"Quite right," said both the boys. "When the water boils away, the soap becomes solid. And
now, Norah, you know how soap is made."
"It is not always made of oil," added Fred. "Tallow, suet, fat, and grease of all kinds are used to
make soap."
SUMMARY
Soda dissolves tallow, suet, fat, oil, and grease of all kinds, and makes soap.
 Lesson 13
Corn
"You know, Norah, when we were talking about starch, I made some to show you," said Fred. "I
made it from some flour, and flour is made from wheat. Here are some grains of wheat. Do you know
where they come from?"
"They grew on plants in a corn field." said Norah.
"Well, now," said Fred, "we are going to have a talk about these corn plants. Teacher told us we
could understand the corn plants by looking at the stems of some tall grass. So Will and I have been
hunting about to find some grass that would do. We have found some. Suppose we have a look at it.

"We will begin with the leaves. They are long, narrow, and pointed, and not like most of the
leaves we see. We call them blades of grass. If we hold them up to the light, we see that the veins run
side by side, from one end of the leaf to the other. The veins are parallel.
"Look! There is a swelling or knot in the stem, where each leaf joins it. The leaves all spring
from these knots or joints.
"Now let us split open the stem with this knife. You see it is hollow."
"But," said Norah, "I can't see what all this has to do with the corn plants."
 "Well," said Fred, "the corn plants are just like this grass. They are grasses. We call them the
corn grasses.
"Now we know," Fred went on, "that the grass and the corn plants both have tall hollow stems
with joints in them, and long, narrow, pointed leaves. Each corn plant sends up five or six stems.
"This grass, you see, has some small green flowers at the top of the stem. When the flowers die
off, they leave the seeds behind in a long ear.
"The corn-grasses have green flowers too, and after the flowers, long ears full of seeds or
grains. Here is an ear of wheat. If we pull the ear to pieces, we shall find a great many grains of corn.
Each grain is held in a sort of shell of thin, light, but strong skin. This we call the husk. The husk
protects the grain from the sun and rain, till it is fully grown and ripe."
SUMMARY
The corn that grows in the cornfields is a grass. It has a hollow, jointed stem, and long, narrow leaves. The corn grains grow in
long ears at the top of the stem.
 Lesson 14
Kinds of Corn
"We are going to have another talk about corn this evening," said Fred. "We have picked out
some grains of corn from the chicken's food, and father has got these ears of corn for us."
"Here is the wheat. Let us take that first, as teacher did," said Willie. "This is the best of all the
corn grains for making flour for bread, biscuits, cakes, and puddings. It forms the chief part of our
food. The ears are full, and the grains themselves are round and plump."

"The ear of barley," said Fred, "is not at all like the ear of wheat. Each grain ends in a long
spike. This is called the beard of the ear. Barley is hardy and will grow where we could not grow
wheat. It does not make nice, sweet, white bread, like our wheaten bread. People never use it for
bread when they can get wheat. Nearly all the barley we grow in this country is made into malt for
beer. It is also used for feeding pigs and poultry.
"This is an ear of oats. Each grain in this ear hangs loosely by itself, with its open end
downwards towards the ground. As the grain grows the rain runs off, and does not lodge in it, or it
would rot it.
 "The flour made from oats is called oatmeal. In countries where wheat will not grow, the people
live on oatmeal cakes and porridge, instead of wheaten bread."

"There is another kind of corn called rye," said Willie. "In this country we cut down the rye
while it is green to feed cattle and sheep. Rye flour makes a very coarse, heavy bread. But the people
in some lands are glad to get even that."
SUMMARY
Wheat is the best of all the corn grains. Its ears are full and the grains plump. Wheaten bread forms the chief part of our food.
Barley has spiked ears, not like the ears of wheat. It does not make good bread. Oats hang in bunches. Oatmeal is made into cakes and
porridge. Rye-flour makes dark, coarse, heavy bread.
 Lesson 15
Adhesive
"I wish you would mend our scrap book, mother, please," said Norah. "Some of the leaves are
very loose."
So after tea mother got the gum-bottle and stuck the leaves in again, and made the book quite
neat.
"Why did mother use gum, Norah?" asked Fred. "Wouldn't water do?"
"Water is not sticky," said Norah. "It would not make the leaves stick."
"Try and remember a hard word that means the same as sticky, Norah. It is adhesive. Gum is
adhesive or sticky.
"What else could we use besides gum to stick the leaves?"
"Some paste would do as well."
"Have you ever seen any one use paste to stick paper?" Fred asked again.
"Oh, yes," said Norah. "The man used paste when he put the paper on the wall of the parlor the
other day."
"And the men who post up the bills in the streets," said Willie, "always do it with paste."
"But," said Norah, "you can stick paper with sealing wax. I have seen father melt the wax in the
flame of the candle, and drop it on the paper. When it gets hard it sticks fast to the paper."
"Now look at this postage stamp, Norah," said Fred. "How do we stick it on the letter?"
"We wet the back of the stamp," said Norah, "and press it on the paper."
"Quite right," said Fred, "and you know we stick our envelopes in the same way. The part that
we wet is covered with an adhesive substance.
"Teacher says," he added, "that this adhesive substance is known as British gum. Let us see what
it really is.
"You know what happens to starch if we put it into cold water?"
"Starch is insoluble in cold water," said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "but if dry starch is baked in an oven it becomes changed. It turns brown, and
will easily dissolve in cold water. In this form it is called British gum, the very substance on the back
of the postage stamp and the edge of the envelope.
"It is pasted on the stamps and other things with a brush, and dries very quickly. When we want
to use it, we wet it, and it will stick fast."
SUMMARY
Adhesive substances make other things stick together. We might call them sticky substances. Gum, paste, and sealing wax are
adhesive substances for sticking paper. The adhesive substance on an envelope and on the back of a postage stamp is British gum. It is
made of starch.
 Lesson 16
Cements
"Suppose we have another chat about those adhesive substances," said Fred. "What do we use to
stick paper, Norah?"
"We stick paper with gum, paste, sealing wax, and British gum," said his sister.
"Quite right," said Fred. "Teacher says we may call each of these things a cement. Cement is
only another name for an adhesive substance—a substance to make things stick together.
"I saw father use some cement of another sort last week. He used it to mend a chair. He put the
broken edges of the wood together, with some of this cement between. The chair is quite strong now.
The cement has made the broken parts stick fast."
"Why, you mean glue," said Norah. "I saw father mending the chair. Of course glue must be an
adhesive substance. It is a cement for wood."
"Those men who work with bricks and stone," said Fred, "use another sort of cement. Glue
would not do."
"I suppose you must mean mortar," said his sister.
"Quite right," said Fred. "Mortar is an adhesive substance. It is the very sort of adhesive
substance to make bricks and stone hold fast together."
"What do the men use to make their mortar, Fred?" said Norah.
"Mortar is made of lime and sharp sand mixed into a paste with water," said Fred.
 "When it dries it becomes very hard—as hard as the stone itself."
"The stone mason," added Willie, "always uses a special sort of mortar. It is made from chalk
and lime mixed with clay. He calls it cement. It is mixed up with sharp sand and then made into a
paste with water, just as the bricklayer makes his mortar. It is used where great strength is wanted. It
becomes as hard as the stone itself when it dries."
SUMMARY
Cements are adhesive substances that stick things together. Glue is a cement for wood; mortar is a cement for bricks and stone.
 Lesson 17
Wheat and Rice
"You remember our flour in the muslin bag, Norah?" asked Fred.
"Yes, you squeezed the bag of flour in the basin of water," said Norah, "and washed out all the
starch into the water."
"I am going to do it again now," said Fred. "You watch me."
After squeezing and kneading the bag for some time, Fred said, "I think I have got most of the
starch out now. Let us open the bag and look inside."
He did so, and showed his sister a thick, sticky substance left behind in the bag. "This," said he,
"is gluten. It is the most important part of the flour. It is the gluten that makes our flesh and bones, and
all the parts of our body. Wheat and oats are the best of the corn grains for food, because they contain
more gluten than the others.
"Do you know what I have in this saucer?"
"That is some rice," said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred. "Rice is another kind of grain. Teacher washed the starch out of some rice-
flour in class today, but when he opened the bag there was nothing left inside. The rice-flour is pure
starch. It contains no gluten. Rice-flour would not be fit for bread."
"Where does rice grow, Fred?" asked Norah.
"It grows in the very hot parts of the world. It grows best in places where the soil is wet, and the
air always hot and moist. It would not grow here."
"It is a grass, just like the other corn plants," said Willie, "with tall, hollow, jointed stems, and
long pointed leaves or blades."
"Teacher says," added Fred, "that after the seeds are sown in the rice-field, the men flood the
whole field with water for several days. When the water is drained off, the little plants can be seen
pushing their way up through the soft wet mud. "The hot sun soon begins to dry the fields, and then the
men let in the water again and again, to cover them while the plants grow."
 "What a strange sight a rice-field must be!" said Norah.
SUMMARY
Wheaten-flour contains gluten; rice-flour contains no gluten—only starch. Gluten is the best part of the flour; it makes our flesh
and bones. Rice-flour would not be fit for bread.
Rice, like wheat, is a grass, with tall hollow stems, and long pointed leaves. It grows in very hot moist lands. It would not grow
here.
 Lesson 18
Fusible
"Go and get the old iron spoon. Will," said Fred. "We'll have our lesson all over again when
Norah comes in."
Away ran Willie, while Fred went to find one or two things he wanted for the lesson, and they
were soon ready to begin.
"Now, little girl," said Fred, "you have seen me use this iron spoon before. What did I do with
it?"
"You put a piece of wax in it and held it over the fire," said Norah.
"What then?" asked Fred.
"The wax melted."
"What does that mean?" he asked again.
"The solid wax became liquid wax, and flowed about," said Norah.
"I think, too, we have melted something else besides wax," said Will.
"Oh yes," said Norah, "we melted sugar in the spoon too."
"I want to use the spoon again now. Do you know what this is, Norah?
"It is a piece of lead, I think," she said.
"You are right, sister. It is lead," said Fred. "Now look and see what happens when I put this
lead in the spoon, and hold it over the fire."
"The lead has melted and the liquid flows about in the spoon just as the other things did," said
Norah.
"Yes, it has melted," said Fred. "Teacher gave us a new name today for this melting. We may say
we melt the lead or fuse it. Fuse and melt mean the same."
"Yes, and the things that we can fuse," said Will, joining in, "are fusible. Some things, such as
wood, brick, slate, and stone, do not melt with heat. They are said to be infusible—that is, not fusible.
Teacher pointed out to us that some of our minerals are useful to us entirely because they are fusible.
Like lead, they can all be melted or fused with heat. We call them metals."
"Can you tell any of the metals, Norah?" said Fred.
"Iron and copper are metals as well as lead," said Norah.
"Yes," said Will, "and so are gold, and silver, and tin, and zinc."
SUMMARY
Wax melts in a spoon over the fire—the solid becomes a liquid, and flows about. Lead, too, melts in the same way. We say it is
fusible. Iron, copper, tin, zinc, silver, and gold will all melt or fuse, like the lead. They are metals.
 Lesson 19
Maize
"Can you tell me, Fred, what these big seeds are?" said Norah. "I picked them out from the
chicken's food. They are not like any of the grains of corn."
"Ah," said Fred, "but they are grains of corn. This corn is sometimes called maize, sometimes
Indian corn. We had a lesson on maize the other day; so, if you like, we will chat about it now.
"Let us begin with the plant itself. It grows from six to ten feet high. Its stem is very strong and
about as thick as your wrist. It is hollow and jointed, like the stems of the other corn grasses. The
leaves spring from the joints in the stem. They are long, broad, and pointed, and the veins in them run
side by side. The ear is called a cob. There is one in the corn dealer's window. Let us go and look at
it."
Away they ran, and were soon round the shop window. Fred made them compare the cob with
the ears of wheat, barley, and oats.
"How very large it is by the side of the other ears of corn, and how closely the grains are set,"
said Norah. "No wonder it has such a very strong stem."

"Let us now go back to the plant again," said Fred. "Teacher made us think of those long, broad
leaves. All the time the ear is growing the leaves fold themselves round it. They cover it up in a sort
of sheath, to protect it.
"When this sheath is no longer wanted the leaves spread open, and the ear peeps out, able to take
care of itself."
"Maize grows in the warm countries of the world," said Will. "It would never ripen in such cold
lands as ours."
"As the grains are so large," said Norah, "I suppose this kind of corn is better than wheat or oats
or any of the others."
"No," said Fred, "you are wrong. The biggest things are not always the best. Maize contains very
little gluten. It consists mostly of starch. Maize flour is not good for making bread.
"Maize is used very largely for making corn-flour for puddings and custards. This corn-flour is
only the starch of the grain. I daresay Norah could tell us how to get the starch from the maize-flour."
SUMMARY
Maize is also called Indian Corn. The plant is a great tall grass, with a hollow, jointed stem, and long pointed leaves. The ear is
called a cob. It contains a great number of large grains, set close together. Maize grows in warm lands. It contains very little gluten. The
starchy part of the grain is made into corn flour.
 Lesson 20
About Metals
"Look at this knife, Norah," said Fred. "Do you know what it is made of?"
"It is made of steel," said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred. "See what a bright polished surface it has. When it gets dirty what must
we do?"
"We must rub it," said Norah. "That will polish it again. The more we rub the brighter it will
shine."
"Right," said Fred. "Now, look at the copper kettle on the hob. That, too, is very bright. How is
it kept bright?"
"It must be rubbed like the knife, and so must the tins that hang in the kitchen. They always look
bright."
"Teacher gave us a new name for this brightness of the metals," said Fred. "He calls it lustre.
You must learn to say that these bright-shining metals are lustrous—full of lustre or brightness.
"I found my pocket knife just now. Here it is. I lost it a few days ago in the garden; but look at it.
It is no longer bright and shining. It is covered with red rust. Iron and steel soon rust if they are left
out in the weather."
"Do all the metals rust like this?" asked Norah.
"No," said her father, who had been listening to the children. "Look at these gold and silver
coins. They never rust. They would not rust if I left them out in the garden for a week.
"We call gold and silver the precious metals," father added, "because they never rust. All the
others are called common metals."
"Teacher showed us a sheet of gold leaf, thinner than the thinnest paper I ever saw," said Fred.
"It was beaten out thin with hammers.
"I have here a piece of lead. Watch while I beat it flat with this hammer. You know," he added,
"if I had beaten a piece of coal it would have broken in pieces, for it is brittle. The metals then cannot
be brittle. Teacher gave us a new word for all the metals that can be hammered out thin. We say that
they are malleable."
SUMMARY
Metals have a bright, shining surface, which we call their lustre. We say they are lustrous—that is, full of lustre. Metals sometimes
rust and lose their lustre. Gold and silver do not rust. We call them precious metals. Malleable means "able to be hammered out."
 Lesson 21
Some More about Metals
"I say, Fred," said Willie, "we didn't finish with the metals last night. Norah would like to hear
all about wire, I daresay."
"Oh yes," said Norah, "I should, and can you tell me how they make wire, Fred? Father was
using some wire today no thicker than sewing thread. I should like to know how they make it."
"Well," said Fred, "teacher showed us some coils of wire of all sorts in our lesson, and told us
how it is made.
"Let us take this piece of iron wire. This was made from a thick round bar of iron a few inches
in length. It was first made red-hot in the fire. As it got red hot it became soft. In this state it was taken
out with tongs and forced through a hole in a strong steel plate. The hole was smaller than the iron bar
itself, and it is easy to see that it squeezed the iron as it went through."
"Of course," said Willie, joining in, "this made the iron bar thinner, and at the same time longer."
"Yes, I understand." said Norah.
"Well," said Fred, "after it had been through this hole, it was forced into a smaller one, and
drawn through it, then through a still smaller one, and so on, each hole being smaller than the last."
"I think I can understand it all now," said Norah. "Every time the iron was drawn through a hole,
it became thinner and longer, until at last it made a great length of this thin wire. But is all wire made
like this, Fred?"
"Yes, dear," said her brother, "all wire is drawn out through holes in a steel plate in the same
way.
"Teacher gave us a name for metals which can be drawn out into wire. They are said to be
ductile. Ductile means able to be drawn out. They are ductile because they are tough or tenacious, and
hold firmly together."
"Whenever you see," added Will, "a piece of wire, Norah, you will be able to say at once, 'This
metal must be ductile and tenacious, or it could not have been drawn out into wire.’"
SUMMARY
Some metals can be drawn out into wire. We say they are ductile. They must be very tough or tenacious, to hold together while
they are being drawn out.
 Lesson 22
Iron Ore
"Do you know, Norah," said Willie, "which is the best of all the metals?"
"I should think gold is the best," said his sister; "it is worth so much money, and is so bright and
beautiful."
"No," said Will, "gold is not the best metal. Iron is the best, because it is so useful. Teacher says
it is the King of Metals. We see more things made of iron than of any other metal. Here comes Fred.
Suppose we have a chat about iron now."
"All right," said Fred, "I'm ready. Where did this iron poker come from at first, Norah?"
"The iron was dug out of great pits in the earth, called mines," said Norah. "That is why we say
iron is a mineral."
"That's right," said Fred, "but the iron was then only like a rough stone. It was called iron-ore or
iron-stone. Much has to be done to make it fit for use.
"The iron-stone is first mixed with coal, and piled in great heaps in the open air. The heaps are
set on fire and left to burn for days. This is called roasting the ore. It burns away the sulphur and some
of the other useless parts of the ore. The roasted iron-stone is next put into the blast furnace. This
great furnace is made of solid stone and brick work, built in the form of a cone or sugar-loaf. Just
think of a great sugar-loaf seventy feet high, Norah."
 "Teacher showed us a picture of a blast Furnace," said Will. "It was so easy to understand all
about it from the picture. It looked as if the great furnace had been cut down through the middle, from
the top of the cone to the ground.
"There was a gallery all round the top, and we could see the men on the gallery wheeling
barrows filled with iron-stone and fuel. The furnace is always fed from the top. Every half hour the
men throw in their barrow-loads of iron-ore, coke, and lime. The furnace burns day and night, and is
never once allowed to go out for years."
"I suppose the great heat melts the iron in the ore," said Norah, "for iron is fusible."
"Quite right, little sister," said Fred, "and the melted iron sinks to the bottom of the furnace,
because it is heavier than the other substances."
SUMMARY
Iron is the "king of metals." Iron-stone or iron-ore is dug out of the earth. It is first mixed with coal, and roasted in great heaps.
Then it is smelted in the blast furnace with coal, coke, and lime. The enormous heat melts the iron of the ore, and it sinks to the bottom of
the furnace as a thick, red-hot liquid. All the useless parts of the ore float on the top of the liquid iron.
 Lesson 23
Iron
"Fred," said Norah, "do tell me what becomes of that melted iron at the bottom of the blast
furnace."
"There is a hole in the side of the furnace," said Fred. "The men keep it plugged up close and
strong with fire-clay. Every twelve hours they come with long iron rods, and break away this clay
plug. Then of course out comes the red-hot liquid iron.

"The floor all round the furnace is laid thick with sand, and channels about four inches wide are
made in the sand. As the red-hot liquid metal flows out through the hole in the furnace wall it runs into
these moulds of sand. When it gets cold it forms solid blocks of iron. The blocks are called pigs of
iron. The iron itself is known as pig-iron. It is also called cast-iron, because it is cast or poured in the
liquid state into the sand moulds, and left to cool."
"And is this pig-iron fit now to make all sorts of things?" asked Norah.
"Well, no," said Fred. "Cast-iron is not fit for every purpose. These cast-iron pigs have to be
melted again in great pots in the puddling furnace. This is an intensely hot furnace where a flame is
made to play over the iron, although the iron itself is never allowed to touch the fuel which is burning.
In the blast furnace the iron got mixed up with some of the charcoal of the coal and coke. In the
puddling furnace this is all burnt away, and then the melted iron is poured out into molds. It cools in
the molds and forms solid blocks of iron. But you see it is still only cast-iron.
 "The blocks of iron are again put into the puddling furnace. This time the iron is not allowed to
melt. It is simply heated till it is soft and plastic. Each block is then taken out of the furnace, and
beaten while it is red-hot with immense hammers worked by steam engines.

"The iron is heated and hammered in this way again and again. When it has been worked up
enough, it is cut into bars while it is soft.
"It is now ready for use, and is called wrought iron."
SUMMARY
The red-hot, liquid iron is run off from the bottom of the blast furnace, just as we might run off water, or any other liquid, from a
tap. It flows into sand molds on the floor, and when it is cold it forms great blocks or pigs of cast-iron. The pigor cast-iron is again melted
in great pots, in the puddling furnace, and left to cool, after which it is heated till it is redhot and pliable, and in that state it is beaten for a
long time with immense hammers, and cut up into bars while it is soft. It is then called wrought iron.
 Lesson 24
The Cow
"Suppose, Norah, you tell us all you know about the cow."
"Very well," said Norah, "I'll begin by saying that the cow is a large thickset animal, with short,
stout, strong legs, just fit to support so heavy a body. It has a thick skin, which we call a hide, and the
hide is covered with close smooth hair. It has a pair of smooth, pointed horns, and large broad ears,
and its eyes are large and gentle looking."

"Now I think that's very good for a little girl," said Willie. "Suppose we begin, Fred."

"All right," said Fred, "we'll have a look at the feet. The cow's foot is just like the sheep's foot.
It has four toes, but it walks only on the two front ones. The two short toes behind never touch the
ground.
"Each toe is covered with a hard, horny case, which we call a hoof. The foot looks as if it were
split or cloven in two. We call it a cloven hoof.
"Now I want to ask a question. What do you remember about the animals that have cloven
hoofs?"
"They chew the cud," said Norah. "They do," said Will. "Suppose you tell us all about it, Fred."
 "Well, you remember that these animals have four stomachs," said Fred. "When they are feeding,
they bite off and swallow the grass, till they have filled the first stomach, or paunch. From the paunch
the grass is sent into a second bag or pouch, which has little hollows all round its sides. The grass
collects in little cuds or pellets in these hollows, and the cuds are passed up into the mouth to be
chewed. When it is chewed enough it is swallowed again. But it goes into a third stomach now, and
from this is passed on to the fourth stomach to be digested.
"Now just a word about the teeth of these cudchewers. What do you remember about the sheep's
teeth, Norah?"
"It has no teeth at all in front of the upper jaw, only a thick, hard pad."
"Right," said Fred. "Then, too, the back teeth have broad, flat crowns, and the lower jaw moves
from side to side, as well as up and down. These teeth are called grinders. They have to crush and
grind up the food as in a mill."

"Quite right," said Fred. "Now don't forget, Norah, that the cow is exactly like the sheep in all
these things."
SUMMARY
The cow chews the cud. Like the sheep, it has a hard pad, instead of teeth, in the front of the upper jaw, and great broad teeth for
grinding and chewing. It has four stomachs. It fills its paunch with grass, which it swallows mouthful by mouthful, without chewing it.
The paunch passes the food into a second stomach, and this sends it up into the mouth, in cuds, to be chewed, after which it is swallowed
again. The cow has a cloven hoof, exactly like that of the sheep. It touches the ground with only two toes in walking.
 Lesson 25
Cast-Iron
"I want you to help me to think about cast-iron again," said Fred. "First of all, why do we call it
castiron, Norah?"
"The iron is melted into a liquid," said Norah, "and poured or cast into a mold."
"Teacher showed us," said Willie, "that cast-iron is very useful in its own way, but this is only
because it is not like other iron. It fuses or melts easily and with less heat than wrought iron."
"Yes," said Fred, "and when it is cooling in the mold, it swells out and presses into every corner.
It must take the exact shape of the mold.
"Cast-iron is just the metal to use for all sorts of articles, where beauty of shape is wanted. We
can mold it into any shape we please."
"But," Willie joined in, "these cast-iron things won't stand much hard wear and tear, for cast-iron
is very brittle, and breaks very easily."
"Cast-iron is used for making fenders, fire-grates, railings, iron bedsteads, brackets, saucepans,
and kettles," said Fred. "These things will last a long time if fairly used."

"Teacher showed us too," said Willie, "that castiron will bear almost any amount of downward
pressure. It will neither twist out of shape nor break. This is why the great pillars to support bridges
and arches are always made of cast-iron. The stands for our desks at school are made of cast-iron.
They will bear any amount of pressure, but they would snap in two with a blow, because they are so
brittle."

"Can you tell us, Norah," asked Fred, "something we can't do with cast-iron?"
"Well," said Norah, "as the cast-iron is so brittle, it could not be beaten out into thin sheets. It
would break with the blows of the hammer."
"Quite right," said Fred, "cast-iron is not malleable."
"And as it will not hold together, it could not be drawn out into wire. It would break apart with
the pulling."
"Right again. Cast-iron is not ductile, and cannot be made into wire."
SUMMARY
Cast-iron melts with less heat than other iron. It is poured, in the liquid state, into molds, and takes their exact shape. Castiron is
very brittle. It is neither malleable nor ductile.
 Lesson 26
Milk, Butter, Cheese
"While we were talking about the cow the other day," said Norah, "we forgot all about the milk
she gives us. Milk forms part of our daily food. We drink it; we put it in our tea, coffee, and cocoa;
we use it for making puddings with sago, corn-flour, rice, and tapioca.
"I've been thinking that as these starch foods cannot make flesh, perhaps we put milk with them,
because the milk can make flesh. Is that so, Fred?"
"Wait," said Fred, "and I'll show you that you are quite right, Norah.
"Did you ever see some milk that had been left to stand for a time?"
"Oh yes," said Norah. "There is always a thick cream floating on the top."
"Well," said Fred, "this cream is a mass of very tiny cells or bags of fat. Each cell is like a little
bladder, with an extremely thin skin. In the dairy they skim off this cream to make butter."
"Yes," said Norah, "but how do they make the butter, Fred?"
"The cream is put into a churn," said Fred. "The dairy-maid keeps on turning the handle to shake
the cream about. The object of shaking the cream is to break the thin skin of those little fat cells. When
the little bladders break, the fat in them is set free, and forms into a solid lump of butter."

"We saw something else in the milk." said Will. "I daresay Norah has often seen milk when it has
turned sour."
"Oh, yes," said Norah, "I saw some sour milk today. There was something white and thick and
solid floating in it."
"Well," said Willie, "teacher got some of this stuff out of the milk, by pouring a sour liquid
called rennet into it."
"But what did the rennet do to the milk?" said Norah.
"It made some of the milk form into white solid lumps," said Fred. "These lumps are called
curds. The rest of the milk is known as whey.
 "This curd," Fred added, "is the part of the milk which is able to make flesh. You know, of
course, that the cow's milk is meant to feed her little calf, till it is able to look after itself. It is the
curd of the milk that builds up the growing body of the little calf.
"Did you know, Norah, that cheese is made from these curds of milk?"
SUMMARY
The cream of milk is a mass of tiny cells or bags of fat. The little bags are broken in the churn, and the fat in them forms butter.
The curd of milk is made into cheese.
 Lesson 27
Wrought Iron
"Teacher showed us some things made of wrought iron today," said Willie. "They are not at all
like the cast-iron things we were talking about.
"He had a strip of wrought iron. He beat it with a hammer. He bent it and twisted it about in all
sorts of rough ways. But it did not break, because wrought iron is very tough and flexible."

"Teacher showed us too," said Fred, "that wrought iron is malleable. It is not malleable when it
is cold, like lead is. Iron must be made red-hot before it can be hammered out. When it is red-hot it
becomes pliable, and can be hammered into any shape we please."
"I have watched the blacksmith at the forge," said Norah. "He puts the iron into the furnace and
makes it red-hot. Then he lays it on the anvil, and beats it with his hammer. The iron which he works
must be wrought iron, I suppose, for it is malleable."
"Teacher next showed us some iron wire," said Willie. "It could not be cast-iron, for cast-iron is
not ductile. This iron had been drawn out into very fine wire, and it must be ductile."
"I say, Norah," said Fred, "you know we went to the blacksmith's shop to get my iron hoop
mended?"
"Yes," said Norah. "I watched him put the broken ends of the hoop into the fire, and when they
were red-hot he hammered them together."
"Quite right," said Fred. "It is almost as easy to weld wrought iron together, when it is red-hot
and pliable, as it is to join two pieces of clay or putty.
"Wrought iron can be made into any kind of article with the help of the forge, hammer, and anvil.
It is malleable, and can be beaten into any shape we please. It is ductile and tough, and can be drawn
out into wire of any thickness.

"Its immense strength renders it just the thing for making girders, or beams for bridges, and
arches, and great buildings. It is used for making steam engines, which have to do all sorts of work.
Chains, too, of all kinds are made of wrought iron, because wrought iron will bear any amount of
tugging and straining without giving way."
SUMMARY
Wrought iron is tough, flexible, malleable, and ductile. When it is made red-hot in the furnace, it becomes pliable; it can then be
welded at the anvil. Wrought iron will bear any amount of tugging and straining. Chains, bridges, arches, and engines are made of it.
 Lesson 28
The Horse
"We are going to talk about the horse," said Fred. we will all go into the stable, and have a look
at our dear old Tommy—the best horse in the world.

"Now, Norah," he began, after they had petted and stroked Tommy, "what can you tell us about
him?"
"I should begin by saying that the horse is a big strong animal," said Norah. "He is bigger than
the cow. We use him to draw heavy loads, because he is so strong."
"Very good," said Will, "and he is useful because he obeys his master, and is quiet, gentle, and
patient at his work.
"Now let us look at Tommy. Look at his beautiful large, gentle eyes. Dear sensible old fellow, he
looks almost as if he knew what we were saying."
"Do you notice," said Fred, "that the eyes are set not quite in the front of the face, but a little to
the side? The horse can see well all round him. Notice his ears too. They are short, erect, and
pointed, and very sharp. Did you see Tommy prick up his ears as we came in?
"In his wild state the horse is very timid. He wants sharp eyes and ears to warn him when his
enemies are near."
Father came in just then, and Fred asked him to show them Tommy's teeth.
 "Come on, Tommy, old boy," said their father, "open your mouth, and let the children see your
teeth."
Fred pointed out the six, sharp, cutting teeth, top and bottom. "There is no pad in the top jaw,"
said he. "The cow and the horse do not feed in the same way. The horse nibbles the grass a mouthful
at a time, and chews it up at once, before he swallows it. He does not chew the cud. Look at Tommy's
great grinding teeth. They are meant to crush up his food.

"The horse's foot is not cloven, like the cow's foot. It is one solid piece—a single toe; and this
one toe is covered with a hard, horny case, or hoof."

"How do the wild horses manage, Fred? They have no one to make shoes for them. Oh, and I say,
does it hurt Tommy when they nail those iron shoes on his feet?"
"One question at a time, dear, please," said Fred.
"The wild horses live on smooth grassy plains. Their hoofs do not wear out as they do on our
stony roads. We put shoes on their feet to save them from wearing away on the stones. You will be
glad to know that the farrier does not hurt the horse, when he drives the long nails into his hoof. The
hoof is a hard substance like horn. It can be cut as easily as we cut our nails.
 "Here are some fine pictures of horses. The first one is the cart-horse, a powerful animal for
drawing heavy loads.

"This is the hunter. He carries his master on his back.

 "This one is the race-horse, a very fleet runner."
SUMMARY
The horse has sharp, cutting teeth in both jaws, and large, broad teeth for grinding. He does not chew the cud. His hoof is not
cloven; it is really a single toe, covered with a horny case. His eyes are at the side of the head, and his ears are erect and very sharp.
The cart-horse draws heavy loads; the hunter carries his master; the race-horse is a very fleet runner.
 Lesson 29
Steel
"Fred," said Willie, "I have been thinking about our lesson ever since we left school. Steel must
be a very wonderful metal. Why, we might almost say it is two metals all in one."
"Well," replied Fred, "there are two kinds of steel, and each of them is very unlike the other in
many ways."
"How very strange, Fred," said Norah, "and yet I think you told me that all steel is simply iron in
another form."
"I can't tell you exactly how the steel is made," said Fred. "It is kept for weeks in a furnace at
one fixed heat, and then left to cool.
"Some of it is afterwards cut up into small pieces, and melted in strong wrought-iron crucibles,
or pots, in a very hot furnace. The melted metal is poured out of the crucible into molds, and left to
cool. It makes a special kind of steel fit for special purposes. It is known as cast steel.
"Some of the steel is not melted in crucibles, but simply heated, and hammered, and welded,
again and again, just as the wrought iron is served in the puddling furnace. Steel treated in this way
makes quite another kind of metal. It is known as shear steel.
"Cast steel is as fusible as cast-iron, but it is as malleable as wrought iron."
"That must make it doubly useful." said Willie.
"Yes," said Fred, "it does. Don't you remember teacher said that the cast steel can be used for
moulding or casting, or it can be heated in the forge, and then worked up, beaten, welded, rolled, or
cut, just as they treat wrought iron?"
"Our great guns are made of this cast steel," said Willie, "and so are most of the steel parts of
engines and other machines. Shear steel is used for making knives and all cutting tools, as well as
springs for watches, locks, doors, and carriages. It is very elastic."
SUMMARY
Cast-steel is easily fusible, like cast-iron, but it is malleable, and can be worked up at the forge like wrought iron. Cast-steel is used
for making machinery and great guns.
Shear-steel is used for making cutting tools and springs. It is very elastic.
 Lesson 30
The Rabbit
"Come and see what father has given me for my birthday present," said Norah— "a pretty tame
rabbit in a hutch. Isn't it a beauty, boys? It is nearly as big as our dear old Tabby, and, like her, it has a
thick coat of soft warm fur."

"It is really a beauty, dear," said Fred and Willie in one breath.
"Look at its long ears," Norah went on, "and they are so sharp. At the least sound up they go.
And then its large, soft, gentle eyes. Look at them. They are very bright and sharp, although they are
soft and gentle."
"Do you see," said Fred, "that the rabbit's eyes are placed at the sides of the face, not in front? In
its wild state it has many enemies among the flesh-eaters. It is a timid little thing, and cannot fight
them. It must get away as fast as it can. The eyes are placed at the sides of the face to help it to see all
round as well as in front.
 "Now, I think, perhaps I can tell you something you do not know about your rabbit," Fred added.
"To begin with, if you look at the top lip, you will see that there is a cleft up the middle, which
divides it into two halves. As it moves the lips, you can see the four front teeth, two in the upper jaw
and two in the lower. They are long, broad, and flat, and very sharp at their edges. Teacher calls them
chisel teeth. You have seen father cut off pieces of wood in slices with his chisel.

"Let us give Bunny this carrot, and watch how it eats. See, it gnaws or nibbles off pieces with its
front chisel teeth. The rabbit is called a gnawing animal because it eats like this. The top lip is split to
help it in its gnawing."
"Look, Fred," said Willie, "the lower jaw moves from side to side, as well as up and down,
while the rabbit is eating."
"Then I suppose," said Norah, "the other teeth in both jaws are grinders, for chewing or grinding
up the food."
"Now I want you to look at the feet," said Fred. "The front legs are shorter than the hind ones.
Rabbits move very quickly, but instead of running like most animals, they leap or jump about on their
strong hind legs.
"If you look at the toes you will see that they are strong, and that each toe has a thick blunt claw.
If we put Bunny out in the garden it would soon begin to scratch up the ground with its claws."
SUMMARY
The rabbit has two large chisel teeth, in front of each jaw, for gnawing. Its upper lip is cleft. It has large grinding teeth at the back
of the jaws. The jaw moves from side to side, as well as up and down. It is a timid animal; its eyes are at the side of the head; its ears
are very sharp. Its front legs are short; and its toes and claws are strong.
 Lesson 31
Copper
"Look, Norah," said Fred, "here is mother's copper coal scuttle. Suppose we have a talk about
copper. What is the first thing you notice about it?"
"Its colour is bright red, and it has a shining surface," said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred. "Remember that copper is the only red metal, and that it has a bright
lustre.
"Now look at the scuttle again," he added. "You will see that it is made of thin sheet copper.
How was this made?"
"It was beaten out, or rolled out," said Norah.
"What does that tell us?" asked Fred.
"It tells us that copper is malleable."
"It is," said Fred, "one of the most malleable of all the metals.
"Now I will hold the scuttle up," he went on, "and you shall strike it with this stick. What do you
notice?"
"It gives out a loud ringing sound," said Norah.
"Yes," said her brother, "it does, and we say that copper is sonorous, which means loud-
sounding.
"This is copper wire—some thick, some very thin. What can you tell me by looking at this
wire?"
"The copper must be ductile," said Norah, "or it could not be drawn out."
"Quite right again," said Fred, "and it is very tough or tenacious, for we may pull, bend, or twist
the wire about almost as we please, and it will not break."
"I want now to show Norah this rusty copper nail," said Willie. "See, it is covered with bright
green patches. These patches are the rust of copper. Copper rusts very easily, and the rust of copper is
poison. It is called verdigris.
"Copper is dug out of the earth as an ore," said Fred, "like most other metals. Like iron-ore, it
has to be smelted to remove the useless matter, and then it is made into many useful things, such as
kettles, saucepans, scuttles, and other articles used in the house."
"Does Norah know," asked Willie, "that brass is made by melting copper and zinc together?
What a beautiful useful metal brass is!"
"Our pennies, half-pennies, and farthings are made of bronze," said Fred, "and bronze is made
by melting copper, tin, and zinc together."
 "Yes, and bells are made of bell-metal," added Willie. "Bell-metal is a mixture made by melting
copper and tin together."
SUMMARY
Copper is a red metal, with a bright lustre. It is very tough, malleable, and ductile. It rusts easily, and the rust of copper is poison.
Copper gives out a ringing sound when it is struck. Brass is made from copper and zinc. Bronze is made from copper, tin, and zinc.
Pennies, half-pennies, and farthings are made of bronze.
 Lesson 32
The Rabbit at Home
"Father says we may take Bunny out of the hutch," said Fred, "and let it run about in the garden
for half an hour. While it has a run, we will sit down and chat about it.

"We know that the rabbit is a timid, little animal. It has many enemies in its wild state, but it
cannot fight them. It has to get away from them as fast as it can. Its sharp eyes and ears are meant to
give the rabbit warning, if any of these enemies are about. Its legs, too, help it to get away very
quickly."
"Then," said Willie, "it was made to live on roots and all sorts of plant food. Its chisel teeth are
just fitted for gnawing off its food in pieces, and its grinders and jaws for chewing it."
"Besides this," added Fred, "it has a thick, warm coat of fur, just fitted for an animal that is
meant to live in the open air. Its whiskers, too, are useful for feeling its way, when it is too dark to
see. Its strong claws are made for scratching and digging in the earth.
"Shall I tell you all about the wild rabbit in its home, Norah?"
"Oh yes, do, please," said his sister.
"Then listen, little girl, and you will see how well it is fitted for the life it has to lead. In all
parts of the country rabbits live wild in the fields and woods. They are very timid creatures, and like
to hide away out of sight in their homes. But where do you think those homes are? They are under the
ground.
"They choose a sandy spot, where it will be warm and dry, and here they dig long, winding
tunnels, or burrows, with their strong feet and stout blunt claws.
"They live together in great numbers, and make their burrows side by side. A great many
burrows close together form a warren. The burrows are just big enough for them. Foxes, and other
wild flesh-eaters, cannot make their way into these holes, so that the rabbit is safe there from all its
enemies.

"It is dark in the burrows of course, but the rabbit uses its whiskers instead of its eyes, and feels
its way. At the end of the winding burrow is the rabbit's home—a warm, snug nest made of grass, hay,
and straw, from the fields around. Here the rabbit lives with his wife and children quite safe from
harm.
"All day the rabbits hide in their burrows. After dusk, and early in the morning, they come out to
scamper in the fields, and find their food. They do much damage by gnawing the farmer's crops, so
they have to reckon the farmer with his gun as another of their enemies."
SUMMARY
The wild rabbit makes its home in a burrow under the ground. Its blunt, strong claws are its digging tools. It feels its way in these
dark tunnels with its whiskers. It comes out into the fields, morning and evening, to feed on the farmer's crops.
 Lesson 33
Lead
"I had never thought till today," said Will, "what a useful metal lead is."
"Father has lent me these pieces of Lead," said Fred. "Let us have a talk. Suppose we begin with
this piece of sheet-lead.
"What does this sheet-lead tell you, Norah?"
"It tells me that the lead must be malleable, because it has been hammered out into these thin
sheets," said Norah.
"Well, if it has not been hammered out, it has been rolled out," said Fred. "The truth is,
malleable metals are more often rolled out than beaten flat with hammers. This sheet-lead was rolled
flat between heavy steel rollers.
"Sheet-lead is sometimes made in another way. The lead is melted and poured out on a flat table
covered with fine sand. While it cools and hardens, it is rolled with wooden rollers.
"Take the piece of sheet-lead, Will, and see how easily you can bend it.
"Lead is very flexible. See, too, how easily I can cut it with the knife. The workman can bend it,
cut it, and hammer it into any shape he pleases.
"Sheet-lead is used for the roofs and gutters of houses, and for lining water cisterns, and you can
see now why it is useful for these purposes.
"Here, look at this piece of lead pipe," he added. "This is used for gas and water. Lead is more
useful for this purpose than any other metal, because it can be easily fused, bent, cut, and hammered,
just as the workman pleases.
"Teacher showed us that the very reasons, that make lead useful for these purposes, make it
useless in another way. Why don't we use lead wire?"
"Lead is a soft metal and breaks easily," said Willie. "It is not ductile, so that it cannot be drawn
out. It is not tenacious, so that it would not bear to be pulled."
"Do you see this spoon?" said Fred. "It looks like lead, but it is not lead. It is made of pewter.
Pewter is made by melting lead and tin together. Pewter is used for making drinking vessels, and
many useful things for the house.
"You must remember that lead, like most metals, is found as an ore. It must be smelted, to
remove the earthy matters before it can be of use."
SUMMARY
Lead is a soft metal, and may be fused, bent, cut, or hammered with ease, but it is brittle, not ductile, and will not make useful
wire. Sheet-lead is used for many purposes. Pewter is made from lead and tin.
 Lesson 34
The Monkey
"Oh, do come and see, boys," said Norah. "Here's a man with a monkey. It is such a funny, little
creature, and is playing such funny tricks."
Off they all ran in a moment, and for a long time amused themselves by watching the antics of the
strange, little animal. When he had gone away and the children were back again, Fred said, "That
monkey, I think, will be the best thing for us to talk about to-night, while he is fresh in our minds.
"Now what did you think the strangest thing about the monkey, Norah?"
"Why, he seemed to have no feet," said Norah. "His feet looked just like his hands."
"And quite right, too," said Fred. "His feet are hands. He has four hands. We call monkeys four-
handed animals.

"You know your own hand has four fingers and a thumb. If you take hold of a stick and grasp it,
you will see how useful the thumb is. You could not grasp the stick if you had no thumb. You could not
do it with your foot."
"That monkey, too, seemed to have very long arms," said Norah. "They reached nearly to the
ground."
"Yes," said Willie, "teacher says all monkeys have very long arms. Did you notice, Norah, he
never stood quite upright? When he was on the ground he did not seem happy. He looked very
awkward as he moved along. He was always stooping. He seemed to be using his long arms to
support himself."
 "The truth is," said Fred, "monkeys are quite out of place on the ground. Their proper home is in
the trees. Their four hands are made for grasping the branches. Their long arms help them to swing
themselves from one branch to another. Although they are so awkward on the ground, they are very
sharp and nimble in the trees. They climb and spring from bough to bough, and are quite at home
there.
"Monkeys are not found wild in this country, but in some parts of the world they are as numerous
as rabbits are here. They live in the dense woods and forests of the hottest countries of the world.
Their home is in the trees, and they feed chiefly on fruits and nuts."
SUMMARY
Monkeys have four hands. They are meant to live in the trees. Their arms are very long, to help them to swing from branch to
branch. They have hands instead of feet, to grasp the branches.
 Lesson 35
Tin
"Oh, boys," said Norah, after tea was over one evening, "I wish you would come and help me
find my pretty tin mug. I have not seen it since I had it in the garden nearly a week ago. I'm afraid it
will be covered with rust."
"You may make your mind easy as to the rust," said Fred. "Tin does not easily rust." Then they
began the search.
"Look, here it is, under the seat. It is not at all rusty. A rub with the leather will soon make it
shine as brightly as ever. Tin has a very bright, metallic lustre, and can easily be polished when it gets
dull.
"Suppose your mug had been made of iron instead of tin, Norah," he added.
"Ah," she said, "it would have been rusted all over, wouldn't it, Fred?"
"Yes, it would," replied Fred. "But I say, Norah, what will you say when I tell you that your tin
mug is not a tin mug at all. It is really made of iron. Very few of the things which we call tin-ware are
really made of tin. They are made of sheet iron, covered with a coating of tin on both sides. It would
be better to call them "tinned ware."
"Let us see why the tin is put over the iron. The iron would rust very quickly, but the tin, although
it will tarnish, does not rust. When it gets dull and tarnished, a rub will make it clean and bright
again."
"But how do they put the tin coat on the sheet iron?" said Norah.
"Teacher melted some tin in the old iron spoon," said Fred, "to show us how easily it melts. It is
the most fusible of all the metals. To make the "tinned ware" the sheet of iron is dipped into melted
tin, and when it is taken out the tin forms a coat all over it.
 "The tinman uses solder to join the pieces of tin together when he makes vessels for use. Solder
is a mixture of lead and tin.
"See what I have here," Fred went on. "It is a sheet of tin as thin as paper. It would take a
thousand sheets like this, laid one upon another, to make a pile an inch high. It is called tin-foil. I took
it off a packet of sweetmeats this morning. It is used for wrapping up sweetmeats, fancy soaps,
tobacco, and all articles that have to be kept from the air. See, it is so pliable that it folds closely over
the things. Can you tell me how this tin-foil is made, Norah?"
"It must be either beaten or rolled out," said Norah. "I suppose it was rolled out."
"Yes," said Fred, "it was. What does that tell us about tin?"
"It tells us that tin is a malleable metal."
"Tin, like other metals, is always found as an ore. It must be smelted in a furnace, to remove the
earthy parts, before it can be of use."
SUMMARY
Tin is a white metal, with a bright lustre. It is very fusible and malleable. "Tinned ware" is made of sheet-iron dipped into melted
tin. The tin forms a coat over the iron. The iron itself would rust; tin does not easily rust, and can be rubbed up when it gets dull.
 Lesson 36
Three Classes of Monkeys
"Teacher showed us some fine pictures of monkeys today, Norah," said Willie. "One was the
Gorilla. We call him an ape. He has no tail. He is much bigger than a man, for he is nearly seven feet
high, and has a great broad, powerful body and a huge head. He is covered with coarse, iron-gray
hair, and his face is jet black. He is a fierce, ugly, savage creature. A man would rather meet a lion
than this great ape.

"He lives in the dense forests of Africa. He and his mate make their nest in the trees by twining
the branches together. They live on roots, fruits, and berries.
"Then we saw pictures of the baboons. They have short tails. Some baboons are nearly as tall as
a man. They are all very fierce and strong. Teacher showed us one with a face marked with lines of
scarlet, purple, and blue. He is called a Mandrill.
 "Now, Fred, suppose you tell us about the monkeys."
"Well," said Fred, "the monkeys are smaller than either the apes or the baboons. They all have
long tails.

"Monkeys are found in the forests of Asia and Africa, and also in America. The monkeys of
America are not like those of Asia and Africa. They have either no thumb at all or a very small one,
but to make up for this, the tail is very long, and the creatures use it as a sort of fifth hand. They are
very clever climbers.
"The monkeys of Asia and Africa have shorter tails, but the thumbs are better fitted for grasping.
You could easily tell them by their cheek pouches. Teacher showed us their loose wrinkled cheeks.
The wrinkles form bags or pouches, and the monkeys stow away in them the nuts and fruit which they
gather in the forests.
 "I am going to ask father to take us to the Zoo, to see the monkeys and baboons," Fred added.
"Teacher says we can't see the dreadful gorilla there. He is such a furious, savage beast that he will
not live in a cage. He refuses his food and dies rather than live a prisoner. Perhaps father will take us
to the Museum, to see the stuffed bodies of the dead gorillas."
SUMMARY
Apes have no tails. The gorilla is a fierce, ugly, savage ape, bigger than a man. He lives in the forests of Africa.
Baboons have short tails. They are nearly as big as a man, and very fierce.
Monkeys have long tails. The monkeys of Asia and Africa have cheek pouches; their tails are not so long as those of the
American monkeys.
 Lesson 37
Zinc
"Father has given me these pieces of zinc," said Fred, "so suppose we have a chat about zinc
tonight.
"Let us begin with this piece. It looks new, and has a bright surface. We may say that zinc is a
bluish-white metal, with a high metallic lustre.
"Now look at this piece. Can we call this bright?"
"No," said Will and Norah together, "it is dull and tarnished."
"It is not only tarnished," said Fred, "it is rusted. There is a thin coating of rust on the surface.
But teacher asked us to remember that, when zinc once becomes covered with a thin coat of rust, it
will not rust any further. The rust does not eat into the metal, as it does into iron. Take it in your hand,
Norah, and scrape it lightly with the knife, and you will find it quite bright inside."
Norah did so, and found it just as Fred said.
"But I say, Fred," she cried, "how light it seems."
"Yes," said Fred, "it is light. It is the lightest of all the metals.
"This piece," he added, "is sheet zinc. How was that made?"
"It was rolled or hammered out," said Norah, "so zinc must be malleable."
"Yes," said Fred, "it is like lead and tin in this respect. And, like them too, it is not good for
making wire. It is neither ductile nor tenacious."
"It is mostly used as sheet zinc. The reasons are that it is malleable, and can be easily rolled out;
it is lighter and harder than lead, and, at the same time, cheaper, and it bends easily.
"It is largely used for the roofs and gutters of houses, and for rainwater pipes, as well as for
baths, cans, and vessels of all kinds for holding water. The reason is that water and air do not rust
zinc, except on the surface."
"Do you know, Norah, that zinc saws are always used for sawing up blocks of salt?" said Fred.
"Iron or steel saws would rust, but zinc does not rust.
"Now look at mother's new pail. It looks exactly like zinc; it is the colour of zinc. But it is not
zinc. It is made of iron. We call it galvanized iron.
"It was made just as the 'tinned ware' was made. The iron was dipped into melted zinc, and this
formed a coat all over it, to keep the iron from rusting."
SUMMARY
Zinc is a bluish-white metal. It rusts very slightly, and only on the surface. It is the lightest of the metals. It is malleable. Sheet-zinc
is used for many purposes, but it is neither ductile nor tenacious. Iron that has been dipped in melted zinc is called galvanised iron. It will
not rust.
 Lesson 38
The Mole
"Our lesson today," said Willie, "was about a very strange, little animal, the mole. It lives in
most parts of the country, and yet it is rarely seen alive, because it lives under the ground.
"The rabbit too lives under the ground, but only to be safe from its enemies. It must come out to
get its food. This little animal, the mole, is born underground, he lives, eats, drinks, works, and, I
daresay, dies there."

"How can he feed under the ground?" asked Norah. "What does he live on?"
"He is a fierce, hungry, little hunter," said Fred, "and rabbits' food would not do for him. He
catches little animals and eats them."
"But what animals can he find in the earth?" asked Norah. "oh, I suppose you mean worms and
beetles and things of that sort. I have found them in my garden when I have been digging."
 "That's right," said Willie, "they are the mole's food."
"Now look what I've got," said Fred. "This is a mole that has been dried and stuffed. Father got
it for us.
"Look at the shape of his body. It is short, thick, and rounded, with a pointed snout and very short
legs, just the sort of body for boring tunnels in the earth.
"Now look at the front paws. They are like broad flat shovels. They have strong claws, which
turn outwards and backwards. They are his digging tools."
"How soft and smooth his coat is," said Norah.
"Yes," said Fred, "and it does not matter which way it is rubbed, it is always smooth. If you rub
the cat's fur the wrong way it looks rough. The mole's fur is never rough; it bends easily either way.
But the best point about it is that it will not allow any of the earth to stick to it. It all shakes off easily,
so that although he lives in such a home, he is never dirty, while his thick coat keeps him warm in the
damp cold earth.
"Some people say," added Fred, "that the mole has neither eyes nor ears.
"The truth is that the eyes and ears are so hidden up by the thick fur, that they cannot be seen.
"Of course, down in that underground darkness, eyes are all but useless to the mole. But his ears
are very sharp, and so is his sense of smell. His hearing and smell help him to find his prey.
"I suppose, now, when we speak of his prey, you would like to know something about his teeth.
They are long, sharp, and pointed. They are just fitted for seizing his victim and tearing its flesh—not
for chewing. He catches and kills frogs, fieldmice, and small snakes, as well as earthworms and
beetles."
SUMMARY
The mole lives under the ground. His strong, front paws are his shovels for digging. He makes a fine house underground. He
feeds upon worms, grubs, and beetles, which he finds there. He has sharp teeth for tearing and cutting flesh, but no chewing teeth. His
fur is thick and warm, and does not ruffle up. His ears are very sharp.
 Lesson 39
Silver
"You remember, Norah, that silver and gold do not rust?"
"Oh yes," said Norah. "We call them precious metals."
"I want you to look at mother's silver spoon. What can you tell me about it?"
"It is white," said Norah, "and has a very high polish."
"Yes," said Fred, "and now let us put the spoon by the side of these pieces of tin and zinc. The
whiteness of the silver is not the yellowish-white of the tin, nor the bluish-white of the zinc. Silver is
pure white.
"I must not let you scratch mother's nice spoon," he added, "but you could easily do it with a
knife, for silver is a very soft metal. Pure silver would not be fit for use. It is too soft and would wear
away. This spoon itself is not all silver; neither is this shilling. Some copper is always mixed with the
silver to make it hard enough."
"Don't let us forget those thin leaves of silver that teacher showed us," said Will. "Why, they
were so thin you could blow them away, Norah. They were ever so much thinner than the tin-foil. You
know that a thousand leaves of tin-foil, one on the other, make a pile an inch high. But you would want
just ten thousand of these silver leaves to make a pile that height."
"Then," said Norah, "what a very malleable metal silver must be."
"It is," said Fred. "Teacher says it is more malleable than any of the common metals. It is so
easily malleable, that it can be beaten into any shape, for making spoons, forks, trays, cups, tea and
coffeepots, and many other things for use and ornament, as well as the money, with which we buy
what we want.
 "Look now at this very thin silver wire," added Fred. "I pulled it out of an old piece of fringe.
What do you learn by looking at the wire, Norah?"
"I learn," replied his sister, "that silver must be very ductile, or it could not be drawn out into
fine wire like this."
"Quite right," said Fred. "This silver wire is used for making lace and fringe.
"We said just now that silver does not rust," he went on, "but the fumes of our fires and gas will
soon cause silver to tarnish. Sulphur too will quickly tarnish it, and turn it dull and black, like a dirty
piece of lead. But a rub with the leather soon cleans it again, and brings back its beautiful white
lustre."
SUMMARY
Silver is a pure-white metal, with a very high, metallic lustre. It does not rust. It is a precious metal. It is very malleable, ductile,
and tenacious. It is made into money, and many beautiful articles for use and ornament.
 Lesson 40
Gold
"Come here, Norah, and see how rich I am," said Fred.
"Just look, Willie," cried Norah. "Fred has got a bright, new sovereign. How beautiful it looks.
Where did you get it, Fred? Did you find it?"
"No," said Fred, "I did not find it. It is not mine. Father lent it me. We are going to have a chat
about gold tonight. We must take care of it, though.
"Now suppose we begin. You shall tell us what you can find out about gold, by looking at the
sovereign, Norah."
"Well," said his sister, "the first thing I can see is that gold is a yellow metal, with a very bright
polish or lustre."

"Yes," said Fred, "and we might say that it is the only yellow metal we have."
"But," said Norah, "isn't brass a yellow metal too?"
"It is yellow, dear, but, if you remember, brass is not a pure metal. It is a mixture of copper and
zinc.
"Then too," he added, "polished brass has a very high lustre, but just look at this brass
candlestick. It was left out in the toolhouse and forgotten. See, it is covered with patches of green
rust."
"Yes, but gold never rusts," said Willie. "It does not even tarnish. It remains quite unchanged by
air or damp.
"Now take the sovereign in one hand and this shilling in the other, Norah."
"I know what you mean," said she. "The gold sovereign is heavier than the silver shilling."
"Yes, dear, it is," said Fred. "Gold is the heaviest of all the metals I have shown you."
"I suppose," said Willie, "you remember those thin leaves of silver, we talked about the other
night?"
"Yes," said Norah. "It takes ten thousand of them to make a pile one inch high."
"What would you think, then, of gold leaves so thin that twenty-eight of them, one above the
other, would not be thicker than the one leaf of silver? It is true, though, and teacher says it takes
282,000 leaves of gold to make a pile an inch in height. How very thin the gold must be beaten."
"That tells us that gold is much more malleable than silver," said Norah.
"It is the most malleable of all the metals," said Fred. "It can be beaten, rolled, cut, and twisted,
or worked up into any shape the workman wishes.
"It is for all these reasons, and also because gold is scarce, and therefore valuable, that people
like to use it for rings, chains, bracelets, watches, and other beautiful ornaments to wear.
"You should remember that gold, like silver, is too soft to be used alone. Some copper is mixed
with it to make it harder."
"Teacher told us too," said Willie, "that gold is mostly found not as an ore, but in little round
grains, called nuggets. The nuggets are pure gold."
SUMMARY
Gold is a yellow metal, with a very high lustre. It is a precious metal; it never rusts, or even tarnishes. It is the most malleable and
ductile of all the metals. As it is scarce, it is used for money, and beautiful articles for use and ornament.
科学读本（英文原版）第三册
 第三册

目录
Lesson 01 Water—Its Properties
Lesson 02 Some of the Uses of Water
Lesson 03 Birds and their Covering
Lesson 04 A Feather
Lesson 05 The Uses of Feathers
Lesson 06 Water as a Solvent
Lesson 07 Further Uses of Water
Lesson 08 Birds
Lesson 09 Water in other Forms
Lesson 10 Vapor in the Air
Lesson 11 Birds and their Beaks
Lesson 12 More about Beaks
Lesson 13 Vapor—What Becomes of It
Lesson 14 Clouds, Rain, Dew
Lesson 15 Birds—Their Legs and Feet
Lesson 16 Birds—More about Legs and Feet
Lesson 17 Solid Water
Lesson 18 Ice, Hail, and Snow
Lesson 19 A Snake
Lesson 20 How the Snake Feeds
Lesson 21 Mercury
Lesson 22 The Poisonous Snakes
Lesson 23 The Non-Poisonous Snakes
Lesson 24 Mercury—Its Preparation and Uses
Lesson 25 The Frog
Lesson 26 Air
Lesson 27 More about the Frog
Lesson 28 More about the Air
Lesson 29 The Frog and the Toad Compared
Lesson 30 Gases
Lesson 31 The Frog—Its Life History
Lesson 32 Coal-Gas
Lesson 33 A Fish
Lesson 34 More about Coal-Gas
Lesson 35 More about the Fish
Lesson 36 Balloons
Lesson 37 How The Fish Moves
Lesson 38 Tar
Lesson 39 The Fish and its Food
Lesson 40 Paraffin Oil
Lesson 41 An Insect
Lesson 42 Carbonic Acid Gas
Lesson 43 More about Insects
Lesson 44 More about Carbonic Acid Gas
Lesson 45 Life History of an Insect
Lesson 46 Parts of a Plant
Lesson 47 The Spider
Lesson 48 The Vital Organs of the Plant
Lesson 49 The Spider's Web
Lesson 50 Parts of a Flower
Lesson 51 More about the Flowers
Lesson 52 The Flower and its Work
Lesson 53 Seeds
Lesson 54 Seedlings
Lesson 55 The Seed-Leaves
Lesson 56 The Single Seed-Leaf
Lesson 57 The Bark
Lesson 58 Kinds of Bass
Lesson 59 Flax
Lesson 60 Linen-Making
返回总目录
 Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time.
—James Russell Lowell
 Lesson 01
Water—Its Properties
"We have not learned all about water yet, it seems," said Will, as the two boys trudged home
from school.
"No," said Fred, "I expect there is plenty more for us to learn, and yet it all seems so simple
when teacher leads us to look at the things in the proper way."
They had just been promoted again to a higher class, and that day the teacher had given the class
the first object lesson of the new course. It was about the properties of water.
Our two boys seemed to have taken a new interest in life and in the things around them from the
day they had their first object lesson. They had been through two courses of lessons, and were now
about to commence the third.
"What are you so busy with, boys?" said Norah to them after tea.
"We are getting a few things ready for another chat about water," said Fred, "if you would like to
join us, Norah."
"Oh yes," said she, "I should. But I can't think what else you can have to say about water. We
know that it is a liquid, and that it dissolves things that are put into it, and that—"
"There, there, wait a minute, little girl," said Will. "Suppose you tell us why you call water a
liquid."
"Oh, that's easy," said Norah. "First of all water has no shape of its own. It always takes the
shape of the vessel which holds it. Then, too, it cannot stand in a heap, but always keeps a level
surface."
"We cannot grasp water in our hands, to pick up a handful of it, as we could a handful of sugar or
flour or raisins. The water would fall away in drops out of our hands and run along the floor, because
water always flows down and tries to get lower. Everything that is like water in these respects is a
liquid."
"I think she knows why water is called a liquid, Fred, so we may as well talk now about the
other properties of water." said Will.
Fred had got several tumblers, just as he had seen his teacher do in class. He put clear water in
one, and milk in another, and in the rest of them some water that he had colored with a few drops of
red, black, and blue ink. He showed Norah these colored waters first, then the milk, and lastly the
glass of clear water.
"Now, little girl," said he, "what color is water? You see it is not white; the milk is white.
Neither is it black, or red, or blue."
"I don't think it has any color." said Norah.
"And you are quite right," said both the boys. "Water is a colorless liquid."
"Now," Fred continued, "look through the tumbler of water, and then through the milk. Can you
see this ball through the milk?"
"No."
"Can you see it through the water?"
"Yes, I can see it through the water, but not through the milk."
 "Remember, then, that water is transparent, milk is opaque. Water is a colorless transparent
liquid. Milk is a white opaque liquid."
"And remember, Norah," said Will, "that we learn these properties of water through our eyes, by
the sense of sight."
"Now, suppose we made you shut your eyes, and tell the names of various liquids, such as tea,
vinegar, cocoa, coffee, brine, by smelling and tasting them, could you do it?"
"Oh yes, I am sure I could." said Norah.
"Then shut your eyes, and tell us the name of this one by first smelling it and then tasting it." said
Fred.
"I can neither smell nor taste anything." said Norah.
"Now open your eyes and see what the liquid is," said her brother. "You see it is water. Water
has neither odor nor taste. We say it is an inodorous and tasteless liquid, but we learn this through two
other senses—the sense of smell and the sense of taste."
SUMMARY
Water is a liquid. Liquids have no shape of their own; they take the shape of the vessel which holds them; they flow about; they
break up into drops; they will not stand in a heap, but always keep a level surface. Water is a transparent, colorless, tasteless, inodorous
liquid.
 Lesson 02
Some of the Uses of Water
"Now that we know something of the properties of water," said Fred, "we can talk about a few
of the uses to which it is put. What do you think is the most important use which we make of water,
Norah?"
"I should say," replied Norah, "that its chief use is for drinking purposes."
"Quite right," said Fred. "We could not live long without drink of some sort, and although we do
not always drink water, yet all drinks are made of water."
"Yes," added Willie, "and animals and plants, as well as ourselves, require water or they would
die."
"We must not forget, too, that our food has to be cooked and prepared with water."
"Then think of the great use we make of water in washing ourselves and our dirty clothes, and in
cleaning our houses. Teacher says it is the natural cleanser. We cannot be healthy and happy unless we
are clean. Dirt brings disease, and the worst enemy of dirt is water."
"Now, I want you," said Fred, "to imagine what would happen if the water, instead of being
colorless, tasteless, and odorless, had a taste, smell, and color of its own."
"Picture to yourself our shirts and collars, everything we wear, as well as our floors and tables,
and every article of our food, colored red or blue, through being washed or prepared in red or blue
water."
"Think of the taste of our food too. It would take the same flavor and the same smell as the water
in which it was cooked."
"Water is useful for all these purposes simply because it is colorless, tasteless, and odorless."
"I have just been thinking," said Willie, "of what teacher told us about the water cisterns. You
know water is very absorbent, and will suck up and hold gases."
"Teacher told us that all rotting or decaying matter in dustheaps and manure heaps gives off bad
gases. These bad gases would be sure to find their way into any water that was near, and we could
not drink such water without being made very ill."
"The cistern which holds the water for drinking and cooking our food should be kept as far as
possible from rubbish and manure heaps, and bad smells of all kinds."
"There is one great use of water," said Fred, "that depends upon its being absorbent. Just think of
the fishes and other animals that live entirely in the water. These animals all require air. Without air
they would die."
"But how can they get air in the water, Fred?" said Norah. "Do they come up to the top every
time they want to breathe?"
"No," said Fred, "they do not. Many of these creatures never come to the surface of the water at
all. Yet they breathe freely, because there is plenty of air in the water."
"The water is absorbent. It is constantly sucking in air all over its surface. It is this air which the
fishes and other creatures breathe."
SUMMARY
 Water is the natural drink of man and all animals. It is the natural cleanser. We cook and prepare our food with water. Water
absorbs gases. Fishes can breathe in water, because it contains air. Drinking water should be kept from bad smells of all kinds.
 Lesson 03
Birds and their Covering
"We have not had a chat about animals for a long time," said Fred. "Would you like us to start
one this evening, Norah? We had a good lesson on birds today, and I think Will and I can tell you
something about it."
"Oh," said Norah, "I should like it very much."
"Well then, you remember we talked about several animals last year," Fred began. "We had
amongst others the cat, dog, sheep, pig, horse, cow, and rabbit. Now think of them, one by one. What
sort of clothing have they?"
"They all have different sorts of coverings," said Norah.
"Quite true," said Fred. "But all birds are clothed with feathers."
"Now I want you to think of something else. How do all those animals feed their young ones?"
"They nurse them," said Norah. "I have seen our Tabby nurse her kittens."
"Did you ever see a bird nurse its young?"
"No, the parent birds feed their little ones with bits of food which they find for them. Birds do
not nurse their young."
"There is just one other point for us to notice now about birds," Fred continued. "All the animals
we have mentioned live and move about either on the earth or under it. But what can you tell me about
birds?"
"Birds fly in the air," said Norah. "They have wings."
"Quite right," said both boys. "Now, Norah, you know the three chief things about birds. Birds
are the only creatures that are clothed in feathers. Birds do not nurse their young. Birds have wings
and fly in the air."
 "But let us fix our attention now," said Fred once more, "on the covering of feathers. This is the
warmest, lightest, and, at the same time, the most beautiful of all coverings."
"Wait a minute while I go to the pigeon-house and get my little pouter. He is very tame, and will
perch on my arm while we talk about his feathers."
Fred was back again in no time with his pigeon, and then he began. "Suppose we look first at the
wings and tail. Notice these long feathers, as I spread out the wing. They have a stem, which we call
the quill. These are the quill feathers. They are fixed into the skin of the bird by a sort of root. The
bird makes use of these long feathers in the wings and tail for flying."
"Now, if you run your finger over the birds body, you will find that the whole of the body is
covered with smaller feathers, which form its real covering. These are the clothing feathers."
"Notice that when I run my fingers over them the wrong way, I ruffle them up; but they can be
easily smoothed back again into their proper position, and then they are seen to be beautifully
arranged, one overlapping the other, so as to form a close-fitting coat."
"Such a coat of feathers closely overlapping one another is of course very warm. But some
birds, such as ducks and geese and swans, that spend much of their time in the water, both in winter
and summer, are still further protected from cold. They have a close-fitting under-jacket of very
small, fine, soft, fluffy feathers, which we call down."
"Yes," said Norah, "I have seen the down on the geese at Christmas time, and how tiresome it is
to pick it all off clean."
SUMMARY
Birds are clothed with feathers. They do not nurse their young. They have wings, and fly in the air. Birds have large quill feathers
in the wings and tail, and clothing feathers to cover the body. Some birds have soft down under-jackets.
 Lesson 04
A Feather
"Where have you been, Fred?" asked Will. "We have hunted everywhere for you."
"I've been in the fowls' house," said Fred, "to find a few feathers. Look what a fine lot I've got.
They will do well, won't they?"
"Oh, I know," said Will. "You are thinking about our lesson. Yes, they will be just the thing.
Where's Norah?"
In a few minutes the three were seated at the table ready for a chat, and Fred handed some of the
quill feathers round.
"Now, a glance at one of these feathers," he said, "will tell us that it consists of two parts. There
is the long stem, which runs from the root to the very tip of the feather, and on either side of this is the
blade or web."

"Let us examine the central stem first. The lower half of it near the root seems to be quite
different from the upper half. Try and cut it across with your knife, Will." Will tried, but he found it no
easy task to cut through this part of the stem, for it was like strong, tough horn. However, he did cut it
across at last, and then they saw that it was really a round hollow tube.
"Teacher calls this lower part of the stem the quill," said Fred. " It is thin, hollow, and extremely
light, but it is very tough, strong, and elastic, and will bear a great deal of rough usage. The lower end
of it forms the root, which holds it in the skin of the bird."
"Now let us look at the other part of the stem. It is called the shaft. Suppose you strip your
feather and then examine it. What can you say about it?"
"The quill of the feather is round," said Norah, "but this part has four sides. The upper and under
sides are smooth, like the surface of the quill, the other two sides are rough. It was from these edges
of the shaft that we tore off the web just now. I can see, too, that the shaft becomes smaller and
smaller towards the tip."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now we will go a step farther. Watch, while I cut through the shaft as
we did through the quill just now. This part of the stem, you see, is not hollow like the quill. It is
filled with a loose, white, tough substance—the pith."
"We have done with the quill and the shaft now," he continued. "I want you to turn your attention
to the other part of the feather, which teacher calls the web."
"If you examine this web you will see that it is made of a great many long, narrow, thin blades—
the barbs. These spring from the shaft, and are arranged with their two flat sides close together."
"Pluck one or two of them. You can see that the edges of the barbs are provided with a great
number of very small blades—the barbules. Barbule means a little barb."
"These barbules are really little hooks. They interlock themselves one in the other, and so hold
the barbs of the web close together."
"Look, while I run my finger along the feather the wrong way. You see the little hooks are pulled
apart, and the barbs themselves are separated from each other."
"Teacher showed us that the barbs always point towards the tip of the feather, and away from the
quill; and, in addition to that, every feather on the bird's body points backwards."
"This is very important. As the bird moves through the air the feathers are pressed closer and
closer to its body. This helps the bird in its flight, and, at the same time, keeps it warm."
SUMMARY
A feather consists of a stem and a web. The stem has a hollow quill, and a shaft filled with light pith. The web consists of barbs;
the edges of the barbs are held together by the barbules. All the birds' feathers point backwards.
 Lesson 05
The Uses of Feathers
"You have not forgotten our chat about feathers, Norah?" said Fred a few evenings later.
"Oh no," said his sister. "I know the three kinds of feathers which birds have—the quill feathers
of the wings and tail, the body or clothing feathers, and the under-jacket of down."
"Teacher has been showing us that all these are very useful to us in their own way. Shall I see
what I can remember of our lesson?"
"Oh yes, do, Fred, please," said Norah.
"Well then, let us begin with the quill feathers. These are mostly used for adorning ladies' hats
and bonnets. The most beautiful and costly feathers are the wing feathers of the ostrich, a great bird
ever so much bigger than a man."
"In Africa there are large ostrich farms, where these birds are reared solely for their feathers,
and I am sorry to have to say, Norah, that the cruel people of those farms pluck the feathers at regular
seasons from the poor birds while they are alive."
"I suppose very few of the ladies who wear the beautiful feathers have any idea of the torture the
poor birds suffer to provide for their dress. It always makes me very angry when I think about it."
"It's just as cruel to slaughter other birds," said Willie, "by thousands, as they do, for nothing
else but their beautiful feathers. Of course it is always the most beautiful of the birds that they choose.
If I were a lady I would never wear one of the dreadful feathers."
"I'm sure I never will," said Norah, with a shudder. "How cruel it is!"
"Teacher showed us some quill pens," said Fred. "They are made of the wing feathers of the
goose and swan. We rarely see quill pens now. They are not so much used as they once were. Nearly
every one writes now with a steel pen. But the quill pen is still used for certain purposes, and a small
pen made of the crow quill is the best for some kinds of drawing."
"The clothing or body feathers of birds are very largely used for stuffing beds, pillows, and
cushions. The birds which supply most of the feathers for this purpose are the poultry birds and wild
fowl. They are killed for food, and the feathers are plucked from their dead bodies."
"I was thinking," said Norah, "of the great number of these birds we see in the shops about
Christmas time. What an immense quantity of feathers there must be."
"Yes," said Fred, "and teacher says that, besides these, we bring in year after year shiploads of
feathers from other countries."
"Very little trouble is wanted to prepare them for use. All that is needed is to dry and beat them
to remove dust, and then to bake them in an oven to kill the vermin in them."
"Do you remember what teacher said about the eider down, Fred?" asked Will. "The down is got
from the eider duck, Norah, a wild seabird that makes her nest on the rocks by the sea, and lines it
with down from her own breast. In this nest she lays her eggs."
"Each day men go round and take away some of the down and some of the eggs. Each day the
bird plucks more down from her breast and lays another egg, only to have the nest robbed again and
again, till she has no more down to spare."
"This may seem cruel, but the bird is not fit for food, and as we want the down, it is better than
slaughtering the birds to get it."
SUMMARY
The quill feathers of some birds are used for ladies' hats and bonnets, for ornaments, and for making pens; the clothing feathers
and down for stuffing beds, pillows, cushions, etc.
 Lesson 06
Water as a Solvent
"I suppose," said Willie, "teacher only wanted to find out today how much we remember of our
early lessons. He went over all the old work."
"Yes," said Fred, "and as soon as tea is over I am going to try Norah. I wonder whether she has
forgotten all about it."
As soon as they were free, therefore, the boys got a few things together, and Fred began just as
their teacher had begun in class.
"Look, Norah," he said, "I have here a piece of coal and a piece of salt. If I put them into water
can you tell me how they will act?"
"Oh yes," said Norah. "The salt will dissolve in the water, but the coal will not dissolve."
"But what do you mean by the word dissolve?" he asked again.
"The word dissolve means to loosen or separate," replied Norah. "The water has the power to
loosen and break up, or separate the solid salt into such tiny little particles that we cannot see them.
When it is broken up into these tiny particles, we say the salt is dissolved. The water cannot break up
the coal. It will not dissolve."
"Do you know what we say about the salt because we can dissolve it in water, Norah?"
"We say," replied Norah, "that the salt is soluble. The coal is insoluble; that means not soluble."
"What other substances will dissolve if we put them in water?"
"Sugar, soda, alum, and lime all dissolve. They are all soluble substances," said Norah.
"Now tell us what we say about the water that dissolves these things?" said Fred.
"We say that water is a solvent for sugar, salt, alum, lime, and any of the things which it
dissolves," said his sister.
"See," Fred continued, "I can take the coal out of the water just as it was when I put it in. But can
I take the salt out in the same way?"
"No, the salt cannot be taken out, because it is broken up into very small particles, and the
particles are scattered through the water."
"Could I get the salt out of the water in any other way?" asked Fred.
"If you boiled the water," said Norah, "it would all pass away as steam, and the salt would be
left behind."
"Do you remember," Fred asked again, "that we once filled a tumbler with water to the brim, and
then put in salt, a spoonful at a time?"
"Oh yes," said Norah, "and I thought you were so clever. I could not make out how you were
able to put all that salt in without spilling any of the water."
"But you know now, Norah, don't you?" asked Will.
"Yes," said Norah, "you told me all about it. The water is porous and absorbs the tiny little
particles of salt into its pores."
"That's right," said Fred. "The tiny dissolved particles, after being broken up and scattered in all
directions, fill up the pores in the water. When the pores are all filled the water can hold no more,
and the rest of the salt falls in a solid wet mass to the bottom. Remember that water absorbs air and
gases in the same way by sucking them up into its pores."
SUMMARY
Water loosens or breaks up salt and other substances into tiny particles too small to be seen. It dissolves them. The dissolved
particles are absorbed into the pores of the water. We can get rid of them only by boiling the water. Water will not dissolve some
substances. They are insoluble.
 Lesson 07
Further Uses of Water
"I wonder what can be the matter with Norah," said Willie, as the two boys came in at the garden
gate one afternoon from school.
She was sobbing and crying, while the big tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh, Fred," she cried, " look at my pretty window boxes. I forgot to water them yesterday, and
the sun has been so hot today, that all my beautiful flowers look scorched up and dying. Can we do
anything for them ? I am so sorry."
"All right, little sister," said Fred, "crying won't do any good, so dry your eyes and let us see
what can be done for them. Here, Will, you go and get a pail of water. The best way to revive them is
to stand them in water just as they are, pot and all, for about ten minutes."
Fred took the flowerpots down, one by one, and stood them in the water. After giving them a
soaking in this way, he put them back in their places, and then it was time to go in to tea. When tea
was over, and they got out again, many of the plants were already holding up their heads, and the rest
of them looked to be reviving rapidly.
"Now, little girl," said Fred, "while we sit here and watch your plants, let us have a chat about
them. Do you know why they were drooping and dying?"
"I suppose," said Norah, "it was because they were thirsty and wanted water."
"Yes," Fred replied, "that's right. But it was worse than that. They were not only thirsty through
the great heat; they were dying, because they were actually being starved in the midst of plenty of
food."
"The soil in the flowerpots contained an abundance of food, of exactly the kind they required, but
it was useless to the plants till it had been dissolved by water."
"By soaking the pots a few minutes we dissolved some of the substances in the soil, and then the
little roots were able to suck up those things in a state of solution."
"You know that the root is the feeding organ of every plant. You will now understand that, but for
this solvent power of water, no single plant could live and grow."
"I have always noticed," said Norah, "how fresh and bright and beautiful the plants in the garden
look after a shower of rain."
"Yes," said Fred; "they do. But you must remember that it is not the rain itself that does this."
"Teacher was very careful to show us that the rainwater is nearly pure, and contains no
substances in solution. Such water could not feed the plant."
"It is only after it falls, and sinks into the soil, that the rain becomes useful to the plant. It is
useful then because it dissolves the plant-food in the soil."
"Teacher explained to us, too," said Willie, "that this same rain, after passing through the soil,
continues to sink down deep into the earth. It trickles through rocks of various kinds, and dissolves,
on its way, all that is soluble."
"By and by the same water bubbles up out of the ground again, and forms a spring."
"Teacher says this spring water always contains some solid substances or other in a state of
solution."
 "The waters of some springs contain such mineral substances as iron and sulphur in solution.
These are known as mineral springs. The waters are used as medicines."
"You remember," said Fred, "our talk about the glass of sparkling spring water. Does that spring
water contain any substance in solution?"
"Yes, it has lime dissolved in it," said Norah. "We cannot see the lime, but we can find it as a
thick coating round the sides of the kettle, in which the water is boiled. We call it 'fur'; and we say
that the kettle is getting 'furred.'"
"Oh," Norah continued, "I remember, too, about the brine springs which supply us with salt for
the table. The water of these springs fell at first as rain, and as it sank through the earth it dissolved
the salt that was there, and carried it away in solution."
"Then, again," said Will, "the sea is salt too, and it gets its salt in the same way."
"Teacher says the sea is fed with water by the rivers, which are constantly flowing into it; but the
water of all these rivers is fresh, not salt water. It fell in rain from the clouds. It got its salt by
dissolving it out of the substance of the earth itself."
SUMMARY
Water feeds the growing plants by dissolving proper food for them out of the soil. Water dissolves many substances out of the
earth as it soaks through. It forms mineral springs and brine springs, but all this water falls in rain from the clouds at first.
 Lesson 08
Birds
"Suppose we have a chat about birds this evening," said Fred. "Can you tell me, Norah, why all
birds are clothed with feathers?"
"Feathers make the lightest of all coats," said Norah. "Birds have to raise themselves in the air
and fly, and a thick heavy coat would prevent them from doing this."
"Quite right, and so would a thick heavy body, wouldn't it? Teacher has been showing us that the
bird's body must be light as well as its clothing."
"If we compare the bones of a bird with the bones of some other animal about the same size, we
find a great difference. The bones of the bird are very much lighter."
"You would find out the difference by holding Will's guinea pig in one hand and my pigeon in the
other. I am sure it would surprise you."
"The bones of the bird are all hollow, and at the same time they are very light and thin."
"Now let us think of the build of the bird's body. We ourselves, as well as the animals about us,
have two pairs of limbs. So has the bird; it is built on the very same plan, except that it has wings
instead of arms or forelegs."
"Teacher made us compare our own arm and hand with the wing of the bird. We have an upper
arm, a forearm, and a hand. The bird has all these parts to its limb, but the bones are lengthened to
make a wing for flying."
"Do you know which part of our lesson pleased me most, Fred?"
"I suppose you are thinking about the mouths and feet of the birds," said Fred.
"Yes, I am," replied Will, "for I can't help thinking that it is very wonderful."

"You know, Norah, we learned a long while ago to look into the mouths of animals when we
wanted to find out all about them, their food and their habits. The teeth of the animal tell us all we
want to know."
"Teacher showed us a great many heads of birds. They all have hard horny beaks or bills instead
of mouths, but the bills are not all the same shape."
"The bill forms mouth and teeth all in one, for birds have no real teeth. We call the two parts of
the bills the mandibles."
"Teacher says the bills are not all alike, because the birds themselves are not alike in their
nature, their habits, or their food."
"Just as we learned to do in the case of other animals, so shall we have to do with the birds. We
must examine their mouths to learn what we want to know about them."
"You remember too, of course, that in all our old lessons we found the feet as important as the
mouths. We always examined the feet. Teacher told us today that we must learn to do the same with
the birds."
"He showed us some pictures of birds' feet. They were all different from the feet of any other
animal. We call birds' feet claws."
"Although all birds have claws, there are many ways in which the claws of one bird differ from
those of another."
"Teacher says that in every case the nature, habits, and food of the bird depend upon the form of
the claws, as well as upon the bill."
SUMMARY
The bones of the bird are thin, light, and hollow. Instead of arms and hands the bird has wings for flying. Birds have beaks, which
serve as mouth and teeth all in one. Their feet are claws; but they are not all alike.
 Lesson 09
Water in other Forms
"Look, Fred, how the steam is puffing out of the spout of the kettle," said Norah, as they sat
round the fire.

"Yes, dear, I put the kettle there myself," said Fred. "I wanted you to notice it, for we are going
to have a talk about the steam now."
"What would happen if we left the kettle on the fire?"
"The water," replied Norah, "would all boil away, and the kettle would be left dry."
"But what does that mean?"
"The water would be changed into steam," said Norah.
"I think," said Fred, "I had better explain it as teacher did. He says that steam is only water in
another form. The heat breaks up the water into such extremely small particles, that they are lighter
than the air itself. They therefore rise in the air and mingle with it."
"But what becomes of it in the air, Fred?"
"The air is very porous," replied Fred. "It absorbs into its pores these little floating particles,
just as water absorbs salt."
"You have seen mother hang out the wet clothes on washing day, and you know that after a time
she is able to take them in quite dry. What has become of the water? I will tell you. The water in the
wet clothes on the line has been broken up into tiny particles—not of steam, but of something like
steam. We call it vapor."
 "These little particles of water vapor, like the particles of steam, are so light that they rise in the
air, and are at once sucked up or absorbed into its pores."
"We say that the water evaporates. We mean that it changes into vapor."
"I have seen the water evaporate after a shower on a very hot day," said Will. "The vapor rises
in a cloud from the wet pavements, and in a few minutes the stones are quite dry. On a cold day, too,
the pavement dries up, but not so quickly as in the hot summer weather."
"But you see," said Fred, "if it dries up at all, it proves that even in the cold weather the water
evaporates. Let me explain it to you. It is the air which carries off the water, and it does this because
it is porous and absorbent."
"Sometimes the air is so very dry that its pores contain little or no vapor. When this is the case
the air becomes very thirsty. It will break up the water into tiny particles and suck them at once into
its pores."
"The drier the air is, the quicker will be the evaporation. Clothes will dry on the line in cold
weather as quickly as in hot, if the air is dry."
"When the pores of the air are already loaded with water vapor, it is very little use to hang the
clothes out. They will not dry. The air cannot take in any more water, because its pores are already
full. No evaporation can go on. The water remains in the clothes."
SUMMARY
Steam is water in another form. The heat breaks up the water into tiny particles lighter than the air. They rise and float away in
the air. The air absorbs them into its pores. Vapor is something like steam. Some amount of vapor rises even in cold weather. Dry air can
evaporate and absorb more moisture than damp air.
 Lesson 10
Vapor in the Air
"Come to the window, Norah," said Will, "and you can see the very thing we were talking about
the other day. The rain is over now, and there is so much vapor rising that the ground seems to be
steaming. The air must be very dry and thirsty, for the sun has been hot, and a great deal of the rain
which has fallen will evaporate. But will it all evaporate, Norah?"
"No," said Norah. "Some of it will sink into the ground, and after a time bubble up again in the
form of a spring. We can see too some of it is running away in streams along the gutters to the drains."
"Yes," said Fred, joining in, "and the drains will carry it away to the river, and so to the sea. The
whole of the water which drains off the land flows away and forms rivers, and the rivers pour their
water into the sea. So that in the end it all comes to the sea."
"Teacher made us think about those great bodies of water—rivers, lakes, oceans—all over the
world, with the thirsty air all round. You have seen evaporation going on from the wet ground after
this shower of rain."
"What an immense amount of vapor must be always rising from the great surface of the sea. The
air gets most of its vapor from this one source."
"Don't forget that evaporation goes on over every part of its surface. Of course it is more rapid
in the hot parts of the world than in the cold, but even in the cold regions there is evaporation."
"Teacher gave me a surprise, Fred, about the plants," said Will.
"Yes, Will, I think most of the boys were surprised to see that bottle," replied Fred.
"What was that?" asked Norah.
"Teacher showed us a bottle with some fresh-cut leaves in it. He had put the leaves into the
bottle and corked it up tight before he left home for school. The bottle was perfectly dry when he put
the leaves in, but when he showed it to us the whole of the inside was covered with little drops of
moisture."
"Then, of course," said Norah, "the moisture must have come from the leaves."
"Yes," replied Fred. "Teacher says all plants give out moisture, and this moisture is changed into
vapor and absorbed by the air."
"Think what a quantity of vapor must be formed and sent into the air in this way by all the trees
and plants that grow on the earth."
"But animals as well as plants help to fill the air with vapor," continued Fred. "Teacher made us
think of a horse drawing a heavy load. You must often have seen a horse at work covered with drops
of moisture or sweat. You know that we ourselves cannot work hard or run about without perspiring.
We find the sweat drops on our own bodies."
"Now what do you think becomes of all this moisture? I will tell you. It evaporates, and the air
absorbs the vapor as it forms."
"Oh yes," said Norah, "I have often seen a horse's body steaming with vapor when he has been
working hard."
"And not only his body," said Will, "his breath too gives off clouds of vapor. We can see it every
time he breathes, and we can see the same thing if we watch our own breath. It is always loaded with
vapor."
SUMMARY
Most of the vapor in the air is evaporated from the great bodies of water in the hot regions of the world. But some vapor is always
rising into the air everywhere. Plants and animals send out vapor into the air.
 Lesson 11
Birds and their Beaks
"What do you think of the lions and tigers of the air, Will?" asked Fred one evening.
"Lions and tigers of the air!" said Norah. "Whatever do you mean, boys?"
"We mean that teacher has been giving us another lesson on birds, and he calls some of the birds
the lions and tigers of the air," said Fred. "I think it is a very good name for them too."

"He commenced the lesson by showing us a picture of a bird's head. The first thing that struck us
about this head was the great, hooked, and pointed beak. It looked very strong, and seemed just suited
to the piercing eyes and the fierce, cruel-looking face of the bird."
"Teacher says this bird is as fierce and cruel as it looks. It lives on the flesh of other animals,
and its strong, hooked, pointed beak is just fit for the work of tearing them to pieces."
"You may be sure I thought at once of the fierce flesh-eating beasts, and their sharp, cruel teeth;
and it was just then that teacher told us we might call all birds of this kind the lions and tigers of the
air, or birds of prey. He says they hunt their prey in the air just as the beasts of prey hunt their victims
on the earth."
"It was the picture of an eagle's head that teacher showed us. The eagle is the king of birds.
Amongst the other birds of prey are vultures, hawks, falcons, and owls."
 "I think Norah would have been pleased with those fishing birds," said Will,
"What are they like?" asked Norah. "Are they fierce and cruel too?"
"Well, I don't know that they are fierce," said Will, "except perhaps to the fishes, frogs, and other
creatures of that sort, which they catch in the water for their food. But they seem to be fitted in a very
wonderful way for the life they have to lead."
"These birds are always found in marshy, swampy places, or by the banks of rivers, because it is
only in such places that they can find the animals on which they feed. They have long, slender, pointed
beaks."
"They are very keen of sight, and most clever at their fishing. No sooner does the bird catch sight
of its prey in the water than it darts upon it like lightning, pierces it through with that sharp, pointed
beak, and brings it to the surface."
 "The stork, heron, and crane are fishing birds."
"I think the woodpecker is a very wonderful bird," said Fred. "This is a bird that feeds on
worms, grubs, and insects, which eat their way into the trees. It cannot, of course, see these little
creatures inside the stem of the tree, but it seems to know exactly where to find them."
"It has a long, straight, pointed beak, very hard and strong. It finds out its prey by tapping on the
bark of the tree with its beak and then listening."

"As soon as it is sure of finding its prey, it begins to bore through the bark with its strong beak
till it comes upon the spot where they are. No other beak would do this boring work so well. Then the
woodpecker's tongue becomes a wonderful help to him. The tongue is long, narrow, and pointed, and
the bird is able to thrust it out suddenly a long way beyond the beak."
"When the beak has bored the hole, the tongue instantly darts forward and seizes the worms
before they can escape. This is how the woodpecker feeds."
SUMMARY
Birds of prey have hooked, pointed beaks, for tearing flesh; fishing-birds have long, sharp beaks, for stabbing the fish in the water;
the boring-birds have strong, pointed beaks, for boring into the bark of the trees to find insects.
 Lesson 12
More about Beaks
"Shall we finish our chat about the beaks of birds?" asked Fred.
"Oh yes, boys, do, please," said Norah. "I have been watching the ducks grope about in the mud
with their broad flat bills, and I can't make out why they are always doing it."
"Well, we will talk about the duck's bill first, if you like," said Fred. "Teacher had a real duck's
head to show us today. We took it in our hands and examined it for ourselves."

"The bill is, as you say, broad and flat, like a sort of shovel. It is not at all like any of the bills
we have already examined. We found we could easily bend the mandibles in our fingers, for they are
not hard. Such a bill therefore could not be meant for tearing flesh, for boring holes in trees, nor for
stabbing its prey."
"We began to be very curious when teacher opened the mandibles and pointed out to us, along
the edge of the upper one, a row of fifty or sixty projecting points. These form a sort of stiff fringe,
something like the teeth of a comb. The tongue, which is large and fleshy, fills the whole of the mouth.
All round the edge of the tongue there is a fringe, something like that which hangs from the mandible."
"How very strange," said Norah. "I can't think yet what the meaning of it all can be."
"When the mouth is shut," Fred went on, "the fringe on the edge of the tongue and that hanging
down from the mandible fit into each other."
"These birds find their food by groping in the mud, with their shovel-like bills. The mud and
dirty water are strained out at the sides of the mouth, but the insects, grubs, and worms, and whatever
is fit for food are held back by the fringed edges as in a trap."
"You see, ducks live on grubs and worms, like the woodpecker, but they catch them in a different
way."
"Geese and swans of course belong to the same class of birds."
 "The nut-cracking birds have very curious beaks," said Willie. "Next time you see a parrot,
Norah, have a good look at its beak. It is a short, strong, hooked bill, with a sharp point."
"These birds and others of the same class live on nuts, fruits, and berries, and they use their
strong bills as their nutcrackers."
"Most of our small birds live on seeds, don't they?" asked Norah.
"Yes, and we might put them all in one class and call them seed-eating birds," said Fred.

"The beak is short, hard, and strong, and shaped like a cone. They use these bills to crack the
husks of the seeds."
"Oh yes," said Norah, "I have often watched our canary crack his seeds and drop the husks on
the floor of the cage."
SUMMARY
Ducks, geese, and swans have flat, shovel-like bills. They grope in the mud with them for grubs and worms. The nut-cracking
birds have hard, strong, hooked bills. The beaks of the seed-eating birds are short and cone-shaped.
 Lesson 13
Vapor—What Becomes of It
"Our last chat about vapor," said Fred, "showed us that evaporation is constantly going on
everywhere. The air always contains vapor, and yet we cannot always see it. Teacher proved this in a
very simple way today. How do you think he did it? He stood a tumbler of cold water on the table."
"Please tell me all about it, Fred," said Norah, "for I can't see how that would prove it."
"Well," said Fred, "after he had let the tumbler of water stand some time on the table, he showed
us that the outside of the glass was covered with tiny drops of moisture."
"This moisture did not come from the water in the glass. It came from the vapor in the air. That
vapor was at first invisible, but when it touched the cold sides of the glass, it became visible as little
round drops of water, which settled on the glass itself."
"We could not at first make it out," said Willie, "for teacher had a tumbler of warm water on the
table as well as the other one, and there were no drops of moisture on this."
"Let me see," said Fred, "whether I can explain it. Take this slate, Norah, and breathe on it. I
cannot see your breath, but look at the slate, and you will see some drops of moisture on it."
"Now hold the slate over the spout of the kettle, while the steam is pouring out. What do you
see? The slate is covered with little drops of moisture."
"The vapor in the air leaves little drops of moisture on the sides of the tumbler; the vapor from
your breath and the steam from the kettle leave drops of moisture on the slate. The tumbler and the
slate were cold."
"It is cold that changes the vapor into drops of moisture. Teacher says the vapor in the air is
invisible only because it is split up into such extremely small particles that they cannot be seen."
"Cold causes these tiny particles to rush together, so that they are pressed into a smaller space,
and then we can see them. We say they are condensed."
"The steam as it first comes from the spout of the kettle is invisible. But when it meets with the
colder air of the room it condenses. The tiny particles of the vapor are made to rush together, and we
see it as it floats away."
"We do not usually see our breath as it leaves the mouth and nostrils. But when the weather is
very cold, the vapor of the breath condenses and the breath at once becomes visible."
SUMMARY
Cold condenses the vapor in the air into drops of moisture. Steam is at first invisible. It becomes visible when the cold air begins to
condense it. All vapor is at first invisible.
 Lesson 14
Clouds, Rain, Dew
"I little thought," said Willie, "when we started our chats about vapor, how far they would lead
us. Why, that tumbler of cold water has told us all about the dew-drops we see on the grass in the
morning; the steam from the spout of the kettle explains the clouds that we see in the sky, and—"
"You forget, Will," said Norah, joining in, "you have not yet explained all this to me. I want to
know, please."
"Well, then," said Will, "suppose I try to explain it to you now. You know that evaporation is
always going on around us from the surface of the earth, from seas and rivers, and from plants and the
bodies of animals."
"We do not see the vapor in the usual way. But sometimes the air, instead of being transparent
and allowing us to see through it, is thick and opaque. The vapor in the air has been condensed,
because the air around is cold. This condensed vapor is called fog."
"When the air all round is not cold, the vapor rises and floats away over our heads, and we do
not see it till it meets with the cold air above. This cold air condenses the vapor and forms a cloud."
"Then a fog and a cloud must be very much the same thing," said Norah, "except that the cloud is
high up in the sky and the fog low down near the ground."
"Yes, they are," said Willie. "People who travel over mountains often find themselves in the
midst of a dense cloud, and they walk through it just as we walk through a fog."
"I know now what clouds are," said Norah. "Often when we look up at the sky we can see
clouds, but I can't quite understand yet why the clouds send us rain."
"I think I can explain that," said Willie. "The clouds consist of vapor condensed into little
particles which are just able to float in the air. If a cloud passes through still colder air, the vapor
will condense still more, and the little particles will rush together, and form actual drops of water too
heavy to float in the air. Then they must fall to the earth as rain."
"Sometimes the drops are very small indeed, although too heavy for the air to hold. They fall as
extremely fine rain, which we call mist."
"You have not yet explained the dew on the grass," said Norah, "although you said the tumbler of
cold water told you all about it."
"This is the way teacher explains that to us," said Willie. "He says that often after a warm day
the air near the earth becomes suddenly cold at night. The evaporation is still going on rapidly, but as
the vapor is formed it is condensed on the cold surface of the ground, the grass, and the leaves of
plants, just as the vapor in the room condensed on the cold tumbler. This forms drops of dew."
SUMMARY
Invisible vapor is always rising from the earth. It becomes visible when it is condensed. If the air around us is cold the vapor
condenses into a fog. It usually rises and floats away before it condenses, and then forms a cloud. When the cloud condenses into actual
water, it drops as rain. Vapor condenses on the cold earth and forms dew.
 Lesson 15
Birds—Their Legs and Feet
"We had another lesson about birds to-day, Norah," said Fred, "and we are beginning to learn
how to arrange all birds in classes. As in the case of other animals, the feet have as much to do with it
as the head. We have been comparing the feet of birds today."

"Teacher commenced by showing us a picture of a large powerful leg and claw. The claw has
three strongly-jointed toes in front and one behind, and each toe is armed with a long, sharp, hooked
talon."
"He then showed us the picture of the heads of birds, and asked us which head would best suit
such a claw as this."
"Of course we had no trouble in telling him. The claw belonged to one of the birds of prey.
These are just the sort of feet we should have expected to find in a bird with such a cruel, fierce-
looking head and beak."
"Birds of this class pounce down suddenly with great force upon their prey, burying the sharp,
hooked talons deep in the flesh. They then raise themselves with their powerful wings and bear off
their victim to their nest to devour it, tearing it to pieces with beak and talons."
"We called them the lions and tigers of the air. They are also called seizers, and now you know
the reason for this name."
"Look at the canary, Norah," said Willie, who wanted to have a turn now, "he is asleep on his
perch. Don't you sometimes wonder how he can manage to sleep there without falling? It has puzzled
me many a time."
"Yes," said Norah, "it has puzzled me too. I should like to know all about it."
"Well," said Will, "the canary has the same kind of foot as we find in the sparrow, thrush, lark,
robin, and the hosts of little birds to be met with in our woods and fields."
"The foot has three long slender, jointed toes in front and a short one behind."
"None of these birds walk well on the ground. They go with little short hops; they do not walk.
Their long toes are made for grasping a twig, and not for walking on a flat surface. They live almost
entirely in the trees, where they are quite at home hopping from twig to twig."

"They sit or perch on the branch, and are called perchers. They even sleep like this, and could
not fall from their perch if they wished."
"How strange," said Norah. "Go on, Will, please."
"Teacher showed us the leg and foot of a fowl. He pointed out a flat white cord that runs up the
leg from the foot. When he pulled the cord the toes closed up, and when he let go, the toes stretched
themselves out again."
"He told us that all birds have this same strong cord up the leg. But in these perching birds the
cord passes up the leg and over the front of the knee-joint, to the thick part of the thigh. The very act
of sitting must of course bend the knee, and this pulls up the cord, and so draws the toes together
without any effort of the bird itself."
"The mere weight of the body resting on the legs does it all. The moment the knee bends, the toes
draw themselves up to clasp the branch, and they cannot unclasp it until the bird raises itself from its
perching position."
"Thank you, Will," said Norah. "That is certainly very wonderful."
SUMMARY
The birds of prey have strongly-jointed toes, with sharp hooked talons. They use them for seizing their prey. The perching-birds
have long, slender toes, for grasping the twigs. They rest securely on the branch by the mere bending of the knee.
 Lesson 16
Birds—More about Legs and Feet
"You remember our talk about the woodpecker, Norah?" said Fred.
"Oh yes," said Norah. "He lives on worms and grubs which eat their way into the woody stems
of the trees. He has a wonderful beak for boring into the trees, and a wonderful tongue for catching his
prey when he has found out where they are."
"Quite right," replied Fred. "Now try and remember something more. These birds live entirely in
the trees because their food is in the trees, and in the trees they are extremely nimble. You would be
surprised if you could see one of them run up the rough bark of a tree."

"Teacher showed us a picture of the woodpecker's foot. It has two toes in front and two behind.
Birds with such feet are never seen on the ground. They could only hobble about in a painful,
awkward way on a flat surface. But they can run up the rough bark of trees, or climb about the
branches with the greatest ease. We call the woodpecker a climbing bird, and the parrot is another
member of the same class."
 "Both birds, you see, live in the trees, and find their food in the trees, and both are fitted in every
way for the life they have to lead."
"Suppose we go and look at the fowls in the garden now. There they are scratching about on the
ash heap. What a mess they are making! Do you know why they are scratching? They are searching for
grubs and worms and whatever they can find."
"Let us look at their feet. The toes, you see, are short and thick and armed with strong blunt
claws. The legs too look strong, as if they were meant for hard work."
 "Teacher says these legs and feet are given them for scratching in the ground in search of food.
Birds of this kind are called scratchers."
"Fowls, pigeons, turkeys, pheasants, and partridges all find their food by scratching in the
ground. They are all scratchers."
"Teacher showed us a picture," said Will, "of a bird with extremely long, slender legs and feet.
The legs are so long that the bird looks as if it were on stilts. Teacher pointed out to us the long,
sharp, pointed bill, and we saw at once that this must be one of the fishing birds. The sharp bill is
meant to catch fish."
 "These birds always live near the water. Indeed, they walk or wade in the water in search of
their prey. We call them waders. Their long stilt-like legs are for this very purpose, and their long
necks are to enable them to strike at their prey in the water."
"The heron, crane, stork, and flamingo are all waders."
"There are, besides the waders, some other birds that live in and near the water," said Fred.
"These, however, don't walk in the water, they swim. They are made to swim. Do you know what
birds I mean, Norah?"
"You must mean ducks and geese and swans," said Norah, " for I have seen them swimming in
the lake in the park."
 "Let me tell you how it is these birds are able to swim so well," said Fred. "If you look at the
duck's foot you will see there is a skin or web stretched between the toes. We call it a webbed foot.
The webbed feet enable these birds to swim. They are the swimming birds. They swim in the water,
and with their shovel-like bills they find their food in the water."

"There are some birds, Norah," said Will, "that neither perch on the branches nor climb trees;
that neither wade in the water nor swim. In fact, they do not even fly. They can only run. We call them
runners. They are great birds."
 "The largest of them, the ostrich, is often seven feet high. They all have powerful legs for
running, but as they do not fly, they have no use for wings. The wings are always very small. The foot
has only two short thick toes. It is meant to be a solid support for the runner."
SUMMARY
Climbing-birds have two toes in front and two behind. They live entirely in the trees. The scratchers have strong, blunt claws for
scratching in the ground to find their food. The waders have long, stilt-like legs, for walking in the water. Their long necks and bills are to
enable them to reach their prey in the water. The feet of all swimming-birds are webbed. The runners have long legs, and short, thick,
solid toes.
 Lesson 17
Solid Water
"Look what I have got to show you." said Fred, as he came in from school.
"Why, it is a lump of ice," said Norah, "What are you going to do with that, Fred?"
"I am going to try and teach you something about the ice, as teacher taught us in our lesson this
morning. I'm going to be teacher tonight," said Fred.
"But where did you get the ice?" asked his sister. "You couldn't get it out of the ponds. The
weather is not cold enough."
"What has the cold to do with it?" asked Fred.
"It is the cold that changes the water into ice."
"Quite right," said Fred. "This ice is now a solid body. It is solid water. It was once liquid, like
all other water. Ice and water are the same substance in different forms. I asked Mr. Mabbs, the fish
dealer, to give me this piece of ice on my way home."
"Can you tell me any other substances you have seen in both the solid and liquid form?"
"Oh yes," she replied. "I've seen butter and dripping, wax and sugar, sulphur and lead in both
forms."
"How can we change a piece of butter into the liquid form?"
"We must heat it."
"How do we describe the change that takes place in the butter?"
"We say the butter melts."
"Teacher melted several substances during the lesson by heating them," Fred added. "But while
he was melting them he gave a boy the piece of ice to hold in his hand. When he asked the boy for the
ice he found it was all gone."
"Of course," said Norah, "the heat of the hand melted the ice."
"Quite true, but would the other substances have melted in the same way?"
"Butter would have melted in the hand, but the wax, sugar, sulphur, and lead would not have
melted."
"Why not?" asked Fred again.
"These substances require more heat than ice requires before they melt," said Norah.
"Now, I want you to think about some of the things you have seen melted," said Fred.
"What happens to them all if we stand them aside in the liquid form for a time?"
"They all become solid again," replied Norah. "We proved that by melting the wax and the lead
in the spoon. When they were taken away from the heat they became solid once more."
"Notice how easily the piece of ice melts in front of the fire. I will catch the water as it drops
from it in this saucer. Now if we stand this water aside, will it turn into ice again?"
"It will not turn into ice again here," said Norah. "It is not cold enough. But if we could put it
into a very cold place it would become solid ice again. We should say that the water had frozen."
SUMMARY
Ice is solid water. Heat will change this solid, like others, into liquid. Very little heat is wanted. Ice melts in the warm hand. The
liquid water would become solid again in a cold place.
 Lesson 18
Ice, Hail, and Snow
"I think we can find something more to say about ice," said Fred. "I seem to have learned ever so
much from our last lesson."
"Just you try and think about the frozen ponds in winter time, Norah. Where do we find the ice?"
"It covers the whole surface of the pond."
"But suppose we took a hammer and broke the ice on the surface. Should we find the whole of
the water in the pond solid ice?"
"No, the water is not frozen underneath."
"Can you tell me what would become of the pieces of ice as we broke them up?"
"They would float on the water."
"You are quite right. Teacher put a piece of ice in the water and we saw it float on the top. But
what does that prove?"
"It proves that the ice is lighter than the water," said Norah. "If it were heavier it would sink to
the bottom."
"Yes," said Fred, "ice is lighter than water, and it always forms on the surface. Even in a hard
frost there is only a sheet of ice covering the surface of the water, and when it breaks up we can see
the water below."
"Suppose for a moment that the ice were heavier than the water. It would sink to the bottom as it
formed, and the whole pond would in time be solid ice. What would become then of the fishes and
other creatures that live in the water?"
"Why, I suppose they would be frozen too, and die." said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred. "As it is, the ice protects the water from the cold. Without it the fishes
and water plants would all die."
"I was very much surprised to learn about the hail and snow," said Willie.
"All right, Will," said Fred. "Then suppose you have a turn, and tell us all you can remember
about them."
"Well, Norah, I suppose you know what hailstones are like?" said Willie.
"They are like little round balls of ice."
"But what do you think they really are?" he asked again. "They are nothing more than frozen
raindrops. You know the rain falls in little round drops."
"Teacher says that sometimes the raindrops, as they fall, have to pass through very cold air, and
they are frozen into round balls of ice before they can reach the earth. The little round balls of solid
water we call hail."
"Snow, too, is another form of solid water. You know that evaporation is constantly going on
everywhere. The vapor as it forms rises and makes clouds. The clouds we see in the sky are only
masses of vapor."
"Teacher says that sometimes the whole cloud of vapor becomes suddenly cold, and the tiny
particles of vapor are frozen. This frozen vapor is too heavy to float in the air. It falls to the earth as
snow."
SUMMARY
Ice is lighter than water. It floats on the top of the water. If it were not for this, fishes and plants would all die. Hail consists of
frozen rain-drops. Snow is frozen vapor.
 Lesson 19
A Snake
"I wish Norah could have been in our class today, Will, don't you?" said Fred. "I want to tell her
all about our lesson, but I don't think we could make her understand these animals without pictures of
them. I wish we had some of the pictures that teacher showed us at school."
Just then his father came in with something under his arm. "Look, children," said he, "what I have
got for you. I have been very pleased to see you take so much interest in your lessons, and I have
bought you this beautiful book of Natural History. It is full of pictures of animals, and I am sure it will
be very useful to you."
How they shouted, and clapped their hands, and kissed their good kind father! It was really a
sight worth seeing.
"You are a dear good father," said Fred, while the tears sparkled in his eyes. "This is the very
thing we wanted. Now we can get along beautifully."
"Go on then," said his father, "and as I have a little time to spare, I will sit and listen to you."
Fred began by turning to some of the pictures of snakes. He pointed out the strange form of this
new kind of animal—a creature with a very long body, but without the least sign of legs or limbs of
any sort.
"But you must not think," he added, "that these are sluggish, helpless animals, because they have
no limbs. They are all very quick and nimble in their movements. They are equally at home on the
ground or among the branches of trees, for they climb trees and dart from branch to branch with the
greatest rapidity."
 "But I can't see how they can move at all," said Norah, "without limbs. Other animals use their
limbs for moving about."
"Teacher made us understand it all today," replied Fred, "and I think I can make it clear to you."
"Look at this picture. It is the skeleton of the snake. That great bone which runs through the
whole length of the animal from head to tail is the backbone. Teacher showed us that this is not a good
name, for it is really a string of separate bones, and they are joined loosely together in a very
wonderful way."

"Each bone has a little round knob or ball in front, and a hollow cup or socket behind. The cup
of one ball fits into the socket of the next and forms what is known as a 'ball-and-socket' joint. Such a
joint makes the body very flexible, and enables the creature to bend and twist easily in all directions."

"Now let us look at the short curved bones arranged in pairs on either side of the backbone.
These are the ribs. I daresay you know that a man has a backbone and twelve pairs of ribs. Look what
a number of ribs this snake has. Some snakes have as many as 300 pairs of ribs."
"Teacher next pointed out to us that these ribs are all jointed to the backbone by ball-and-socket
joints, and that the lower end of each rib is free to move. They can move easily backwards, forwards,
sideways—in every direction."
"We will next turn for a moment to the picture of the snake itself. The body, you see, is covered
with scales, the one in front overlapping the one behind, so as to leave the hinder edge of all of them
free."
"The scales are hard and horny, and those on the under part of the body are larger than the rest.
These are joined to the lower ends of the ribs."
"Now, Norah, for your surprise. The snake moves about with these scales as if they were legs.
The ribs can move in any direction. When the snake wishes to move, therefore, it advances its ribs.
These carry with them the under scales. The scales take a firm hold of the ground or tree on which
they rest, and the body is drawn forward with a gliding movement. Isn't that all very wonderful,
sister?"
SUMMARY
Snakes have no limbs. They move on their ribs. They have many pairs of ribs. The skeleton is jointed with ball and socket joints.
The body is covered with scales.
 Lesson 20
How the Snake Feeds
"Shall we have another look at the snakes, Norah?" asked Fred.
"Oh do, please," said his sister. "I'll go and bring your new book."
"Well then," began Fred, as soon as they were seated, "suppose we talk about their habits of
feeding. Snakes are as curious in their feeding as in everything else."
"They all live on animals. Some of the smaller snakes prey upon frogs, mice, rabbits, and other
creatures they find on the ground. Some live almost entirely in the trees, and feed upon squirrels,
birds, and even monkeys. But they all feed in one way."
"Animals like the cat, the dog, and the mole also live on flesh."
"How could we find this out for ourselves, if we did not know?"
"We should examine the teeth of the animals," said Norah. "That would tell us."
"Ah, but the strangest part of the snake is," said Fred, "that it has no long canine teeth for tearing
flesh, and no sharp jagged teeth for cutting it through. The flesh-eaters have, but the snake has not.
Snakes are not flesh-eaters."
"Why, I thought you just now told me," said Norah, "that all snakes feed on flesh."
"Yes, dear," said Fred, "so I did. But snakes do not eat their prey as the flesh-eaters do. They
swallow them whole."
"Oh, how very dreadful," said Norah.
"Let us look again at the skeleton of the snake," said Fred. "The teeth, you see, in both jaws are
small and sharp-pointed, and they all bend backwards towards the throat."

"Such teeth would be useless for tearing flesh or for chewing purposes. They are meant to hold
the victim fast between the jaws while it is being drawn down the throat."
"But the most wonderful thing of all seems to be, that even the bones of the snake are made to
help in the work of swallowing. Every bone of the head—the upper jaw as well as the lower—is
movable. They are all jointed by ball-and-socket joints, and can be easily pushed out of their places.
You know that the separate bones of the back, and the ribs which join them, are all arranged on the
same plan, with ball-and-socket joints."
"Try to imagine a snake in the act of swallowing its prey. It takes a firm hold with the pointed
teeth of one jaw, and draws its victim in, and then proceeds to take a fresh hold with the teeth of the
other jaw. This action is repeated again and again, till the animal disappears down its throat, the
bones of head, mouth, and throat all the time moving out of their sockets to make room."
"After the animal is swallowed, the ribs and the bones of the back move aside in the same way,
to give more space for it in the stomach. Even the overlapping outer scales of the body do their part.
They readily slip aside to make more room, as the body of the snake expands with its meal."
"It is clear therefore that the snake swallows its prey whole, because every part of its body was
meant for this kind of feeding."
SUMMARY
The snake's teeth are small and sharp-pointed; they all bend backwards; they hold the victim as it is being swallowed. The snake
swallows its prey whole, because every part of its body is made for this kind of feeding.
 Lesson 21
Mercury
"We have had a lesson today on a new substance, Norah," said Fred. "It is a metal, but it is not
solid, like iron, copper, lead, or any of those which we have talked about before. It is a liquid."
"Teacher showed us some of it in a bottle. It flows about, and can be poured out like water. It is
a liquid metal. It is the only liquid metal that exists. Its name is mercury."
"I think I have some mercury in a bottle upstairs," said his father. "I will go and bring it down for
you; only be very careful with it."
Presently back father came with the bottle of mercury, and they were soon ready to start.
Fred poured some of it into a saucer, and pointed out its silvery white color and its bright
metallic lustre.
"Teacher says mercury never tarnishes when it is exposed to the air, but always keeps its bright
surface," said he.
"Now look what happens when I let fall a drop of the mercury on this slate. It breaks up at once
into an immense number of tiny round drops. If I tilt the slate ever so slightly, the little drops run about
rapidly over the slate."
"Then I suppose that is the reason why it is sometimes called quicksilver," said Norah.
"Yes, you are quite right," said Fred.
"Now, you shall take a saucer in each hand, while I pour the liquid metal into one and water into
the other. What do you notice?"
"I am surprised to find the mercury so heavy," said she.
"Yes," said Fred, "it is heavy. It is heavier than any of the metals we have seen, except gold.
Teacher says it is nearly fourteen times as heavy as water; gold is nineteen times as heavy as water."
"Can you tell me a property which all metals have?"
"All the metals are fusible," said Norah. "They all melt with heat, although they do not require
the same amount of heat."
"Gold, silver, copper, iron, and steel are all fusible," said Will, "but they require intense heat
before they will become liquid. Lead and tin we can melt for ourselves over the fire. They are more
easily fused than any of those metals."
"Quite right," said Fred. "But mercury, you see, is a metal—the only metal, which is always
melted, always in the liquid form, in this country."
"Remember, however, that in some very cold parts of the world mercury always becomes solid
in the winter. In its solid state it is malleable, and can be beaten and rolled out like other metals."
"I thought it was very curious to see teacher boil the mercury in the tube, as if it were water,"
said Will. "We saw the liquid metal boil, and we saw the vapor from it condense into tiny little
silvery balls, on the cool sides of the tube."
SUMMARY
Mercury is a liquid metal. It flows about, and readily breaks up into tiny drops. It is silvery-white, and has a bright metallic lustre. It
is nearly fourteen times as heavy as water.
 Lesson 22
The Poisonous Snakes
"I see you have your Natural History book under your arm, Fred," said Norah. "Have you got
something more to tell us about animals?"
"We have had another lesson about snakes today," said Will, "so I suppose Fred wants to have a
chat about them now."
The three were soon seated round the table, and then Fred began.
"Teacher explained to us that there are two kinds of snakes, which we may call the poisonous
and the non-poisonous snakes. Suppose we talk about the poisonous snakes first. Here is a picture of
one of them."
"If you look at it you will see, in front of the upper jaw, two long, curved, sharp-pointed teeth.
These we call the fangs. We cannot see them when the mouth is shut, for these teeth are movable, and
they are then drawn up, and lodged in the gum."

"We sometimes call them poison fangs, but this is not quite correct, for there is no poison in the
fangs themselves. Teacher showed us that the poison comes from two bags lodged in the back part of
the mouth."
"The fangs themselves are really hollow tubes, and when the snake is about to dart at its victim,
not only do the fangs show themselves, but the hollow tubes inside are filled with poison, which the
poison-bags pour into them for use."
"These snakes always approach their victim with a stealthy, gliding, noiseless movement, until
within striking distance. Then they suddenly dart forward like lightning, and one bite with those fangs
is quite enough."
"The sharp teeth not only make a wound, but at the same time they leave some of the poison in
the wound, and that soon kills the victim, or makes it insensible, so that the snake may gorge it at its
leisure."
"Now I want you to look at the snake in the picture once more. Notice the long forked tongue. If
you could see the animal alive, its tongue is never still. It is always on the move. It is the snake's
feeler."
"It is a curious thing that some people have thought this restless tongue to be poisonous. This is
not true; the tongue is quite harmless. The poison comes only from the bite of the fangs."
 "I am very glad," said Norah, "that there are so few poisonous snakes in the world."
"Ah," said Will, "but you are not quite right, Norah. We have a number of poisonous snakes in
this country, chief among them are the moccasin, copperhead, and rattlesnake. The moccasin and
copperhead are much more dangerous than the rattlesnake, for they strike whom they meet without
warning, while the whiz of the rattlesnake tells he is waiting."
"There are poisonous snakes in some countries much larger and much more to be feared than
ours," he continued. "In India and Africa are poisonous snakes known as vipers, which can raise up
and spread out the forward part of the body into a broad disk. The spectacled viper or cobra of India
is one of these. It has a black line resembling a pair of spectacles about the broad portion of its disk.
From this snake the jugglers of India draw out the fangs and then teach it to dance. The asp of Egypt is
also a viper which has been noted in history. By pressing this snake on the nape of the neck the
jugglers of Egypt used to throw it in an immovable position, which they called turning it into a rod."

"Here is a picture of one of our rattlesnakes. It gets its name from a sort of rattle which it has at
the end of its tail. The rattle is formed of a number of loose bones, which it shakes when it is angry."
SUMMARY
The poisonous snakes have two long fangs in the upper jaw, and poison-bags at the roots of them. Their bite either kills their victim
or makes it insensible. The forked tongue is harmless.
 Lesson 23
The Non-Poisonous Snakes
"I have been trying to think, Fred, which are the most terrible creatures, the poisonous snakes or
the others," said Will, "and I can't make up my mind."
"No, Will, I daresay not," replied Fred, "They are both very dreadful."
"But," said Norah, "I should think no creature could be a more fearful enemy than one of those
poisonous snakes. It has but to give a single bite with those awful fangs, and it is all over with its
victim."
"Wait a moment, while I get my book," said Fred, "There are some pictures of these non-
poisonous snakes which I want you to see."
"This one is called the boa constrictor, and this the python. They are huge serpents, and often
reach as much as forty, fifty, and even sixty feet in length."
"If we could see within their mouths, we should find no long sharp fangs, and no poison-bags,
for they do not kill their victims by biting them."
"Teacher says they coil themselves round the trunk of a tree, and lie in wait for some animal,
perhaps a horse, an ox, or a deer."

"They give one awful spring as soon as their victim gets within reach, and coil and twist
themselves round its body, with the suddenness of lightning. The poor creature at once finds itself
entirely within the power of its enemy; it has no chance of escape."
"Their enormous strength enables these snakes to crush their prey within the folds of their long
supple body, till flesh, bones, and all become a mangled mass. They then quietly uncoil themselves
and settle down to gorge their meal."
"Like all other snakes, they swallow their prey whole, their scaly skin stretching till it almost
bursts with the meal. They then creep away to some quiet spot and sleep till the pangs of hunger
awaken them, and send them out to look for another victim."
"We have some non-poisonous snakes in this country," said Will, "but they are small and quite
harmless. Here is a picture of a common snake. Black snakes are non-poisonous, and, it may amuse
you to know, they are the greatest enemies of the rattlesnake, with whom it is said they wage fierce
battles. Then we have milk snakes, bull snakes, the common garden snake, which likes to sun itself
under rose bushes and catch the insects attracted by the foliage. The black snake seeks high dry hills,
and curls itself upon boulders warmed by the summer sun. Most of the non-poisonous snakes seek the
lower lands, however, and not uncommonly make their home in damp woods and in banks by the
sides of ponds, where their favourite food, the frog, is to be found."
SUMMARY
The non-poisonous snakes have no poison fangs; many spring at their victim, wind their long bodies round it, and crush it to death.
Some of them are huge serpents, fifty and sixty feet long.
 Lesson 24
Mercury—Its Preparation and Uses
"What I had already learnt about the liquid metal, mercury," said Will, "made me glad when
teacher told us we were to have another lesson on it today. Our lesson has shown us how it is
obtained, and some of the uses we make of the metal. Shall I try and tell you about it, Norah?"
"Yes," said Norah, "please tell me all you can remember."
"Well then," he began, "mercury, like most metals, is usually met with in the form of ore. This
ore is known as cinnabar. It is dug out of deep mines in various parts of the world, and looks like a
rough, hard, brown stone, with very little metallic lustre. It contains besides the metal, mercury, a
large quantity of sulphur. The mercury and the sulphur must, of course, be separated. This is done in a
curious way."
"The ore is first broken up into small pieces, and mixed with quicklime. It is then put into large
retorts and heated. A retort, you know, is a closed vessel, with pipes leading from it."
"I think I can tell why this is done," said Norah. "The sulphur would soon melt into a liquid, and
boil, and then it would pass away along the pipes in the form of vapor."
"That's just it," said Will. "But we have already learned that the mercury too would boil and
pass away in vapor. This mercury vapor must not be lost. It is wanted."
"Some earthenware pipes are therefore fixed to the retorts, and the vapor is made to pass through
them. As these pipes are kept cool, the vapor condenses on the sides in little round, silvery balls, and
nothing more need be done than to collect them, and pour off the liquid metal ready for use."
"Suppose I tell you now," he continued, "some of the uses to which mercury is put."
"One of the most important uses is in separating gold and silver from the ores in which they are
found."
"You remember that gold is usually found in small grains in the midst of certain rocks. The rock
is crushed up very fine, and then mixed with mercury. It is a curious property of mercury that it will at
once unite with other metals if it is mixed up with them."
"The mercury in this case seizes upon the little grains of gold, but will not unite with the earthy
parts of the ore. The earthy parts are carefully washed away in shallow troughs leaving the heavier
metallic grains behind."
"These are easily collected, and all that remains is to heat them gently. The mercury flies off in
vapor with the heat, and is condensed and collected for further use. The grains of gold remain
behind."
"Mercury is also used for 'silvering' the backs of looking-glasses, and for various other
purposes."
SUMMARY
The ore from which mercury is obtained is a rough, brown stone, called cinnabar. It contains, besides the metal, a large quantity of
sulphur. It is broken up into small pieces and heated, and the sulphur passes away in vapor, leaving the liquid metal behind.
 Lesson 25
The Frog
"Come and see what we've got, Norah," said Fred.
"Oh, you dreadful boys," said Norah. "It's a nasty, ugly frog. I don't like frogs."
"But we had a fine lesson about the frog, Norah," said Will. "He's a poor, harmless, little
creature, and I am sure you would like to know something about him, although I am bound to say he is
not very handsome. See what you can find to tell her about him, Fred; and here, I've got your picture
book all ready."
"Well, just look at him as he sits there," said Fred. "His great, broad head, wide mouth, and
goggle eyes seem exactly suited to his broad, squat, ungainly body, and I must say Norah is right. He
certainly is ugly. At least I can't call him good-looking."
"Then, too, compare his long hind legs with his little, short forelegs. They look awkward as he
sits there, but see, when I put him on the ground, what good use he makes of those strong, hind legs in
leaping."

Norah gave a little scream as the frog leaped towards her, but the boys soon had him again safe
enough.
"Look at his feet, Norah," said Fred. "The hind feet have five toes and are webbed. What does
this tell us?"
"The animal is made to swim," said Norah. "I have often watched the frogs swimming; they seem
quite at home in the water."
"Poor little thing," she added, "he sits quiet enough," and then she thought she would venture to
stroke him. But Mr. Frog was not used to these little attentions, and he leaped away.
 She gave a shudder as her hand touched his cold, clammy body. In fact she had hardly got over
her fright when Fred came back again with him in his hand. He told her that the frog's skin is always
cold, and covered with a slimy fluid.
If a frog were put into a dry place, the skin would quickly shrink and become stiff, and the
animal would die. The skin is very porous, and absorbs water like a sponge.
"Now," he added, "I think I had better tell you about the frog and his food. If we could see inside
his mouth, we should find that the upper jaw contains a row of sharp pointed teeth, and there are no
teeth in the lower jaw."
"But the tongue is more wonderful than the teeth. Instead of springing from the back of the mouth,
as the tongues of most animals do, his tongue has its root in front, and points backward towards the
throat. He can when he wishes throw the tongue forward a long way beyond the mouth."
"He preys on living insects—slugs, grubs, worms, and snails. He swallows his prey whole. The
sharp teeth in the upper jaw are to help him to hold his slippery prey, while he swallows them. They
are not meant for chewing or tearing."
"But his great tongue is his fly-trap. It is always covered with a thick, slimy fluid. As sure as a
fly comes within reach, the slimy tongue darts forward like lightning, and never misses its prey."
SUMMARY
The frog can live in the water as well as on the land. His hind feet are webbed for swimming. His body is always cold. He has
teeth in the upper jaw only. The root of his tongue is in front; he can throw it forward a long way, to catch the insects and grubs, which
are his food.
 Lesson 26
Air
"Norah, hand me the water bottle, please," said Fred. "Be careful; it is full of water. Thank you.
Now, if I poured the water out of the bottle, what would you say about the bottle then?"
"I should say the bottle would be empty," said Norah.
"Ah, that's just what I should have said till today," said Fred. "But it is not empty. Is it, Will?"
"Teacher proved to us that the bottle is not empty," he added. "He had a bottle which looked to
be empty, and he pressed it, mouth downwards, as far as he could, into a large bowl of water."
"While he held it there, he made us notice that the water would not enter very far into the mouth
of the bottle. The water in the neck of the bottle was not so high as the water in the basin outside."
"He told us that if the basin were deep enough, we might press the bottle down ever so far, but it
would not be possible to fill it with water."
"Yes, but he did fill it though at last," said Will. "He slanted the bottle on one side, and then there
was a gurgling sound, and the water rushed in."
"What do you think made the gurgling sound, Norah?" asked Fred. "Watch, while I do it now
with this bottle. As I slant the bottle in the basin of water, something seems to come bubbling up out of
it through the water, and now we can see that the bottle is full of water."
"That something that bubbled up was air. It was the air in the empty bottle that prevented the
water from rising to fill it. The water could not enter the bottle, because it was already full of
something else, and that something else was air."
"This proves that air is an actual substance, although we cannot see it. It occupies all the space
of the bottle, and so long as it is in the bottle, the other substance, water, cannot enter."
"But," said Willie, "there is just one other thing to remember about the bottle. The water did
enter a little way into the neck of it when you pressed it down. That proves that you were able to
press the air into a smaller space. Teacher says air is compressible."
"Then, too, when you left off pressing the bottle down, the air in it sprang back to its former
bulk, and the water that had entered the neck was forced out again. This proves that air is elastic."
SUMMARY
Air is an actual substance, although we cannot see it. There is air everywhere. Air occupies space, and is compressible.
 Lesson 27
More about the Frog
"Have you got over your dislike for the poor little frog, Norah?" asked Fred. "We have been
learning some wonderful things about him today. Would you like to know how he breathes? It is all
very strange."
"Yes," said Norah, "I should like to hear all about it."
"Well," said Fred, "before you can understand the breathing of the frog, I must make you think
about the way in which we and most of the animals around us breathe."
"You can feel the ribs, which, pass right round the upper part of your body. They form a sort of
airtight box, which we call the chest. The chest holds the lungs, and the lungs are the breathing
organs."
"Our ribs are constantly rising and falling. You can feel them rise and fall, if you put your hand
on your chest. When they rise they make the chest larger, and the lungs inside expand; when they fall
they make it smaller, and squeeze the lungs together again. As the lungs expand air rushes in at the
mouth and nostrils to fill them, and when they are pressed together the air is driven out. All this goes
on without any effort on our part, and this is the way we breathe. The great thing for us to remember is
that the frog has no ribs, and cannot therefore breathe in this way."

"He must have air, however, and he is compelled to swallow it in gulps. He closes the mouth,
and sucks up a quantity of air through the nostrils, swallowing each draught with a special effort. He
cannot take in much air in this way, but he is assisted in breathing by his moist, porous skin, which
also absorbs a small quantity of air."
"During the winter, when flies and grubs are not to be found, the frog betakes himself to the
bottom of the pond, scoops out a hole for himself in the mud, and there sleeps till the frost and snow
have gone."
"All this time his skin has to do the entire work of breathing by taking in air from the water, for
the frog cannot breathe under water with his lungs any more than we could."
"Teacher showed us that, even with lungs and skin too, the frog takes in very little air, so little,
indeed, that it is not enough to warm his blood. The blood is always cold. We call the frog a
coldblooded animal."
 "This explains why the body is not provided with a warm coat, for there is no need to keep the
heat in. It has nothing but a naked skin, which always feels cold and clammy to the touch."
SUMMARY
The frog has no ribs; he does not breathe as we do. He shuts his mouth, sucks the air up through his nostrils, and swallows it in
gulps. The frog can breathe through his moist skin. He spends all the winter in the mud at the bottom of the pond. His blood is always
cold.
 Lesson 28
More about the Air
"You remember our talk about the water bottle and the basin of water, Norah?" asked Fred.
"What did we learn from it?"
"We learned that air is an actual substance, and that it takes up space although we cannot see it.
The bottle was full of air, and that was why the water would not go in. When you slanted the bottle the
air bubbled out, and the water went in."
"That's very good," said Fred, "and you must remember that there is air everywhere—in every
nook and corner. What we call 'empty' is really 'full of air.'"

"Teacher showed us a machine called an air-pump today. It will remove the air from a vessel
and make it really 'empty.' He showed us too an 'empty' square box, a foot across each way, and of
course it was full of air. He said that if he could pump all that air out, the box would weigh just an
ounce less than it did at first. Can you tell me what that proves?"
"It proves that all the air in the box would weigh an ounce." said Norah.
"Yes, that's quite right," said Fred, "and so now you know that air, like every other substance,
has weight."
"Now I want you to look carefully. I will fill this tumbler under the water, and then turn it upside
down in the basin. The water stands in the tumbler, and does not run out into the basin. The reason is
that the air in the room is pressing down on the water in the basin, and this prevents the water in the
tumbler from flowing out."
"We know then that air presses downwards."
"Teacher showed us another very clever thing. I've tried, but I can't do it yet. He filled the
tumbler quite full of water, covered it with a piece of writing-paper, and then turned it upside down.
When he took his hand away there was the paper, but the water did not run out of the glass."
 "Teacher says the air in the room was pressing upwards against the paper. It must have pressed
hard, for the whole weight of the water in the tumbler was resting on the paper, and yet it didn't fall
out."
"This proves then that air presses upwards."
"Look now at my leather sucker. I make it hold to the stone, because I press out every particle of
air between them. It holds because the air outside it is pressing it to the stone. If I try it on this slate, it
does not matter whether I hold the slate level, place it against the wall, or sideways, the sucker will
hold. The air in each case presses it against the slate."

"Now we know then that air presses with equal force upwards, downwards, sideways, and in all
directions."
SUMMARY
A square box, a foot across each way, holds one ounce of air. Air presses with equal force downwards, upwards, sideways, and in
all directions.
 Lesson 29
The Frog and the Toad Compared
"Fred, can you tell me the difference between frogs and toads?" asked Norah. "They seem to me
to be so much alike that I am sure I could not tell one from the other."
"I think I can make it clear to you, Norah," said Fred. "We had a good lesson about these animals
this morning."
"First, then, the toad is larger and more clumsily built than the frog. Its legs too are shorter, so
that it cannot leap so far as the frog. The frog's hind legs are usually quite four inches long, and he
leaps with these long legs. The toad's leap is only a very short jump. It is slow and awkward in its
movements. The toad's feet are not webbed, so that it is not such a good swimmer as the frog. It lives
mostly on land, and goes to the water only in the spring to lay its eggs."
"Then, too," said Will, "it is easy to tell a toad from a frog by the look of its skin. A frog has a
smooth skin, but a toad's skin looks as if it were covered with thick warts or pimples. The frog's skin
is either a greenish-yellow or brown above, and yellowish-white on the under parts. The general
color of the toad's warty skin is a blackish-gray, with an olive-green tint. The under parts are yellow.
Frogs and toads both have moist skins, but the toad can throw out over its skin a white liquid which
has a most unpleasant smell."

"Many people used to say," said Fred, "that this liquid was a deadly poison, and because of that,
no poor animal has been so cruelly treated as the toad. It is not poisonous, but it will make the tender
skin smart if it touches it, and even a dog will quickly drop a toad if he takes one up in his mouth. I
saw old Ponto do it once, and didn't he howl and shake himself."
"The frog has teeth in the upper jaw," said Will, "but the toad has no teeth at all. It has, however,
a pair of well-grown ears, which the frog never has."
"The toad, like the frog, is a most useful animal in the garden. It preys upon grubs and vermin of
all kinds—slugs, caterpillars, earwigs, beetles, worms— nothing comes amiss. Before winter
approaches the toad leaves off eating, and hides itself away in a hole in the wall, or under a stone,
where it lies torpid till the frost and snow are all gone."
"Do you know, Norah," asked Fred, "that the little newts, or efts, or effets, which we find
sometimes in the ponds and ditches, are all animals of the same kind as the frog and the toad? The
newts, however, have tails, which frogs and toads never have."
SUMMARY
The toad is larger, more clumsily built, and more awkward in its movements than the frog.
The frog is a swimmer. Its hind feet are webbed.
The frog has a smooth skin.
The frog has teeth in the upper jaw.
The frog leaps on his long hind legs.
The frog spends much of its time in the water.
The toad has no web between its toes.
The toad has a rough, warty skin.
The toad has no teeth.
The toad moves slowly, with short jumps.
The toad goes to the water only in the spring to lay its eggs.
 Lesson 30
Gases
"I want you to think about the air again, Norah." said Fred.
"Oh yes," she cried, "we found out that air is an actual substance, which takes up space and has
weight, like all other bodies."
"We have talked about solid bodies and liquids," Fred went on, "but air is a thin, light substance,
which we cannot even see. It is not like either a solid or a liquid."
"Teacher says there are many substances that are like air and differ from both solids and liquids.
He turned on the gas-burner to show us one of them. There was nothing to be seen, but we could hear
something rushing out of the pipe, and we soon smelt it, and we saw it catch fire when teacher put a
match to it."
"Oh, you mean the gas," said Norah.
"Yes, but its proper name is coal-gas, because it is made from coal," said Willie.
"All thin, light bodies like these," said Fred, "are called gases. Air is a gas, and the invisible
vapor in the air is a gas—water-gas. Gases and liquids are alike in some things, but they differ in
others."
"What happens when we turn on the faucet over the sink?"
"The water runs out," said Norah, "because liquids flow."
"Can you tell me then why the gas rushed out when teacher turned the burner on?"
"Well, I suppose it is because the gas flows along the pipes," said Norah.
"Quite right," said Fred, "it does, and so gases and liquids both flow."
"If you pick up the bellows and set them to work," said Will, "you will soon find that air flows,
and you know, too, that the wind is only air rushing along."
"Teacher made a gas, called carbonic acid gas," said Fred. "We had to take his word that the gas
was in the bottle, for we could not see it. But it was very funny to see him pour it out like water from
one vessel into another."
"But I thought you said the gas was invisible," said Norah.
"So it is," replied Fred. "But teacher held a lighted taper between the two vessels, and told us to
watch while he poured out the gas. This is a gas in which no flame could live, and although we could
not see it flow from one vessel to the other, we saw it put out the light as it flowed."
"So then a gas is like a liquid, because they both flow."
"Now think again. We catch water as it flows from the faucet. Could teacher have caught the gas
in a pail as it flowed from the burner? No, it would be impossible to catch the gas, because gases
always spread themselves out rapidly in all directions. Teacher says gases differ from liquids in
having no surface."
"Oh yes," said Norah, "and liquids always keep a level surface."
SUMMARY
Gases are fluids—they flow. Liquids always keep a level surface, but gases have no surface. They spread themselves out in all
directions.
 Lesson 31
The Frog—Its Life History
"Suppose my frog could talk, Norah, would you like him to tell you his history?"
"I should like it very much," said Norah.
"Then just shut your eyes and imagine me to be the frog. Listen to my story."
"'I have not much to thank my mother for. The first thing I remember was that I was a tiny thing,
with a big head and a long, flat, waving tail. I found myself swimming about in the water. I had just
come out of an egg, which my mother had laid in the water. In fact, that's all I know about my mother,
for, as I told you, I never had a mother's care. People called me a tadpole."
"'Well, there I found myself, and I couldn't make out what I was. I was not a fish, although I had
gills for breathing in the water, just as fishes have."
"'Presently I began to feel hungry, and it seemed quite natural for me to go to the water-plants
and nibble off the soft shoots. I did not wish for any other food, and my mouth seemed made on
purpose for this, for it was placed not in front of my head, but under my chin, if you can make that
out."

"'It was not a bad sort of life on the whole. I enjoyed myself very well, but I had to be always
dodging the big hungry fishes, who wanted to make a meal of me."
"'Well, this sort of thing went on for about six or eight weeks, when one day I began to be very
frightened. I thought I must be growing deformed in some way, for I found two humps forming, one on
each side of my tail."
"'Day by day these humps grew, and presently two others began to show just behind my head."
"'This was alarming, but it was nothing compared with my horror at finding that my beautiful
waving tail was shrinking and wasting away by degrees,"
"'Day by day I swam about trying to make the best of it, when at last my tail went altogether. It
dropped off."
"'But by this time those humps at the sides of it had formed into a pair of beautiful long legs, and
feet with webbed toes, just made for swimming. The other humps in front, too, had grown into another
pair of legs, so that I found myself with four limbs, just as you see me now."
"'My head and body had also grown larger and broader. Besides this, as my head took a more
respectable, frog-like shape, my mouth became large and broad, and changed places to the front of my
head, where it is now."
"'Two things then happened. First I went quite off my appetite; that is to say, I couldn't eat those
green shoots of the water-plants any longer. I seemed to have a craving for animal food."
"'At the same time I felt that I was being stifled. My gills had wasted away entirely, and now I
could no longer breathe in the water. Something—I can't tell what it was—prompted me to leave the
water, and as soon as I got on the bank by the pond, I found I could breathe air, for I had lungs instead
of gills."
"'Just then a small beetle ran past me. I was only a very little fellow then, but I pounced upon it
like lightning, and swallowed it in a moment."
"'I never felt so savage before, but I've made many a good meal since then on grubs, insects,
worms, and slugs."
"'As I grew larger and larger my skin from time to time split, and I always tore it off with my
paws, and swallowed it every bit. There was each time a new one underneath to fit me.'"
SUMMARY
The frog comes from an egg laid by its parent at the bottom of the water. The egg rises to the surface, and is hatched by the heat
of the sun. It begins life as a tadpole, with no limbs; it breathes by means of gills, like a fish, and feeds upon the green shoots of the
water-plants. It passes through various stages, and undergoes many changes for about six or eight weeks. At the end of that time it
leaves the water as a fully-developed frog, with lungs, not gills; with four limbs, but no tail; and with even its feeding instincts changed.
The frog feeds upon worms, grubs, and insects.
 Lesson 32
Coal-Gas
"We have been learning more about coal-gas today, Norah," said Willie. "Let us call Fred in and
have a chat about it."
Fred came in, and began by asking Norah to tell all she could remember about this gas.
"It is an invisible gas," she said. "It has a powerful and unpleasant smell, and it burns with a
bright flame."
"You should have been with us in school," said Fred. "Teacher showed us another property of
this coal-gas. He had a soda-water bottle, filled with a mixture of air and coal-gas."
"Oh yes," said Norah, "I remember. When the cork is pulled out and the light is brought near, the
gas explodes with a great bang. You told me about it when we were talking about coal."
"So I did," said Fred. "I am glad you remember all about it. Teacher told us that sometimes
people are careless, and leave one of the gas-burners turned on, so that the gas escapes into the room.
Then we have all the materials ready for an explosion on a terrible scale. All that is wanted is a
light."
"You must never take a light into a room if you can smell gas. You are quite safe without a light,
no matter how much gas has escaped."
"Go in, open the doors and windows, and the gas will soon pass away out of the room into the
open air, and fresh air will take its place. Then, and not till then, will it be safe to get a light, and find
out where the gas is escaping."
"You remember the fire-damp in the mine," said Willie.
"Oh yes," said Norah. "The coal gives of this gas in great quantities."
"Teacher says that this gas is really the same as the coal-gas we are speaking about, and when it
mixes with the air in the mine it becomes terribly explosive."

"I daresay you remember the Davy Lamp which the miners use," said Fred. "Teacher has got one,
and he showed us what it is that makes it safe for burning in the mine."
"He held a piece of wire gauze two or three inches above the gas-burner, and turned on the tap.
Of course the gas passed up through the gauze. When he put a light near, the gas took fire above the
gauze, but it did not burn at all below it."
"In the Davy Lamp, you know, the flame is shut in with this wire gauze. The explosive gas, if
there is any in the mine, passes through into the lamp and burns round the flame, but the flame itself
cannot pass out through the gauze, and so the air in the mine is safe from explosion."
SUMMARY
Coal-gas is invisible. It has a powerful, unpleasant smell, and it burns with a bright flame. It is very explosive if mixed with air.
This is the fire-damp of the coal-mine. The Davy lamp is safe, because, although the explosive gas can enter through the gauze, and burn
round the flame, the flame itself cannot pass out through the gauze.
 Lesson 33
A Fish
"You know, Norah," said Fred, "that a man, a dog, or a rabbit would die if held under water, and
that a fish dies as soon as it is taken out of the water. But don't you think it is very strange that both die
from the same cause? They both suffocate. One cannot breathe in the water, the other cannot breathe
out of it. Teacher has been helping us to understand how a fish can live and breathe in the water."

"He had a fresh herring for the lesson, and as mother has bought some for supper, I asked her to
let me have one to show you."
"Here it is. Now look at these long slits, just behind the jaws. Lift up one of them, and inside you
will see the red gills. The gills are the lungs of the fish, for fishes have no lungs such as we have.
Fishes cannot live without breathing air any more than we can. We breathe by means of lungs, the fish
by means of gills."
"But I can't see how a fish can breathe air," said Norah, "while it is living and moving about in
the water."
"Ah," said Fred, "that is the wonderful part of it. You remember that water is porous, and that it
absorbs air. Water, in fact, always contains air. The fish lives by robbing the water of some of the air,
which it breathes in through its gills."
"If you notice a fish swimming in the water, you will see that it is constantly opening and shutting
its mouth, as if it were drinking. It is not drinking. It takes the water into its mouth, but only to pass it
backwards over the gills, and so out again through the slits at the sides."
"Teacher explained what all this means. He pointed out the redness of the gills, and he told us
that, if our eyes were sharp enough, we should find these gills crowded with tiny blood-vessels. It is
the blood in these vessels which gives the gills their red color."
"Every time the fish takes in water through its mouth, and pours it over the gills, the blood in the
little vessels sucks up as much of the air as it can get from the water."
"This is the creature's way of breathing."
SUMMARY
The fish breathes by means of gills. The gills are placed just behind the jaws. They look red, because of the blood which is flowing
through them. The fish takes in water at its mouth, and passes it over the gills. The water contains air in its pores. The gills suck this air
out of the water.
 Lesson 34
More about Coal-Gas
"Teacher made some coal-gas for us at school today, Norah," said Willie, "and it brought to my
mind one of our very early lessons. Do you remember that we once made some gas in one of father's
long clay pipes?"
"Yes, of course I do," said Norah, "and when you put a match to the stem of the pipe the gas
burned there as it came out."
"Teacher made some gas in this way, only ever so much better than we could do it. Suppose we
tell you all about it," said Will.
"Well," said Fred, "teacher had a long clay pipe filled with coal broken very fine, and closed up
with clay just as we had. He fixed the bowl of the pipe over the flame of a gas-burner standing on the
table. He turned the stem of the pipe so as to make the end of it dip into a bowl of water."
"He then filled a glass tube with water, and turned it upside down in the basin, taking care to
keep the mouth of the tube below the surface of the water, and just over the end of the pipe stem. The
water did not run out of the tube, but remained in it, while he held it there."

"Presently, as the bowl of the pipe got red-hot, the gas began to come out of the stem, and you
should have seen what took place then. The gas rose through the water in little bubbles, and the
bubbles ran up the tube one after another. As they ran up, the water began to flow out of the tube into
the basin. In a little while it was all gone, and the tube was full of gas instead."
"Yes, and we knew it was really the coal-gas," said Will, "because when teacher took the tube
out of the water and put a light to the mouth of it, it took fire and burned."
"Teacher says this is just the way the gas is made at the great gas-works."
"Instead of the bowl of the pipe with its pinch of coal-dust, they have large, strongly-built,
closed chambers called retorts, made of firebrick and iron, each one holding nearly a quarter of a ton
of coal."
"Instead of the stem, they have long iron pipes, and instead of the little glass tube, they have
enormous iron gas-holders, many times bigger than our school."
SUMMARY
To make coal-gas, the coal is heated in closed retorts, and the gas and smoke are allowed to pass away by long pipes, into great
receivers, to be purified. The cinders left from the burning are coke.
 Lesson 35
More about the Fish
"I want you to think again about the fish and its breathing, Norah," said Fred. "It gets its air from
the water. Now it is quite clear that it cannot get as much air in this way as lung-breathing animals
can. We live and move about in an ocean of air itself. Now just tell me how you feel when Will and I
give you a good long 'pepper' with your jumping-rope."
"I get out of breath and very hot; I breathe very rapidly," said Norah.
"That's quite right," said Fred. "You then breathe in more air than usual. Our bodies are always
warmer or colder according to the amount of air we breathe in."
"Fishes take in so little air by their gill-breathing that it is not enough to warm their blood or
their bodies. They are always cold. We call them coldblooded animals."
"Teacher showed us," said Willie, joining in, "that this is why fishes are never clothed in wool,
fur, or feathers, or even with a thick hide. They have no heat in their bodies to keep in, and they have
no need of a thick warm coat."
"That's right, Will," said Fred. "I wanted to talk about their clothing next. Think of the herring
and its shiny silvery-looking coat. But the coat kept coming off on my fingers while I was showing
you the herring's gills, Norah."
"What do you mean, Fred?" asked Norah. "Do you mean those little round scales that you had all
over your hands? Are they the herring's coat?"
"Yes, they are. Teacher says the fish is really encased in a coat of mail. Next time you see a fish,
run your finger along its body from head to tail, and you will find it very smooth; then run it back
again to the head, and the scales will ruffle up."
"Each scale is fixed into the skin in front only; the rest of the scale is loose and overlaps the next
one behind it. As the fish moves through the water every scale is pressed closer and closer to its
body, and there is nothing to hinder its movements."
"Why, that's almost exactly like the feathers on the bird's body," said Norah. "They all point
backwards, so that the bird shall have nothing to hinder its flight through the air."
"That's a good girl," said Fred. "Now I will tell you one thing more about the coat of the fish.
You know if you take a fish in your hand it feels slimy and slippery. Teacher says the fish sends out
over its body a slimy oil, which helps it to glide smoothly and easily through the water."
SUMMARY
Fishes have cold blood, because they can take in only small quantities of air by means of their gills. They do not want a warm
coat. Their clothing is formed of scales. Each scale is fixed into the skin in front only. The scales overlap one another, press close to the
body, and help the fish in its movements.
 Lesson 36
Balloons
"I little thought," said Willie, "where teacher was going to lead us when he asked us to tell him
all we could of the uses of coal-gas. Did you, Fred?"
"No, that I certainly didn't," said Fred. "It was easy to think of the use we make of it for lighting
and heating purposes. But when teacher said he was going to talk to us about balloons, I began to
wonder what balloons had to do with coal-gas."
"Why, of course," said Norah, "they can have nothing to do with it."
"Don't you be too sure, little girl," said Fred. "You had better wait a bit."
"Even then," said Will, "I couldn't make out how we were going to get any nearer to it with that
cork and the basin of water."
"Oh, do tell me all about it," said Norah. "I don't like puzzles."
"Well then," said Fred, "teacher held a cork at the bottom of the bowl of water, and then let go."
"Yes," said Norah, "and of course the cork rose to the top of the water."
"Ah, but why did it rise?" asked Fred. "Would a stone rise?"
"The cork rose," said Norah, "because it is lighter than the water; the water pushed it up. The
stone is heavier than the water and sinks to the bottom."
"That was all teacher wanted us to see," said Fred, "and then he went back to the balloon. You
remember seeing the men send the balloon up in the park last summer. It rose up through the air as
easily as the cork rose through the water. What does that prove?"
 "I suppose," said Norah, "it proves that the balloon is lighter than the air. But I can't see how that
can be, for there was a car hanging from it, and there were two men in the car."
"Well, it certainly was lighter than the air," said Fred, "or it would never have risen and floated
away as we saw it. Let us find out what made it light."
"That great silk bag which we call the balloon was filled with coal-gas, and coal-gas is only
about half as heavy as air. When the great bag is full of this gas, therefore, it is not only able to rise in
the air itself, but it is able also to carry up with it car and men too."
SUMMARY
Balloons float in the air, because they are filled with coal-gas, which is only about half as heavy as the air. The dense, heavy air
forces the balloon up, just as water forces a cork to its surface.
 Lesson 37
How The Fish Moves
"Teacher has been showing us today," said Fred, "how well the fish is fitted in every way for its
life in the water. He showed us the herring again, and made us notice how the very shape of its body
helps its movements. It is big in the middle and tapers to a sharp point both ways. It is just the shape
to enable it to cleave its way through the water with the greatest ease."
"I remember the bird's body is built on much the same plan," said Norah, "and for the same
purpose."
"He next showed us the backbone of a herring, and broke the little bones in it apart to let us see
how they are joined to each other. Each little bone has a hollow socket on both sides, and they are
joined by the rim of one socket fitting closely to the rim of the next, so as to form a hollow ball
between the two. ""I've got a backbone like it here. Look at it while I separate the bones, and you will
understand it all. It is quite different from the backbone of the snake, the bird, or the rabbit. It makes
the body of the fish very flexible; it can turn and twist easily in the water."

"Yes, but how does the fish move along?" asked Norah. "It has neither legs nor wings. It has no
limbs of any sort."
"That's just what I am coining to next," said Fred. "If you look at a herring you will see several
pairs of fins. First there is a pair, one on each breast, just behind the gills. These are the breast fins."
"Then there is another pair on the under part of the body—the belly fins. Teacher says these four
answer to the four limbs of land animals."
"Besides these there is generally a large fin on the back, and one more under the body near the
tail."
"But the largest and most important of all is the broad upright fin at the end of the body. This is
the caudal fin or tail fin."
"But why is this one the most important, Fred?" asked Norah.
"Well, it is this tail fin that really does the work of moving the fish through the water," said Fred.
"The others are useful to balance the body and guide it as it moves."
SUMMARY
The shape of its body, pointed both ways, helps the fish in its movements. The separate bones of the backbone have little hollow
cups, or sockets, on both sides. The edges of the cups fit together; this makes the body very flexible. The fish uses its tail as its propeller,
to move it through the water. The other fins are to balance its body.
 Lesson 38
Tar
"You know, Norah, that if you watch a piece of coal burn, you will see some thick, yellow smoke
come from it, as well as the blaze," said Fred.
"Yes," said Will, "and it was just the same when teacher was making the gas for us in the
tobacco pipe the other day. The first thing we saw was some of this same thick yellow smoke, which
came puffing out from the stem."
"It seems very wonderful to me," said Fred, "how one lesson leads up to another. We have
learned a great many new things today by only thinking over the lesson on gas-making."
"Just picture to yourself the great retorts in the gas-works. Not only gas, but dense masses of
thick smoke are given off by the coal as it burns in them. The long pipes leading from them pass into
great tanks of water."
"Everything, therefore, smoke as well as gas, must pass through the water."
"The gas is lighter than the water, and it bubbles up to the surface and is carried off, to be
collected into the great gasometers. The water condenses the smoke, and it falls to the bottom of the
tank as a thick black liquid."
"What do you think this is, Norah? It is tar. I had no idea what tar was till today. I am glad I
know."
"Father has given me some tar in this old cup. Let us look at it. It is a thick, black, shiny, sticky
liquid, something like molasses to look at. It has a powerful smell and a bitter taste."
"Look what happens if I put a drop of it on my hand. I cannot rub it off. I cannot wash it off.
Some grease or turpentine will remove it, because tar is soluble in fat and turpentine, but it is
insoluble in water."
"If I drop a little in this glass of water you will see that it sinks to the bottom. It will not mix with
the water. It is heavier than the water. You know I told you that the people at the gas-works always
find the tar at the bottom of the tank."
"Now watch while I dip this piece of stick in the tar and set light to it. It sends off dense clouds
of smoke and blazes up in an instant. It is very inflammable."
"As you know this, I don't think it will surprise you to hear what I am now going to tell you. If tar
is heated in a closed retort, some of it rises and passes away in the form of vapor."
"The vapor is carried along pipes into a cool chamber called a condenser. As it condenses it
forms a new liquid, which is very highly inflammable, and is used for lighting purposes. It is called
coal-naphtha."
"That which is left behind in the retort is the solid substance which we call pitch."
"What a wonderful substance coal is after all," said Norah.
SUMMARY
Smoke, as well as gas, is given off from the burning coal at the gas-works. It is all made to pass through water. The gas is very
light, and rises to the surface to be carried away in pipes. The smoke is heavy, and sinks to the bottom as tar. Tar is a thick, black, heavy
liquid, something like molasses. It has a powerful smell and a bitter taste. It is insoluble in water. It is very inflammable. Coal-naphtha and
pitch are got from tar.
 Lesson 39
The Fish and its Food
"Isn't there something else you would like to learn about the fishes, Norah?" asked Fred.
"Well," said his sister, "I've been looking at the fishes in your picture book, and I find that they
all have small, sharp, pointed teeth in both jaws. There are a great many of them, but they don't seem
to be meant either for tearing or chewing. I should like to know what food the fish feeds upon, and
how it feeds."
"Then suppose we have a closer look at the teeth," said Fred. "The teeth are, as you say, simply
little sharp spikes, but they all point backwards towards the throat. Where have we seen teeth like this
before?"

"The snakes have teeth just like this," said Norah. "They feed upon animals, and swallow their
prey whole."
"Fishes," said Fred, "feed on one another, and they too swallow their prey whole without
waiting to chew it. They are very fierce and greedy, and from the largest to the smallest, prey upon
and devour each other. They hunt their prey through the water as the lion, tiger, and other fierce flesh-
eaters hunt theirs on the land."
"This explains," said Willie, "why they are made for easy and rapid movement through the water.
At one time they are the hunters, at another they are the hunted prey."
"The backward pointed teeth are meant to seize the prey," said Fred. "They must be strong
enough also to hold the struggling, slippery victim fast, while the work of swallowing goes on."
"There is just one other thought, Norah," Fred continued. "All fishes come from eggs. Next time
you get a herring, open it and take out the roe. If it is a hard roe, you will see that it consists of an
immense number of little grains or balls. Each of these is a tiny egg, and would have become a fish."
"I daresay you are thinking, 'What an immense number of eggs from one single fish!' So it is, but
let me tell you that these eggs, after the spawning, are the favorite food of many water animals."
"Even the young fishes that come from the spawn of one kind feed on the eggs laid by others.
Then, too, these same young fry, as the little baby fishes are called, form the chief food of all others
that are large enough to prey upon them."
SUMMARY
The fish has small, sharp teeth, pointing backward, but no cutting, or grinding teeth. They devour other fish, and swallow their prey
whole. Fishes lay eggs in immense numbers. The roe of the fish contains the eggs. The young fry that come from these eggs form the
food of other fishes.
 Lesson 40
Paraffin Oil
"Our lessons on coal-tar and naphtha, Fred, like a good many others, have led us farther than I
thought they would," said Willie. "Who would have thought now that they had anything to do with
paraffin oil?"
"Does paraffin oil come from coal-tar and naphtha then?" asked Norah.
"No," said Fred, "not exactly. But teacher has been showing us today that there are a great many
inflammable liquids very much like the coal-naphtha in their properties. Some of them are prepared
by man, but most of them are got direct from the ground."
"Petroleum or rock-oil is the commonest of these. It is obtained from springs in many parts of the
world, but chiefly in America and Russia."
"Teacher says that these oil springs in some places rise to the surface of the ground, but as a rule
deep wells are sunk, and the oil is pumped up from them."
"The petroleum as it comes from the earth is of a dirty greenish-yellow color and very thick and
oily. In this state it is unfit for use. It is pumped from the wells into great tanks, whence it is sent along
iron pipes to the refining factories to be purified."
"A coarse rough oil very like this is obtained from peat, from various kinds of coal, and, as we
have seen, from coal-tar."
"In the refinery this coarse oil separates into a variety of different substances. There is first of
all the clear liquid commonly called paraffin oil, for burning in lamps."
"That which is obtained from petroleum or rock-oil is called kerosene."
"Then, besides this, there is a beautiful, fine, white substance like wax, which is known as solid
paraffin, and is largely used in making candles."
"Lastly, that which is left forms a rough coarser kind of oil, which is used for oiling machinery."
"Teacher explained to us how the paraffin oil burns in a lamp," said Willie. "The porous wick
absorbs the oil, and the heat of the flame makes it evaporate. It is not the oil itself that burns, but the
gas or vapor from it, just as the ordinary coal-gas burns in our gas-burners."
"Teacher showed us that the oil itself will not burn. He thrust a burning match into some of it in a
saucer. The oil did not take fire. It actually put out the match."
"He told us that it is only when paraffin is allowed to get heated that there is any danger. When it
is heated it gives off this gas, and the gas is very explosive when mixed with air."
"He showed us another liquid called benzine, which is obtained by refining the coal-tar naphtha.
He poured a small spoonful of this into a saucer and put a light to it, and it blazed up in a moment
with a little bang."
"He said it was the gas or vapor only in this case that exploded. But benzine is much more
dangerous than paraffin, because it constantly evaporates with the heat of an ordinary warm day."
SUMMARY
Paraffin, petroleum, or rock-oil is an inflammable liquid, which is obtained from oil-springs in the ground. The coarse liquid, as it is
pumped up, is purified, and made to yield paraffin wax, and refined oil for burning in lamps. Benzine is another inflammable liquid—even
more inflammable than paraffin oil. It is made by refining coal-tar naphtha. An ordinary warm day will cause it to evaporate. It is the
vapor, or gas rising from it, which takes fire and explodes, when it mixes with the air.
 Lesson 41
An Insect
"We had a lesson on insects today, Norah," said Willie, "and it was all new to us, and very
wonderful. Fred has gone to find one or two insects now, so that we may have a talk about them. Here
he comes; let us get ready for a chat."
"Look!" said Fred, as they sat down at the table, "I've got a beautiful butterfly, a beetle, and a
fine big bluebottle fly. They will do well. First of all, let us see why these little creatures are called
insects."

"If you take any one of them in your hand, you will see that it appears to be deeply cut across in
two places, so as to be almost separated into three distinct parts. This is why we call it an insect. The
word insect means 'cut into.' The three parts are the head, the chest, and the belly."
"Look at it again carefully," he continued, "and you will see that the chest and belly parts are
made up of hard horny rings. Teacher calls them ringed segments. A segment means a part. These
segments are not complete rings, as they do not pass entirely round the body. Each one is in two parts
—an upper and an under half. The two parts are joined at the sides by a loose skin. In most insects
there are three of these ringed segments in the chest and nine in the belly. They overlap one another,
and give the body great freedom of movement."
 "Teacher says the bodies of all insects are made up of ringed segments like these."
"Now, Fred," said Willie, "shall we have something about the head next?"
"Yes, Will," answered Fred, "suppose you tell us all about it."
"Well, first of all, the head is in one piece," said Willie. "It is not made up of ringed segments.
There is no skull or brain case, because insects have no brains. Teacher says they have instead a
number of knots of nerves in various parts of the body."
"The eyes are placed at the side of the head, not in front, so as to enable the insect to see around
it in all directions. Teacher says they are most wonderful eyes, for each eye is really a close cluster of
little eyes. Insects have many enemies. These sharp eyes are almost their only chance of escape."
"Oh, I was going to forget their feelers," he added. "You can see them, Norah, one on each side
of the head. These are supposed to be organs of hearing and feeling. Now, Fred, can you think of
anything else?"
"Well, we must not forget the mouth," said Fred. "In insects, as in other animals, the form of the
mouth depends on the kind of food. The beetle has a pair of strong biting jaws or mandibles and
another pair of chewing jaws, and so have all insects that live on solid animal or vegetable food.
They bite off their food with their mandibles, and chew it with their chewing teeth."

"Other insects, such as the bee, the common house-fly, and the butterfly, live on juices, which
they suck up through a trunk. They have no jaws."
"Remember one thing. Whenever insects have jaws they always open sideways, and not up and
down as ours do."
SUMMARY
The word in-sect means "cut into." The body is in three parts—head, chest, and belly, and is made up of ringed segments. Insects
have no brain. The eyes are at the sides of the head; each eye is a cluster of small eyes. Some insects have jaws for biting their food.
The jaws always open sideways. Some have trunks for sucking up the food on which they live.
 Lesson 42
Carbonic Acid Gas
"We have from time to time heard about the gas called carbonic acid," said Fred. "Teacher made
some for us today. I'll tell you how he did it, Norah."
"He put some small pieces of chalk into a bottle, which was fitted with a bent tube and a funnel.
He poured enough water down the funnel to just cover the pieces of chalk, and then he added a little
of a liquid which he called hydrochloric acid. All at once a bubbling commenced round the pieces of
chalk, and the bubbles rose up and burst on the surface of the liquid. They were bubbles of the new
gas, carbonic acid. They came from the chalk."

"The gas first filled the bottle, and then passed away down the tube into some gas jars, one by
one, standing on the table."
"Then, I suppose," said Norah, "this is a gas that you can see?"
"No, it is an invisible gas," said Fred, "and we had to take teacher's word for it at first that he
had filled the jars with the gas. It was no use to smell it even, for this gas is odorless."
"It seemed very funny to me," said Willie, "when teacher simply dipped the end of the tube in the
jar, and presently said the jar was full of gas."
"You see," said Fred, "this gas is heavier than air. If we had poured water into the jar, the water
would have sunk to the bottom, and pushed the air out as it rose. This carbonic acid gas does just the
same."
"But how did you know there was carbonic acid gas at all in those jars, Fred?" asked Norah.
"I'll tell you," said Fred. "Teacher took one of the jars, and poured into it some clear lime-
water."
"Oh yes, I know," said Norah. "The lime-water turned white and milky-looking."
"It did," said Fred, "and that proved the gas to be carbonic acid."
 "He next plunged a burning taper into one of the other jars, and it went out instantly. Then he put
a piece of lighted candle in the bottom of an empty jar (I mean a jar containing nothing but air). We
could not think what was coming next, but he took the other jar of carbonic acid gas, and poured it, as
you would pour water, on the burning candle."
"The gas at once put out the light. Carbonic acid always does this. We now knew from the lime-
water and the burning candle that the gas was carbonic acid."
"But teacher made this gas in two other ways." said Willie. "He put a piece of burning candle in
a bottle and closed the mouth. The candle burned for a little while, and then died out. When he tried
the lime-water test, the gas in the bottle proved to be carbonic acid."
"We now know that burning of every sort always produces this same carbonic acid gas."
"I think," added Fred, "you have seen me breathe into a tumbler of lime-water, and turn the water
white and milky-looking? That proves that carbonic acid is given off with my breath. Teacher says
that not only we, but all animals breathe out carbonic acid gas."
SUMMARY
Carbonic acid is an invisible gas, without either taste or smell. It is very heavy, and can be poured out like water. It extinguishes a
flame. Nothing can burn in it. It turns clear lime-water white, like milk. Carbonic acid is formed when burning of any sort goes on.
Animals send out carbonic acid when they breathe.
 Lesson 43
More about Insects
"Shall we see what else we can find to say about insects, Fred?" asked Willie. "Norah would be
pleased, I am sure."
"Very well," said Fred, "suppose we talk about the insect's body. The most important part of the
body is the chest. To it are joined the wings above and the legs on the under side."
"Most insects have two pairs of wings; some have not a second pair, but have instead a pair of
balancers; some have no wings at all. Beetles have two pairs of wings, but the outer ones are simply
hard, horny cases, meant to protect the thin, gauzy, true wings beneath."
"Insects have always three pairs of legs, which are formed on one general plan—a thigh, a leg,
and a foot. Yet teacher says few things are more wonderful than the way in which the legs and feet of
each insect are formed to suit the kind of life it has to live."

"Some insects, like the grasshopper, have long legs and stout strong thighs for jumping and
leaping. Some are meant to burrow in the ground, like the mole and the rabbit. They are provided
with short strong fore-legs made for digging."

"How wonderful it all is," said Norah.

"The bee's legs," continued Fred, "are made hollow at the sides to form a sort of basket, in
which it carries home the pollen from the flowers for feeding purposes."
 "Fred, I think I can remember about the way the insect breathes," said Willie.
"Go on then, Will," said Fred.
"Teacher says insects have neither lungs nor gills," said Will. "They have instead two long
canals in the body, which end in breathing holes, in the loose side skin, joining the upper and lower
segments. These canals send out branching tubes into all parts of the body."
"The air which is taken in at the breathing holes on the sides of the body is carried into every
corner by these tubes, and so the blood all over the body is cleansed. The insect's blood is cold and
colorless."
SUMMARY
Most insects have two pairs of wings—some have no wings. All have three pairs of legs. The legs and feet are made to suit the
life of each kind of insect. Some are made for leaping, some for digging in the ground. The bee's thighs form baskets. Insects have
neither lungs nor gills. They breathe through slits in the loose, side skin.
 Lesson 44
More about Carbonic Acid Gas
"Every lesson we have," said Willie, "seems to show us, more and more, what a wonderful
world we live in. How lucky we are to be learning all these things. Whoever would have thought,
now, that poisonous carbonic acid gas could be of any use? Why, it would kill us and every living
animal if we were to breathe it for only two or three minutes. You remember our chats about the coal
mine, Norah, and the terrible explosions of fire-damp that sometimes happen?"
"Oh yes. I shall never forget those dreadful places," said Norah.
"Well, teacher told us that after the explosion takes place," said Willie, "dense masses of
carbonic acid gas are formed. The miners call the gas afterdamp or choke-damp. Dreadful as the first
danger is, more are killed afterwards—suffocated by the choke-damp—than by the explosion."
"But do you mean to say that this poisonous gas can be of any use?" asked Norah.
"Let me tell you," said Fred. "You know that the breathing of animals and the burning of fires are
constantly sending out some of this gas into the air. There is always carbonic gas in the air."
"Of course there must be," said Norah. "It seems to me that with fires and animals always
making it, there must be a very large quantity of this gas in the air."
"Ah!" said Fred, "that is just the most wonderful part of it. Teacher showed us a saucer which he
had filled with clear lime-water during the morning. By the time we saw it there was the same milky,
cloudy-looking film on its surface, as we saw in the lime-water when we breathed into it the other
day."
"That proved of course that carbonic acid gas had been acting on the lime-water. But the water
below was quite clear, and there was only a film on the surface. That tells us clearly that after all
there is only a very small quantity of carbonic acid gas in the air."
"Now, as we know that such a large amount of this gas is being constantly sent into the air, we
must begin to wonder what becomes of it."
"Teacher told us all about it. Plants of every kind take in from the air carbonic acid gas, and use
it to build up their own substance. It is their food."
"This is why there is never very much carbonic acid gas in the air. As quickly as it is formed by
breathing and burning, it is taken in by plants as their food."
SUMMARY
The breathing of animals and burning of all sorts are constantly loading the air with carbonic acid gas. Plants breathe in this
carbonic acid through the breathing pores of their leaves. It is part of their food.
 Lesson 45
Life History of an Insect
"Look at that beautiful butterfly, Norah," said Fred. "Its life has been a strange one. If you will
shut your eyes, and listen again as you did to the frog, you shall hear its history."
"'I was once an ugly caterpillar.' This is what it would say if it could speak. 'I remember the time
when I first crawled out from an egg. I was a very small, ugly, crawling thing then. My mother had
laid the eggs for me and my brothers and sisters in the leaf of a cabbage. She put them there because
she knew that we youngsters would be very fond of cabbage. That's about the only kind thing she ever
did for us, for she died soon after."

"'Some mothers, I am told, put their eggs in other places. The fly, for instance, likes to lay her
eggs in the meat in the butchers' shops, so that the maggots that come from them may have, plenty of
the food they like best. The beetle places her eggs in a dung-heap, where the grubs that come from
them are sure to get plenty to eat."
"'Well, it seems to me, whether we were caterpillars, maggots, or grubs, we did justice to the
food our good mothers provided for us. I know I did little else but feed from morning till night, and as
I fed and grew, my skin split in all directions, and I threw it off from time to time, always finding a
new one underneath. I don't think the gardener can have been very fond of us, for we must have done a
good deal of damage to his plants."
"'Well, after a while I suppose I must have reached my full size, for I had no longer any desire to
eat. I seemed to want to sleep. I rolled myself up in a snug ball, gummed myself into the leaf, and
covered myself with a loosely-spun, flossy silk. I think people called me a pupa or a chrysalis in
those days, but how long it lasted I never shall know."
"'All I do know is that when at length I woke up, I was no longer a crawling larva, nor was I a
pupa, but I found myself furnished with the most beautiful wings. I could fly. I was never more to
crawl like an ugly worm. I can't tell you the joy I felt."
"'Well, I soon began to feel my appetite, but I had now quite a loathing for those nasty cabbage-
leaves and green food. Something—I can't tell what it was—seemed to urge me to go to the flowers. I
went, and then I found I had a beautiful trunk for sucking up the sweet juice of the flowers. This has
been my food ever since."
"'I have been so happy, but I begin to feel it will soon end. I must go and lay my eggs in that
cabbage, and then I fear it will be all over with me.'"
SUMMARY
Insects come from eggs, laid by the parent, in the midst of some substance which will serve for food. The larva, or grub, comes
from the egg, and feeds voraciously till it reaches its full size. It then changes to the "pupa" form, from which it emerges as a perfect
insect.
 Lesson 46
Parts of a Plant
"Do you remember the difference between a mineral and a plant, Norah?" asked Willie.
"Let me see," said Norah. "I think I can tell. A plant consists of several distinct parts, such as the
root, stem, leaves, flowers, and so on, but any part of a mineral is exactly the same as another. Then,
too, a plant lives and grows in the ground, but a mineral is not living matter, and it does not grow."
"That's very good," said Willie. "These different parts have different work to do for the plant.
They are none of them alike, and none of them do the same kind of work as the others do. They are
called organs. Teacher says an organ is some special part of the plant which has some special work to
do."
"Ah, here comes Fred," he added. "We'll all go out into the garden, and examine some of the
plants for ourselves."
Away they went, and found father busy as usual. As soon as he knew what they wanted, however,
he found them the plants best suited to their purpose, and said they might go on with their chat without
any fear of worrying him.
"Look," said Fred, as he knocked a plant out of the pot, and shook the soil away from it. "Here is
a plant that has a root, a stem, and some leaves, but no other parts of any sort. It had the same three
organs as soon as it first peeped above the soil, and as long as it lives it will have them."

"Let us examine this young scarlet bean. It is only just unfolding its leaves above the ground, but
it has all three parts. It could not live without each one of them."
"Teacher says we may call them the vital organs of the plant, because they have to do with the
everyday life of the plant. The name vital comes from a word which means life. These organs—the
root, stem, and leaves—do the work of feeding the plant and making it grow. They may therefore be
called also the organs of growth."
"Run round now and see my early peas," said father. "You will find some other parts there, I
think."
As they went along the path Fred picked a rose and put it in his buttonhole.

"Do you think," he said, as he did so, "the rosebush will die because I have picked this flower,
Norah?"
"Oh no," said Norah, "it does not hurt a plant to pick its flowers. We pick bunches of flowers all
through the summer."
"What does that prove then?"
"It proves," replied Norah, "that the flowers are not vital organs. They have nothing to do with
the work of keeping the plant alive."
"Quite right," said Fred. "Now let us examine these peas. Here are some in flower. What a pity it
is that they wither and die! Just look at this one. The pretty flower-leaves seem quite dried up."
"But don't let us be in a hurry," he continued. "Look again. In place of the pretty flower there is a
little green pod. See, here is a larger one, and here is one larger still. Let us pick it and see what there
is inside."
Norah opened the pod, and saw that it contained a number of little round peas. Fred explained
that these are the seeds of the plant.
 "The work of the flowers," he added, "is to form these pods with the seeds in them. The seeds, if
we left them to ripen, would grow next season into new plants."
"Teacher says that the flowers, although they are not vital organs, have a very important work to
do. They have to produce the seeds, which will grow into new plants. We call them organs of
reproduction."
SUMMARY
A plant has distinct organs, each of which perform some special kind of work. Some of these—the root, stem, and leaves—are
known as vital organs. They have to feed the plant and make it grow. The flowers are organs of reproduction. They form the seeds, from
which new plants will spring.
 Lesson 47
The Spider
"I've found one, Fred," said Willie, running in almost breathless from the garden, "such a
monster. He has made a web in the bower by the apple-tree. Bring Norah, and we'll see what we can
find to talk about."
A few minutes later they were all seated in the bower, watching a great garden-spider.
"Now, Norah," said Fred, "I daresay you think, as I did till today, that the spider is an insect.
But, thanks to teacher, I shall be able to show you that he is not an insect. He is quite distinct from the
insects in nearly every way. I wonder what you could tell me about the spider and his habits, from all
you have seen of him."

"I have often watched the spider, lying in wait to entrap the flies and other insects in his terrible
net," said Norah. "I should call him a sly, crafty creature. From the fierce, savage way he attacks
them, too, he must be cruel and bloodthirsty."
"You have watched him well, Norah. He is a fierce, hungry hunter," said Fred. "He preys upon
insects, and is as much a terror to them as certain beasts, birds, reptiles, and fishes are to other
animals. Unlike them, however, he weaves a trap or snare in which to capture his prey."
"Now let us look and see what he himself is like. His body is in two parts—not three, like the
body of an insect. The upper part consists of the head and chest together; the lower part is the belly.
The whole of the body, too, is covered with a close-fitting, soft, smooth coat—not with overlapping
segments, like those of the insects."
 "The eyes, again, are quite different from the insects' eyes. Some spiders have two eyes; some
have as many as six or eight pairs of eyes. But the eye is always single, and not made up of a cluster
of small eyes like the eyes of the insects. They are so set in the head as to enable him to see on all
sides at once. They are protected with a hard, transparent, horny covering, and so there is no need of
eyelids."
"On the front of the head are the feelers, which end in a pair of terrible claws. These are his
weapons of attack. Teacher says each feeler is in two parts, which can be folded together. The claw,
besides being a sharp, tearing weapon, is really a hollow tube, through which the spider darts a
poisonous fluid into the wounds of his victim."

"The horrid little monster," said Norah. "He is even more savage than I thought he was."
"The head is simply the front part of the chest," continued Fred. "The hinder part bears the legs
but no wings. Spiders never have wings."
"The legs are always eight in number—four pairs. Insects, you know, have six legs. The legs are
of great length, and each one consists of seven jointed parts. The spider, having no wings, has to rely
on these long nimble legs in pursuing his prey."
SUMMARY
The spider is not an insect. Its body is in two parts, and is not covered with overlapping segments. It has eight legs, and no wings.
The eyes are single, and not in clusters. They are very prominent. On the front of the head are a pair of terrible claws. The spider is a
fierce, cruel, and sly hunter.
 Lesson 48
The Vital Organs of the Plant
"Suppose we have another chat about plants tonight, Norah," said Fred. "Let us try again to think
of some of our early lessons. We will begin with the root. Shall we?"
"The root, you know, is that part of the plant which makes its way down into the soil. It has to
hold the plant firmly in the ground, and supply it with earth-food from the soil."

"Some plants have fibrous roots. The fibers spring from the stem, and spread downwards
through the soil. Grass and grain have fibrous roots, and so have all plants that die down every year.
Such plants are called Annuals. We sow the seeds for them in the spring."

"Other plants have thick, fleshy tap-roots. These live for two seasons, and called Biennials. The
taproot is a sort of storehouse of food for the plant, to feed it when it wakes up after its winter sleep.
"Trees and shrubs live for many years, and are called Perennials. They have fibrous roots, but
these fibres are really thick and woody."

"You must remember, Norah," said Willie, "that, whatever the class of root may be, the actual
feeders are the delicate root-hairs. These root-hairs are absorbent, and absorb the dissolved earth-
food from the soil."
"Take the stem next," said Fred. "This is the part of the plant which grows upwards into the air,
and bears the leaves and flowers. But I want you to think only of the leaves now. Can you tell me the
different parts of a leaf, Norah?"
"Let me see," said Norah. "It has a footstalk and a blade; the ribs and veins spread through the
blade."
"Oh, and I remember, too, that the surface of the leaf is closely set with breathing pore," she
added."
 "You must remember," said Fred, "that the footstalk, ribs, and veins all form channels for the
upward flow of the earth-food. And now I want you to think of something else. What becomes of the
carbonic acid gas which is always being formed, in the air?"
"Oh, I know," said Norah. "The plants take it in. Then I suppose it is the carbonic acid gas that is
absorbed by the breathing pores of the leaves."
"Yes, it is," said Fred. "The breathing pores absorb carbonic acid gas from the air. In the leaves
this gas is broken up. The plant takes for its own use a part of it, which we call carbon or charcoal,
and breathes out the rest to the air again. The carbon is absorbed by the sap, which now becomes air-
food as well as earth-food, and is carried away into all parts of the plant."
SUMMARY
All annuals have fibrous roots. Biennials live for two years, and only flower in the second; they have fleshy tap-roots, which are
meant to serve as a store of food, for the plant to live upon. Trees and shrubs live for many years, and are called perennials. They have
fibrous, woody roots. The leaf consists of a footstalk and a blade. Ribs and veins spread through the blade, and its surface is set with
breathing-pores. The stem, the foot-stalk, the ribs, and the veins carry up the sap. The breathing- pores suck in carbonic acid gas from
the air. The sap takes carbon from this gas to feed the plant.
 Lesson 49
The Spider's Web
"Fred, I noticed that when we looked at the spider, we said nothing about the lower half of his
body," said Norah.
"No," said Fred, "I left that for another time. Suppose we talk about it now. This part of the
spider's body is very wonderful. It contains the machinery (if I may call it so) for spinning the web.
The material for the thread is a gummy fluid, which is prepared inside the body."
"On the under part of the body near the end are the openings of four tiny tubes—the spinnerets.
Teacher says that the end of each of these tubes is pierced like a pepper-box with about 1000 little
holes. It is through these tiny holes that the spider sends out the gummy fluid which is to make his
thread. It hardens as soon as it reaches the air."
"Now I am going to tell you the most wonderful thing of all. The spider's hind feet are made like
a pair of combs. These combs gather up and twist into a rope the fine threads from all the four
spinnerets—1000 from each, or 4000 in all."
"Think for yourself, Norah, what a fine delicate thing the thread of the spider's web is. Fancy that
fine thread being itself made up of no less than 4000 separate threads twisted together by the spider's
feet. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Next time you see a spider at work weaving his web, watch him. He is very clever."
"He first spins a very long thread, and then leaves it hanging from his body, for the wind to catch
it, and carry it across the space, and lodge it on some twig or wall, to which it will cling."
"Then he proceeds to stretch other threads across in a similar way, making them all meet in the
centre."
"Lastly, he runs a fine thread round and round, starting from the centre and ending at length on the
outside."
"Our garden-spider makes the most beautiful of all webs, and he can finish it in about an hour.
Then he retires to his den close by, to watch for the flies that come buzzing about."
"Presently he sees an unwary fly entangled in the elastic thread and struggling to get free. Then
with a sudden rush he throws himself on his victim, holds it fast in his cruel claws, which as I told
you, are both spears and poison-fangs, and at the same time binds its body with more cords."
"Thus close-bound in every limb, bruised, bitten, and poisoned, the poor fly is dragged away to
the den of the victor in triumph."
"There is just one other difference between spiders and insects," said Willie, "which we ought
not to forget. You know that insects have to pass through three distinct stages from the egg to the
perfect form—the larva, the pupa, and the perfect insect."
 "The little spider begins the world from the egg at once in its perfect form, and as it grows
bigger and bigger it casts its skin from time to time."
SUMMARY
The spider spins its web with a gummy fluid from its own body. Each thread is made up of 4000 separate strands. The web is
wonderfully made. The young spider begins its life in its perfect form; it does not pass through different stages, as the insects do.
 Lesson 50
Parts of a Flower
"Our lesson today," said Fred, "was about the flowers. You know, Norah, we called the flowers
the organs of reproduction. Their work is to produce new plants, which shall live after the parent
plant is dead."
"Teacher had some wallflowers to show us in class, and as we have plenty in the garden, we
may as well pick a few to talk about now."
"If we examine one of these flowers, we shall see that there is an outer covering, which holds it
to the flower-stalk. This is called the calyx. I will remove it from the flower, and, you see, it is really
a little cup into which the rest of the flower fits."

"It is made up of four little pointed green leaves, which we call sepals. Teacher says that
flowers have not all the same number of sepals. Some have more than this, some have less."
"When the flower was only a little bud, these sepals folded themselves round it to protect it from
wind, rain, and sun till it was fit to burst open."
"The sepals of most flowers are green," said Willie, "but some, like the fuchsia, have richly-
colored sepals."
 "Now let us look at the second or inner cup of flower-leaves, which rests in the calyx," said
Fred. "We call it the corolla. It consists of four separate leaves, larger than those of the calyx. Instead
of being coarse and green, these, you see, are soft and velvety to the touch, and richly colored."
"They are called petals. These beautiful flower-leaves, although so bright and gay, are not the
most important parts of the flower. Those parts are hidden away in the very center. Teacher says that
the petals, like the sepals, act as a covering to protect the inner parts of the flower while they are first
forming in the bud."

"Teacher told us too," said Willie, "that the flower-leaves of the corolla, like those of the calyx,
are not always four in number, and that they are not always separate, as they are in the wallflower."
"Look at this convolvulus, Norah. Its petals are joined together at their edges to form a sort of
bell."
SUMMARY
The outside flower-leaves, or sepals, form the calyx. The inner circle of flower-leaves are called petals; they form the corolla.
Both of these help to protect the delicate, inner parts of the flower.
 Lesson 51
More about the Flowers
"Suppose we come and finish our talk about the flowers," said Fred.
"We had to leave the inner parts of the flower yesterday, you know. Let us pick a few more fresh
flowers, and I'll see what I can remember to tell you about them."
"We will commence by carefully plucking off the petals. Now we can see, growing up from the
bottom of the flower-cup, some long slender stalks, with a little oval knob at the top of each. The
little stalks are called stamens; the knobs at the top of them are the anthers."
"Oh yes, Fred," said Norah. "I remember. They are not really knobs. They are little hollow
boxes or cases, and they are full of a fine yellow dust which we call pollen."
"Quite right, Norah," said Fred. "Look while I shake the anthers over this piece of white paper,
and you will see some of the pollen-dust on the paper."

"There is nothing more I can tell you about stamens and anthers, so we will strip them off the
flower and see what we can find next. Here, in the very centre, surrounded by all the other parts, we
find the most important part of the flower. We call it the pistil. It consists of two parts, the stigma and
the ovary."
"I think even the stigma is a very wonderful part of the flower," said Willie. "Teacher says that if
we could see it through a glass that would magnify it, we should find it to be very loose and spongy,
with a broad top, which is mostly covered with a sticky fluid."
"This stigma has to catch the pollen as it falls. The pollen must make its way down the stigma
into the ovary below. The broad head, the sticky top, and the loose spongy substance of the stigma
seem fitted in a wonderful way for this work."
"Suppose we have a look at the ovary now," said Fred. "I have got, on purpose, some flowers
that look dry and withered. You will see if we pull this one to pieces that the ovary has been growing
very large."
"This lower part of the pistil is swollen out larger than the upper part. It forms a sort of case or
box. It is called the ovary, because it contains a number of little round bodies, the ovules, placed in
order side by side. These ovules in time become seeds. When we speak of the fruit of a plant we
always mean this seed-vessel or ovary."
SUMMARY
Inside the circle of petals are the stamens. The anthers at the top of the stamens are full of pollen. The pistil is the innermost part
of the flower. The lower part of it is the ovary, and contains the ovules, which grow into seeds. It is the pollen from the anthers which
changes the ovules into seeds.
 Lesson 52
The Flower and its Work
"We have learned a good deal about the parts of the flower," said Fred. "Suppose we now
follow the flower in its work from the time it is a little growing flower bud till it withers and drops to
the ground. Let us begin with it as a bud, before it bursts open. What part of the flower has any work
to do at this time?"
"The calyx, with its strong outer covering of sepals, protects the little bud against the weather,"
said Willie.
"And I should think," said Norah, "that the soft, velvety petals of the corolla fold round the young
stamens and pistil, and make a smooth delicate covering to save them from injury."

"Quite right, both of you," said Fred. "That's just what teacher told us. When the stamens,
anthers, and pistil are able to stand the weather, all the flower leaves open, and those inner parts
grow quickly. The ovary has its tiny ovules from the first, but the ovules cannot become actual seeds
without the pollen from the anthers. The anthers are the first to ripen, and as they ripen they burst open
and scatter their yellow pollen. Some of it falls on the stigma of the pistil, and at once forces its way
through its spongy substance till it reaches the ovules in the ovary."
"Now listen while I tell you a very wonderful thing about this pollen. You have seen some of the
yellow dust. Think how fine the grains of this pollen must be. What a wonderful thing it is then that
each little grain of pollen carries down to the ovules a small drop of fluid. It is this very fluid which
changes the ovules into actual seeds."
"Let me tell Norah about the bees," said Willie, "for after all I think that is more wonderful still."
"You know, Norah, that the bees use the pollen of the flowers to feed their young. They collect it
by flying from flower to flower, and carry it home in those hollow baskets in the sides of their thighs.
You know, too, that they get honey from the flowers. The honey is always found at the very bottom of
the flower. The bees cannot get at it without forcing aside the stamens, and most likely bursting some
of the anthers. But they get both the things they want, and besides this they get dusted all over with the
pollen."
"Now comes the wonderful part. Some flowers have a pistil but no stamens. Such flowers could
never produce seeds, for they have no pollen to send into the ovary. Imagine then the bees going about
their own work, without a thought for the flowers, and yet doing the very thing that is wanted for them.
They visit a flower and become covered with its pollen; they go to the next, and, while forcing their
way in, leave some of that pollen behind, and the whole work is done."

SUMMARY
The sepals and petals protect the stamens and pistil while they are young. The pollen grains from the anthers pass down into the
ovary, and carry a small drop of fluid to make the ovules into seeds. The bees, and other insects, do most of the work of carrying pollen
from one flower to another.
 Lesson 53
Seeds
"Last time we were talking about the flowers, Norah, I showed you the ovules in the little seed-
pod of the wallflower," said Fred. "I have here one of the same seed-pods, so ripe that it is splitting
open. You can see that the ovules have become actual seeds."
"We had a lesson about seeds yesterday, and I'll try now and tell you what teacher said about
them. He had some scarlet beans and broad beans for us to examine in class, so I've got a few now to
show you. I have been soaking some of them in water, just as teacher did. Let us begin with them. The
first thing to notice is the loose wrinkled skin that covers the seed. If we peel it off we see that it is
thick and tough. The skin of these dry seeds is smooth and shiny. It is wrinkled because it has been
soaked. We call this tough outer skin the testa. Of course you can see that it is meant to protect the
inner kernel. I want you next to notice this long black scar along the edge of the seed. It marks the spot
where the seed was attached to the ovary or seed-vessel. It is called the hilum."
 "Now please watch me. I don't think I can do this as well as teacher did it, but I'll try."
Fred then slit the testa of one of the soaked seeds very carefully with a knife, and peeled it off,
so as to show the inner parts.
"Now look, Norah," he said. "The seed really consists of two pieces placed side by side. Both
pieces are thick and solid. They are called the seed-leaves."
"See, they are not separate," he went on, "They are joined together in one spot, the hilum, as by a
sort of hinge. I wonder whether I can spread the two seed-leaves open without breaking the hinge.
That's good. Now have a look at this little hinge. It is the most important part of the seed, for it is the
germ of the new plant."

"Look at this part of it which points upwards. It is called the plumule. It is really a tiny bud,
which will make its way up through the soil, and form the stem and leaves. The other part pointing
downwards makes its way into the soil and becomes the root. It is called the radicle. Radicle means a
little root."
SUMMARY
The seed of a bean consists of two parts, or seed-leaves, joined together at the hilum by a little hinge. This hinge is the germ of the
new plant. Part of it, the plumule, will grow upwards through the soil; the other part, the radicle, will make its way downwards, and form
the root.
 Lesson 54
Seedlings
"Can you tell me, Fred, all about the way the little seed germ grows till it becomes a plant, able
to take care of itself?" asked Norah. "I learned so many new things from what you told me about the
seeds, that I should so much like to know just how that little germ grows."
"Well, I think I can tell you something about it," said Fred, "for that was our lesson this
morning."
"You know that every seed contains in itself the germ of a little plant, with root, stem, leaves,
only waiting for an opportunity to grow. Teacher showed us some peas which he was growing in
flowerpots; some were only just starting, others were quite little plants with leaves."

"After the seeds have been in the damp soil for some time the first effect of the moisture is to
cause the testa to swell up and wrinkle till at last it bursts. While this has been going on, the warmth
and moisture together have made the tiny germ wake up, as it were, from its long sleep and begin to
stretch itself out. It happens, you see, that the testa splits just at the time when the germ has woke up,
is beginning to grow, and wants more room."
"The two parts of the germ grow—the radicle forcing its way down into the soil, the plumule
upwards towards the surface, for light and air."
"But I can't see how these little germs can grow," said Norah. "Where do they get their food? It
must be some time before the little root can grow enough to make its way into the soil, and then I think
you told me that the root-hairs, which feed the plant, don't come for some time. I can't see how the
little thing is to get any earth-food, and it certainly can't get any air-food, for there are no leaves—no
parts of it above the ground."
"Well," said Fred, "I am not surprised to see you puzzled about this, Norah. But you may be sure
everything is well arranged, although it is very wonderful. Those seed-leaves are simply a storehouse
of food for the little germ, with just the proper kind of food, and just the proper quantity, to feed it till
it can grow root-hairs to absorb earth-food from the soil, and leaves to breathe in air-food from the
air."
"As soon as this is the case the seed-leaves wither and drop off."
SUMMARY
When the seed is put into the ground, the outside skin swells and bursts, the germ wakes up, and commences to grow—the
plumule making its way upwards, the radicle pushing itself down into the soil. The seed-leaves feed it as it is growing, till the root can
take up food from the soil.
 Lesson 55
The Seed-Leaves
"Would you like to learn a little more about those wonderful seed-leaves, Norah?" asked Fred.
"There are a few things about them which we ought not to forget."
"Oh yes, do tell me, Fred," said Norah. "The more I know about all these wonderful things, the
more I want to know."
"Well then," said Fred, "the seeds which I brought you to examine had all of them two seed-
leaves, and the germ itself formed the little hinge to hold the two parts together."
"Let us take the scarlet bean seed once more. Open it and you will see that it has double seed-
leaves. But I want you now to look not at the seed, but at the green leaves of the plant. Here are some
of them."

"Hold one up to the light and tell me what you notice about it."
"Oh, I know," said Norah. "You mean the veins. These are net-veined leaves. The veins branch
out and spread through the leaf in all directions."
"Quite right, Norah," said Fred, "and now I want you to examine some other seeds for yourself.
Here are some large seeds such as apple-seeds and pear-seeds, plum and cherry stones, almonds,
acorns, and peas. Here, too, I have some small ones—radish seeds and mustard seeds. If you open
them you will find that every one of them has double seed-leaves."
"Now take them one by one and think what kind of leaves they produce when they grow up into
plants. The apple tree and the pear tree, the plum and cherry trees, the almond tree and the oak all
have the same net-veined leaves. So have peas, radishes, and the mustard plant."
"In fact, you may say that all plants bear net-veined leaves that come from seeds with double
seed-leaves."
"But what about the plants with parallel-veined leaves—leaves whose veins run side by side?"
asked Norah. "Haven't these got double seed-leaves too, Fred?"
"No," said Fred, "they have only one seed-leaf. I can't tell you anything about those now. Teacher
has promised to give us a lesson on them tomorrow."
SUMMARY
The bean seed has two seed-leaves. The plant which comes from it has net-veined leaves. All plants with net-veined leaves come
from seeds which have double seed-leaves.
 Lesson 56
The Single Seed-Leaf
"Fred, you promised to tell me about those plants whose seeds have a single seed-leaf," said
Norah. "Did you get your lesson today?"
"Yes," said Fred, "we had our lesson, and I'll try and tell you all I can about it, if you would like
to hear it."
"To make us understand these seeds properly, teacher brought some grains of Indian corn for us
to examine. Some of the grains he had kept in soak for a few days, so that instead of being hard and
brittle, they were soft enough for him to cut easily. He gave me some of the soaked grains after the
lesson. Here they are. I'll try and show you what teacher showed us in class. Don't laugh if I can't do
it so well as he did, Will. Here, lend me your knife. It's sharper than mine."

"Well," he continued, "teacher took one of the grains and cut away with his knife, like this, all the
outside mass of soft substance, and presently—bravo! I've done it."
"Done what, Fred?" asked Norah.
"Why, look; all this outside stuff has nothing to do with the actual seed. Here is the seed. It was
embedded in the middle of the grain."

"Now suppose we have a look at the seed itself. See, Norah, it has a plumule and a radicle, just
like other seeds. But I want you to notice the outer part of the seed. This, you see, is all in one piece,
and folds itself completely round the plumule and radicle as if to protect them. You remember, of
course, that the germs of the other seeds are protected by double seed-leaves. This has only a single
seed-leaf."
 "Now think of our old lessons on the grain plants, and you will be able to tell me what kind of
leaves they all have, corn as well as the rest."
"These all have parallel-veined leaves," said Norah. "The veins run through the leaves, side by
side, from base to tip."

"Remember, then," said Fred, "that all plants bear parallel-veined leaves that come from seeds
with a single seed-leaf."
"Does the little seedling get its food from this one seed-leaf, Fred?"
"No, Norah," said Fred. "In all these seeds the food store is laid up in the grain, which surrounds
the germ, and not in the seed-leaf. The seed-leaf itself is not thick and solid like those of the bean."
SUMMARY
The germ of the grains has only one seed-leaf. The food-store to feed the growing germ is laid up in the grain itself, and not in the
seed-leaf. All plants that grow from such seeds have parallel-veined leaves.
 Lesson 57
The Bark
"We have had a lesson today, Norah, about the tree's coat," said Willie.
"The tree's coat," said Norah. "What do you mean?"
"Come into the garden," said Will, "and we'll show you. Look at this old tree. How rough and
gnarled its stem and branches look. This outside part of the tree is quite different from the rest of the
woody stem. We call it the bark. This is what I meant by the tree's coat."

"Will is quite right," said Fred, "only I should perhaps call it, as teacher did, a double coat, for
there is an inner one beneath this rough one on the outside."
"But let us look at some of the other plants in the garden," Fred continued. "I can easily peel off
from any of them an outer skin or covering. It is not so thick, of course, as the tree's coat, but it is the
same sort of thing. It covers the plants just as the skin covers our bodies. It is in each case the bark of
the plant."
"The outer bark which we can see is, of course, thicker and coarser than the one beneath it. We
might call this the tree's greatcoat. The cork which we use for so many purposes is the outer bark of a
kind of oak tree which grows in Spain. These trees are grown only for their bark, which is stripped
off them from time to time."
 "The bark of the oak, larch, chestnut, willow, and birch, when ground small and steeped in
water, gives a liquid called ooze, which is used in tanning leather."
"The outer bark of certain trees is used for dyeing; and the valuable medicine, quinine, is made
from the bark of the cinchona tree."
"The inner bark is an entirely different substance. Teacher showed us some strips of the inner
bark of the bass-wood tree, and father has lent me this to show you now."
"Why, Fred," said Norah, "this is the common bass, that father uses for tying up his plants in the
garden."
"Yes, Norah, and this common bass—or bast—is really the inner bark of the bass-wood, as I
said just now."
"Now I want to give you one thing to think about," he added. "Long, long ago, before people had
paper, they used to write on thin sheets of this bass to make their books. The Latin name for book is
liber. This is why bass is sometimes called liber."
SUMMARY
The bark is the outside coat of the plant. The bark of trees is thick. Cork is the bark of a tree. The bark of the oak and other trees
is used in tanning. The bark of some trees is used for dyeing; that of others for medicine.
 Lesson 58
Kinds of Bass
"When we were talking about bass the other day," said Fred, "there was not time to say all I
wanted to say about it. Let us start again now."
"Take a piece of the bass, Norah, and try to break it by pulling it. You cannot do so. You find it
very tough and strong. It is for this reason, and also because it is very pliant, and can be easily bent or
twisted, that bass is so useful."
"The bass of the bass-wood is used for making ropes, mats, shoes, hats, and other things. You
know, too, how useful the bass matting is in the garden for tying-up purposes and for covering plants
in the winter time."
"Teacher says much of the bast of commerce comes from Russia."
"Although, properly speaking, the name bass is confined to the inner bark of the bass-wood, we
commonly apply the name to the inner bark of many other plants."
"Do you know what my white collar is made of, Norah?"
"It is made of linen," she replied.
"Quite right," said Fred, "but what is linen?"
"Linen comes from the flax plant."
"Yes, but what part of the plant gives us this linen? I don't think you can tell. It comes from the
stem. It is made from the bass—or bast—fibers of the inner bark."
"The Latin name for flax," he continued, "is linum. Here are some of the flax seeds. We call them
linseed. The cloth we make from the bast fibers we call linen."
"Rope, twine, and cordage of every kind, canvas, sail-cloth, and sacking are all made from the
bast fibers in the inner bark of another plant, something like the flax," said Willie. "This is the hemp
plant. It is grown in many parts of the world, and is not unlike the common nettle in appearance. You
know you give hemp seed to the thrush and blackbird, Norah."
"Teacher showed us some other bast fibers called jute," said Fred. "This, like the flax and hemp,
comes from the stem of the plant. It is the inner bark of the stem. Jute is not so tough and strong as flax
or hemp, but it has a smooth, glossy appearance. It is largely used because it is cheap and easily
worked. It is often mixed with flax and hemp to make certain kinds of goods."
SUMMARY
The inner bark of the bass-wood yields bass or liber. The inner bark of the flax-plant yields material for making linen. Canvas,
rope, and cordage are made from the inner bark of the hemp-plant. Jute is the inner bark of a plant and is used for many purposes.
 Lesson 59
Flax
"The bast fibers of the flax plant are so important," said Fred, "that teacher gave us a special
lesson on the plant and its cultivation. The flax plant grows from two to three feet high, and bears
pretty blue flowers at the top of its long slender stalks. When the flower dies off it leaves behind a
pod, or seed-vessel, full of little, flat, oval seeds."
"It is a curious fact that in warm countries the plants produce excellent seeds, but the bast fibers
of the stem are not so good as in plants grown in temperate climates."
"In warm countries therefore the flax plant is grown chiefly for its seeds. When pressed, these
seeds yield linseed oil, and the oil-cake which is left behind is used for feeding cattle."

"In cooler climates the plant is grown mainly for the bast fibers of its inner bark, which is used
for making linen. In the north of Ireland, and in Belgium, Holland, and Russia, we may see fields of
flax plants growing like corn and other crops. The plant is an annual, and very easily grown. It is
sown in the spring, and is ready for gathering in July."
"When the plants are fit to gather, their leaves fall off, their stems begin to turn yellow, and the
seed-pods to become brown. Men, women, and children are then sent into the fields to uproot the
plants by hand. They are all pulled up separately, carefully dried in the sun, and then laid in order,
crossing each other, with the root ends pointing one way."
"A great deal needs to be done to the flax before it is fit for the manufacturer. First of all, the
seed-pods have to be removed from the stalks. This is done by a process called rippling. Men called
ripplers sit in front of a coarse, iron comb fixed with its teeth uppermost. This is the ripple. The men
draw the stalks one by one through the teeth, and so separate the seed-pods from them."

"The next process is known as rotting or retting. The object of it is to separate the bast fibers
from the woody part of the stem. To do this the stalks are steeped, root downwards, in a shallow pool
for about ten or twelve days."
"At the end of that time the fibers become loose, and may be easily removed from the rest of the
stem, which has rotted into a soft pulpy sort of matter. The hard, woody parts, which have not rotted,
have been made very brittle by the steeping. These are separated from the fibers by a process called
breaking and scutching."
"The flax, freed from all this useless matter, is tied up in bundles weighing from 16 to 24 lbs.
each, and is ready for the workman."
SUMMARY
The flax-plant grows from two to three feet high, and bears pretty blue flowers. Its seeds are the linseed from which we extract
oil. Linen is made from the bass fibers of the inner bark of the stem. The plants are pulled up when ripe, and after drying in the sun are
rippled to remove the seed-pods. They are then steeped in water to make the soft parts of the stem rot. The scutching process, which
follows, is to remove the hard, woody parts, and leave the bast fibers free.
 Lesson 60
Linen-Making
"We have been learning today," said Willie, "how linen is made from the flax fibers. Teacher
showed us some pieces of fine linen, duck, diaper, huckaback, and damask, and, side by side with
them, some of the scutched fibers we were talking about the other day. He said that those beautiful
linen goods are called fabrics, because they are made by a skilled workman. We could easily imagine
for ourselves how much clever skill is needed in the workman to change the rough fibers into those
useful materials for our use."
"Fred, will you tell all about it?" he added. "You will do it better than I can."
"Well, let us see where to begin," said Fred, "and I will try."
"Suppose we begin with the scutched fibers, as they are first taken to the mill. The fibers are of
different quality in different parts of the stem. Near the root they are coarse and strong, in the middle
they are finer, and near the top they are very fine but not very strong. The first business then is to cut
the fibers into three lengths, to keep each of them for special fabrics."
"They have next to undergo a process called heckling. This is nothing more than drawing the
fibers again and again through a comb, to straighten them and make them lie side by side. The comb is
called a heckle, and is placed with its steel teeth upright."
"As the heckler draws the fibers through this heckle he combs out a great deal of coarse broken
fibre. This would not do for such fabrics as teacher showed us, but is used up in making coarser
goods."
"The heckled fibers are called line. They are fine and soft to the touch, but very tough and will
not easily break. They have a glistening, silvery appearance, not unlike silk, and are of a pale yellow
color."
"Tough as these line fibers are, they would not be strong enough singly. Look at this piece of
linen. I will pull one of the threads out. This thread, you see, consists of a number of fine threads
twisted together. The fibers of the heckled line have first to be twisted into strong thread like this
before they can be made into any fabric."
"The process of twisting the fibers into thread is called spinning; the spun thread is called flax
yarn."
"The rest of the work is done by the weaver in a machine called a loom. In the loom a great
many threads are arranged closely, side by side, in front of the workman. These are called the warp.
The alternate threads of the warp can be raised and lowered as the weaver pleases. A shuttle, which
the man passes from hand to hand, through the warp, carries another thread, called the woof. The
fabric is woven by passing the shuttle to and fro, and at the same time raising first one get of the warp
threads and then another."
SUMMARY
The manufacture begins by cutting the bundles of scutched fibers into three lengths, after which they are heckled, or combed. The
heckling draws the fibers out, and straightens them. They are then called line. The line is spun into yarn, and the yarn is woven into
fabrics in the loom.
科学读本（英文原版）第四册
 第四册

目录
Lesson 01 Cohesion
Lesson 02 Solids, Liquids, Gases
Lesson 03 Our Bodies
Lesson 04 The Woody Stems of Plants
Lesson 05 Capillary Attraction
Lesson 06 More about the Skeleton
Lesson 07 The Oak Stem
Lesson 08 Joints
Lesson 09 Properties of Bodies
Lesson 10 How the Bones Move
Lesson 11 The Oak and the Fir (a Comparison)
Lesson 12 Gravity
Lesson 13 Vertebrates and Invertebrates
Lesson 14 Timber
Lesson 15 The Nerves
Lesson 16 Timber—Its Shrinkage and Preservation
Lesson 17 Cohesion in Liquids
Lesson 18 Circulation of the Blood
Lesson 19 Timber—Its Uses
Lesson 20 The Vertebrates
Lesson 21 More about Timber
Lesson 22 Further Properties of Liquids
Lesson 23 The Invertebrates
Lesson 24 Pressure of Liquids
Lesson 25 Classification of Invertebrates
Lesson 26 More about the Pressure of Liquids
Lesson 27 Digestion
Lesson 28 Buoyancy of Liquids
Lesson 29 Mammals
Lesson 30 Floating bodies
Lesson 31 Air has Weight
Lesson 32 More about the Mammals
Lesson 33 Pressure of the Atmosphere
Lesson 34 The Atmosphere—What It Is
Lesson 35 More about the Mammals
Lesson 36 Weight of the Atmosphere
Lesson 37 Birds
Lesson 38 More about the Atmosphere
Lesson 39 Respiration
Lesson 40 More about Birds
Lesson 41 How Heat Affects Bodies
Lesson 42 The Tube of Mercury
Lesson 43 Reptiles
Lesson 44 Water
Lesson 45 The Barometer
Lesson 46 Expansion and Contraction
Lesson 47 Fishes
Lesson 48 The Syringe
Lesson 49 The Thermometer
Lesson 50 Structure and Habits Compared
Lesson 51 The Suction-Pump
Lesson 52 How to make a Thermometer
Lesson 53 The Skin and Its Covering
Lesson 54 The Lifting Pump
Lesson 55 Thermometers
Lesson 56 The Mouths of Animals
Lesson 57 The Force-Pump
Lesson 58 Ice
Lesson 59 The Internal Organs
Lesson 60 The Air-Pump
返回总目录
 Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time.
—James Russell Lowell
 Lesson 01
Cohesion
"Well, how did you like your science lesson today, boys?" asked Mr. Wilson, as he overtook our
two young friends, Fred and Willie, on their way home. The boys had been promoted to a higher
class, and this was the first lesson of the new course. Mr. Wilson, their teacher, was a rare man for
his boys, especially those boys who showed that they took an interest in their work. He had long been
struck with the earnest attention these two boys paid, and the trouble they took to follow him
intelligently, and he made up his mind to help them.
"I think, sir," said Fred, "we shall soon begin to feel at home, for I am sure, from what I saw
today, our lessons in the lower classes will help us very much. We are going to try hard, for father has
promised to send us to the Institute by and by, if we learn all we can now."
"Suppose you tell me something about today's lesson, as we walk along," said Mr. Wilson.
"Well," said Willie, "the first thing we learned was that new word matter. We know now that the name
matter means every substance that exists."
"I think I understand, sir," said Fred, "what you mean by molecules of matter, although it seems
difficult to imagine particles so small that they cannot be seen even with the help of a powerful
microscope. We learned from our lesson that matter of every kind—solid, liquid, and gas—is made
up of extremely small particles, and these particles are called molecules. A molecule is the name for
the smallest particle of matter that can possibly exist."
 "Quite right, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "If you will keep two things in your mind, you will be
pretty clear about these molecules of matter.
"First think of the dissolved particles of a soluble substance. They are all in the liquid, but they
have been divided up into such minute particles that they are invisible.
"Then think of our little experiment with mercury. We boiled the mercury in the tube, and as it
boiled it passed away in vapor. But we could not see the vapor, because the particles had been
divided up too small to be seen. These were molecules of mercury.
"We knew they were there, and we found them when we held the cold slate over the tube. The
tiny drops, as they condensed, ran together again and again, till at last they were large enough for us to
see."
"We learned, too," said Fred, "that, as all matter is composed of molecules, there must be a force
of some kind, which holds them together, or else everything in the world would at once fall away to
the finest dust or powder. This force which holds the molecules of matter together is called cohesion.
It is so named because the word cohesion means holding together."
"That's very good," said Mr. Wilson. "Try and think of our experiments with the poker, and the
pieces of lead, wood, glass, and chalk, and tell me what they teach us."
"Oh yes, I remember, sir," said Willie. "We can't break or twist the poker with all our trying.
This means that the force of cohesion is so strong that we cannot separate the molecules from one
another. We can bend the piece of cane and the lead, but they do not easily break. We say they are
tough. The glass and the chalk snap quickly. There is less cohesion between their molecules than there
is between the molecules of either lead, wood, or iron. We say the glass and the chalk are brittle."
 Lesson 02
Solids, Liquids, Gases
"May we walk home with you this afternoon, sir?" asked Fred.
"Certainly, my boys," replied Mr. Wilson. "I was thinking of putting my museum cupboard into
your charge," he continued. "You could keep the things in order, dust them regularly, and help me with
the experiments during the lessons. Would you like that?"
"Oh, thank you very, very much, sir," said both the boys at once. "We'll be very careful with
everything."
"Now, what have you got to chat about as we walk along?" asked Mr. Wilson.
"Our lesson on the force of cohesion, sir," said Fred, "helps us to understand, better than we
have ever done, why there should be three distinct states of matter—the solid, the liquid, and the gas.
"A solid is a body whose molecules are held strongly together. It is a solid simply because the
force of cohesion is very strong in it. Even when we break a soft solid, like a piece of chalk, it does
not fall to powder. It breaks into pieces, and these pieces still hold together."
"It was so easy, sir," said Will, "to compare the cohesive force in a liquid and a solid, when you
set me to take the water out of the basin, a spoonful at a time. It was no trouble to separate the
molecules of water from one another with the spoon, because they are not held together firmly, as the
molecules of a solid are."
"Quite right, boys," said Mr. Wilson. "Now what have you to say about the gases?"
"The molecules of a gas soon spread themselves out till they seem to fill the room," said Fred.
"This proves that gases are quite different from either solids or liquids. Their molecules have no
cohesion at all; they actually repel each other. They are always trying to get as far away from each
other as possible."
"Now I want you to try and tell me how the force of cohesion acts," said Mr. Wilson.
"The force of cohesion can act only when the particles are in close contact," said Fred.
"Do you remember," asked Mr. Wilson, "how I proved that?"
"Oh, I remember," said Fred. "It is useless to try and join the two edges of a broken plate or
saucer, or any other solid body, by pressing them together, because we cannot bring all the particles
into actual contact, and without actual contact there can be no cohesion. But it is possible to join two
perfectly smooth and level sheets of glass by pressing them together. All their particles are in actual
contact, and cohesion acts and joins them."
"Are we to understand, sir," asked Willie, "that cohesion acts only between the molecules of the
same kind of substance?"
"Yes," said Mr. Wilson, "the molecules of solid bodies are held together by cohesion, and the
molecules of liquids are also held together by cohesion. When we mix two glasses of water, they
immediately mingle and form a compact whole, because the molecules are brought into actual contact
with each other on all sides."
 Lesson 03
Our Bodies
We can feel, in every part of our body, portions of the hard, solid framework on which the body
is built. This strong framework is called the skeleton, and consists of upwards of two hundred distinct
and separate bones of various shapes and sizes, intended to give strength and solidity, and to support
the softer fleshy parts. If you call to mind the various skeletons of animals you have seen, you will at
once understand that in every animal it is the skeleton which determines the shape of the body. The
skeleton itself suggests at a glance the well-known shape of the individual animal.
Let us examine our own skeleton, and see how it is made. We will commence with the head,
which comprises two parts—the skull and the face.
The skull is a hollow box intended to hold and protect the brain. It is built of eight separate
bones, most of them broad flat plates. They are joined together firmly at their edges, because, as they
simply form a box, there is no need for these bones to move. The face comprises all the rest of the
head that is not included in the skull. It is formed of no less than fourteen separate bones. The only
thing calling for special notice in the arrangement of these bones is the provision, which is made by
them for the protection of the eyes, by lodging those organs in great hollows formed in the bones
themselves. These hollows are called the orbits or sockets of the eyes. Notice how providentially
they are surrounded by the broad frontal-bone of the forehead above, the nose-bone between them,
and the cheekbones below. These effectually protect the delicate organs from injury. Only one of all
these fourteen bones of the face is capable of movement. Which is it? The lower jawbone moves so
as to open and close the mouth. It is attached on either side by a sort of hinge to the other bones of the
skull.
 Both jaws are armed with teeth for biting and chewing our food. We have during our lives two
sets of teeth. The first, called the milk teeth, are twenty in number, and are shed while we are young.
The others, known as the permanent teeth, last through the rest of our life. There are thirty-two
permanent teeth in the complete set.
 The trunk is that part of the body which would be left if the head and limbs were lopped off. The
main pillar of the body is the backbone, which extends from the neck to the bottom of the trunk. It is
not actually a single bone, but a string of separate bones called vertebra, and is called the vertebral
column. The vertebrae are joined together by thick smooth pads of gristle, which form springy,
yielding cushions between each bone and the one above it. The seven smallest and topmost vertebras
form the neck; they support the head. Next to these come twelve vertebras, each of which supports a
pair of ribs—one on either side. The ribs form a kind of hollow bony cage, which we call the chest.
They are joined in front to the breastbone. It is worth noticing that the vertebras increase in size and
solidity downwards. The bones at the base of the column are very thick, solid, and strong.

It is a curious fact, too, that the vertebral column of a child contains thirty-three distinct bones;
but there are only twenty-six bones in the vertebral column of an adult. The explanation is this; as the
child advances into adult life the four lowermost vertebras grow together and form one piece,
corresponding to the tail of the lower animals—in fact, a sort of rudimentary tail; and at the same time
the five next above these also become welded into one piece to form the sacrum. The sacrum and the
great haunch or hip-bones form a sort of bony basin—the pelvis—at the base of the column.
 Lesson 04
The Woody Stems of Plants
"It was a great surprise to me, sir," said Fred, "to learn that the stems as well as the leaves of
plants differ, according to the kind of seed from which they spring. Our last year's lessons taught us to
look for net-veined leaves on a plant which grows from a seed with double seed-leaves, and for
parallel-veined leaves on one which comes from a seed with a single seed-leaf. We learn from our
lesson today that the seed with the double seed-leaf produces one kind of stem, and the seed with a
single seed-leaf a totally different stem."

"Do you remember the other name for the seed-leaves, Fred?" asked Mr. Wilson.
 "Yes, sir, they are called cotyledons. Those seeds which have only one seed-leaf are called
monocotyledons; those with two seed-leaves are dicotyledons."
"Try and tell me all you can about the stem of the dicotyledon." said Mr. Wilson.
"Most of the plants in every part of the world, sir, are dicotyledons. They all have net-veined
leaves; but some of them are herbaceous, and die down to the ground every season. These, of course,
have no woody stem. The nature of the woody stem of the dicotyledon can be easily understood from
a piece of the stem or branch of one of our common trees. This always has a central pith, with the
hard solid wood arranged round it in layers or circles.
"You explained to us, too, sir, that when the tree was young this pith was soft, greenish, pulpy
matter, and took up all the center of the stem. It was through this central pith that the dissolved earth-
food absorbed by the roots rose upwards to the leaves. It had then only one woody layer round it.
Next year, however, and each year after, a new layer of wood was formed on the outside, and these
rings of new wood compressed the pith, till at last it became a mere thread. The woody stems of all
dicotyledons grow in this way, by the yearly addition of a new layer on the outside. They are called
ex-ogens. The word exogen means growing outwards."
 "Very good, my boy," said Mr. Wilson. "Now, Willie shall tell us all he can about the stem of the
monocotyledon."
"The woody stems of these plants are best understood, sir," said Will, "by examining a piece of
cane or bamboo. The wood is always arranged in parallel fibers through the stem from root to top.
There is a pith, but it is mixed up with the parallel threads of wood. The parallel bundles of woody
threads pass upwards through the pith itself. In these stems the oldest and hardest wood is on the
outside—not in the center, as it is in the exogens. The stem grows from within; the new wood is in the
center. Plants of this kind are called endogens, which means growing from within. These endogens or
monocotyledons form a small class of plants. The palms, canes, and bamboos are the chief of them."
 Lesson 05
Capillary Attraction
"I can understand now, I think, sir," said Fred, as they walked home, "why porous bodies have
the power of absorbing liquids. Our former lessons merely taught us that this absorption actually takes
place. We saw the liquids rise in the porous bodies. Today's lesson shows us the reason why they
rise."
"Well, Fred," said Mr. Wilson, "suppose you try and explain what really happens."
"I think I should begin, sir, by trying to tell the difference between the force of cohesion and the
force of adhesion. Our lesson on cohesion showed us that it is a very difficult matter to join the
particles of a solid, because, smooth as their surfaces may appear to the naked eye, the magnifying
glass proves them to be so rough and uneven that it is impossible to make them touch at all points, and
without touching everywhere there can be no cohesion.
"On the other hand, it is quite easy to make a liquid and a solid join, because the liquid flows
and fills up the inequalities in the surface of the solid, so that the two bodies touch everywhere, and
the liquid holds to the solid."
"Does the force of cohesion accomplish this too?" asked Mr. Wilson.
"No, sir," said Fred. "We call the force which holds the liquid to the solid by another name—
adhesion—and the liquid is said to adhere to the solid. The experiment which you showed us with the
fine hair-tube, sir, is all due to this adhesive force between the liquid and the solid. The colored
water rose in the tube by capillary attraction. The word capillary means like a hair.

"Capillary attraction takes place because of the adhesive force between the liquid and the sides
of the glass tube. This adhesive force draws the particles of water upwards and makes them adhere to
the sides of the tube."
"But you have not told us yet, Fred," said Mr. Wilson, "what all this has to do with the absorbing
power of porous bodies."
"I am coming to that now, sir," said Fred. "Every pore in a porous body is really a little tube, and
the liquids are absorbed into the pores by capillary attraction, just as the colored liquid rose in the
capillary tube."
"That's capital," said Mr. Wilson. "You've mastered this matter well, Fred. Remember, it is the
same capillary attraction that raises the oil in the lamp wick for the supply of the flame; it is the same
capillary attraction that emptied the tumbler of water when you hung the piece of loose wick over the
edge of the glass; it is the same capillary attraction that allows the soil in the flowerpot to suck up
water from the saucer in which it is placed."
 Lesson 06
More about the Skeleton
The human skeleton, and the skeletons of most of the animals we have examined, are built upon
one general plan as regards the limbs. There are two pairs of limbs. In birds the upper limbs are
modified to form wings, but the structure even here is essentially the same.
Let us examine the human limbs now. The arm has thirty-two distinct bones, and consists of three
parts—an upper arm, a forearm, and a hand; the leg also consists of three corresponding parts—an
upper leg (thigh), a lower leg, and a foot. It contains thirty separate bones.
The upper arm and the thigh are each formed by a single long bone. The forearm consists of two
bones (one larger than the other), jointed at the elbow to the bone of the upper arm. The lower leg
also consists of two bones (one larger than the other), jointed at the knee to the thigh-bone. The knee-
joint, however, differs from the elbow-joint in having a small bone—the kneecap—placed over the
joint. There is no corresponding bone in the arm.
The hand and the foot are built on very much the same plan. The wrist of the one corresponds to
the ankle of the other. The wrist has eight small bones; the ankle seven. The palm of the hand
corresponds to the sole of the foot, and each of them has five bones running through it, which carry the
fingers and toes respectively.

The hand has four fingers and a thumb—each finger being formed of three bones, the thumb of
two. The foot, in its turn, has four toes and a great toe; the great toe having two bones, each of the
others three.
We have only to consider the purposes for which the hand and the foot are respectively designed,
and we must be at once struck with admiration for the manner in which each is adapted to its work. In
the hand, flexibility and easy rapid movement, delicate touch, and firm grasping powers have to be
secured. Hence the wrist bones are small, those of the fingers very long, while the thumb is placed so
as to be able to move in the opposite direction to the fingers. In the foot, we need strength and solidity
of support, consequently the whole of the bones are short, thick, heavy, and clumsy in appearance.
The great toe has no grasping power, corresponding to that of the thumb.

The bone of the upper arm is joined at the shoulder to a large flat bone—the shoulder-blade,
which lies behind the ribs. The shoulder-blade is kept in position in a wonderful way by the collar-
bone. This bone stretches from the top of the breast-bone to the shoulder joint, its outer end being
firmly fixed to the shoulder-blade. It is this bone which forms the prominent part of the shoulder. It
acts as a rigid bar to brace the shoulder-blade up. The two collar-bones in front and the two
shoulder-blades behind form what is known as the shoulder-girdle.

The thigh-bone is joined to the great haunch or hip bone.

 Lesson 07
The Oak Stem
"I had often wondered, sir, at the beautiful markings of the various ornamental woods used by the
cabinet-maker," said Fred, as they were putting the things away after the lesson. "I think I understand
it clearly now."
"I want you to be quite clear as to those medullary rays," said Mr. Wilson. "In all these stems
there are two kinds of matter. There is the hard, fibrous, woody tissue and the softer tissue of the pith.
In the young tree you have seen that the stem is almost all pith, and that the pith is the channel for the
upward passage of the sap. As the new layers of wood are formed round it year by year, the pith
becomes more and more compressed, and it sends out thin walls of its own substance, radiating to the
outside of the stem, so as to separate the woody tissue into wedge-like blocks. These radiating walls
of soft matter are the medullary rays. They carry on the work of the pith, and form channels for the
flow of the sap."

"But the sap does not always rise through the medullary rays, does it, sir?" asked Willie.
"As the tree grows from the outside," said Mr. Wilson, "the older part of the stem is subject to
more and more pressure. The walls of soft matter between the wedges of wood become thinner and
thinner, till they are the finest sheets, and the medullary tissue itself has ceased to be living matter.
After this it no longer carries up the sap. When the stem is cut across, only the thin edges of these
partition walls are seen, and they appear to be mere lines."
"Thank you, sir," said Fred. "These are the lines then that the cabinet-maker calls the silver-grain
of the wood."
"Yes, Fred, they are," said Mr. Wilson. "The beauty of the wood depends upon the closeness of
its texture, and the skill of the workman in cutting it so as to expose this silver grain. Which part of the
woody stem did you say was first formed?"
"The central part of the stem, sir, is the oldest wood in the tree."
"Tell me again what happens to this part as new layers are formed one by one around it?"
 "The outer layers press upon it more and more, sir, and it becomes denser and denser."
"Quite true," said Mr. Wilson, "and it becomes the hardest wood in the tree. It is called
heartwood. Heartwood is always selected where strength and durability are required. The heartwood
becomes darker and more deeply coloured than the layers round it, and it is the graduation of coloring
that makes our cabinet woods so beautiful.
"Where do we find the newly-formed wood in the stem?"
"The last-formed layer of wood is always found on the outside, just under the bark," said Willie.
"It is called the sap-wood. It is formed from the sap which has passed upwards through the stem and
leaves. The sap, after it has flowed back from the leaves, is deposited in this part of the stem, where
it forms the new layer of sap-wood."
"A very good answer, my boy," said Mr. Wilson. "This sap-wood is at first soft, pulpy matter,
and while in that state it affords a convenient channel for the upward passage of the sap, which can no
longer rise through the dead flattened cells of the pith and the medullary rays."
 Lesson 08
Joints
In our lessons on the human skeleton we found that some of the bones, such as those of the skull
and face, are not meant to move. These bones are united firmly together.
The bones of the limbs, on the contrary, provide for every variety of movement. This freedom of
action is due, partly to the large number of individual bones in the limbs, and partly to the manner in
which they are arranged and jointed one with another. Wherever two bones are connected in such a
way that they can move one upon the other, they form a joint. The variety of movement is brought
about by a corresponding variety of joints.
I open and shut my hand, I bend and straighten my arm or my leg, and it is easy to compare these
movements with the backward and forward movements of a door on its hinge. Such joints are known
as hinge-joints. They are the most numerous in the body. We find them at the elbow, the knee, the
wrist, and the ankle, and in the fingers and toes. We have already had occasion to notice the
admirable arrangement of the thumb. It has not only a backward and forward movement, such as the
fingers have, it can move also from side to side in a direction at right angles to that. It should be
carefully noted that the remarkable freedom of movement in the thumb is not brought about altogether
by the structure of the thumb itself. The thumb works upon a long bone, which forms the link to
connect it with the wrist. It is the joint between this bone and one of the wrist bones which provides
for the double movement.

Our lessons on the snake and its structure have made us already familiar with the nature of a
ball-and-socket joint. You know that in joints of this kind the moving bone has a rounded knob—a sort
of ball—at its extremity, and this ball fits into a cup-shaped hollow in the other bone. The ball of the
one bone plays freely in the hollow cup of the other, and this allows of very extensive movement in
any direction.
The bone of the upper arm and the bone of the thigh have each a round knob or ball, which fits
and moves freely in a corresponding cup or socket in the shoulder-blade and hip-bone respectively.
This kind of joint allows of the widest freedom—a fact which is well illustrated in our drill
exercises. The leg provides for the same kind of movement as the arm, but they differ in extent. We
cannot swing the legs as freely as we can the arms. The reason is that the cup in the hip-joint is very
deep, and the ball of the thigh-bone is deeply lodged in it. Consequently the movement there is not so
extensive as at the shoulder joint, where the cup is shallow.
Now think of the head and its movements on the neck. We are able to move the head forward and
backward, as in the act of nodding, and to depress it towards either shoulder. This, you will readily
see, is the work of a double hinge-joint. The joint is between the base of the skull and the top-most
vertebra on which it rests.
But we have only to turn the head right and left, to be reminded that there is another movement
provided for, besides that of the hinge. In the top-most vertebra which carries the skull there is a
small hollow ring, into which fits an upright peg or pivot of the second vertebra. When the head turns
right and left, it is this top-most vertebra which really moves round on the peg of the second, and in
moving it carries the skull round with it.

Such a joint is known as a pivot-joint.

There is one very important arrangement that must not be lost sight of in connection with all
these joints. The joints are designed for movement, and all movements must be smooth and easy.
There must be no friction, no grating.
If we examine some piece of machinery, we shall find all the working surfaces perfectly smooth,
and we know that the machinist is careful to keep these smooth surfaces well oiled, so that they may
glide easily over each other. The movable bones are constructed on much the same principle. Their
working surfaces are covered with a smooth coating of gristle, and each joint is enclosed in a
membrane, which has the power of preparing and pouring into it a peculiar oily fluid known as
synovia, or joint-oil. In this way nature provides not only the machinery, but the joint-oil to lubricate
it, so that it may work easily and smoothly.
 Lesson 09
Properties of Bodies
"Are you coming with me, boys?" asked Mr. Wilson, as he passed out of the playground gate,
and in a moment Fred and Willie were trudging along by his side.
"Well," said he, "what do you think of the force of cohesion now?"
"I can see, sir," said Fred, "that it has more to do with solid bodies and their properties than I
thought it had. In our early lessons we learned something about the properties of bodies. We are now
able to say not only that a body has certain properties, but to tell the reason why it has these
properties. If I were to scratch a piece of lead, for instance, with an iron nail, a boy in one of the
lower classes might say that I was able to do it because the iron is harder than the lead. So it is, but
he would not be able to say why the iron is harder than the lead.
"We can now tell this from the force of cohesion. When the force of cohesion in a solid is great,
the molecules are held very closely together, and the body is hard. When there is little cohesion, the
molecules are more loosely held together, and the body is soft. It is because the particles of the soft
body are held loosely, that a hard substance is able to force them aside, as it does when it scratches
them.
"We learned, too, that some bodies are brittle and break with a blow; some are tough and will
not break; some are flexible and bend easily without breaking; and some are elastic and will not only
bend, but will even spring back to their original shape when let go.
"Our old lessons taught us all this, but we can now go back to the force of cohesion to find the
reason why certain bodies have these properties. When the cork, whalebone, lead, cane, and wire are
bent and twisted, their molecules are forced out of their proper position. The whalebone, cork, and
cane spring back to their former shape again, because each molecule takes up its old position."
"I have been thinking about the metals, sir," said Willie. "Most of the metals are very tenacious,
and it is this property which renders them so useful. Their tenacity, I suppose, is entirely due to the
force of cohesion between their molecules."
"It is, Willie," said Mr. Wilson. "A body is brittle when it possesses very little cohesion; it is
tenacious when cohesion in it is strong. It is only the tenacious metals that are malleable and ductile.
When a piece of metal is beaten out thin, or drawn out into wire, it really means that its molecules
have been forced into different positions, and because they do this without losing their cohesion, the
metal holds together. No metal can be malleable or ductile unless there is a very strong force of
cohesion between its molecules."
"I remember you told us too, sir," said Fred, "that cohesion will account for the different weight
of different bodies. In a heavy body the force of cohesion is stronger than in a light one; the molecules
are held more closely together."
"Quite true," said Mr. Wilson, "and as a result of that, more matter is massed together into a
given bulk, than if there were less cohesion."
 Lesson 10
How the Bones Move
Our lesson on the joints showed us the bones of the body in action—some moving with a simple
backward and forward hinge-like movement, some swinging round in a circle by means of a ball and
socket, and some, again, rotating on a peg or pivot. But have you asked yourselves why these bones
do not slip out of their places with their work? Let me tell you the reason. At each joint there are
strong gristly bands, called ligaments, which hold or bind the bones together, while at the same time
they do not interfere with their freedom of movement.

We will now turn our attention to the force which puts this machinery in motion. If the white skin
all over the body were stripped away the red flesh would be seen beneath. This red flesh is muscle.
The muscles are the agents by which all movements of the body are carried out. Wherever the greatest
power of movement is required, there we will find the largest and strongest muscles. In some parts of
the body, such as in the legs and arms, the muscles are placed in large solid-looking masses around
the bone. In other parts we see that the muscles extend between the bones. The skull has a very slight
covering of muscle beneath the skin, for the simple reason that the bones of the skull do not move, and
huge muscles are not required.
A lean piece of flesh from the body of an animal would be found on examination to consist of
separate bundles of flesh, arranged side by side in such a way that each has the power of moving or
sliding about independently of the rest. These separate bundles of flesh are the muscles.
A muscle consists of a thick, solid middle part, which is called the belly, and two tapering ends.
As a rule the muscle is attached to two bones—one fixed, the other movable. It is not joined directly
to the bones. The tapering ends usually terminate in tough, whitish, leather-like cords, which we call
tendons. It is the tendon which binds the muscle to the bone.

We have now to inquire how the muscles act. The substance of which they are formed is very
elastic, but their elasticity is that of sponge or cork, not that of India-rubber. You remember of course
that cork and sponge contract or shrink up with pressure, and expand or spring back when that
pressure is removed. India-rubber, on the other hand, expands when pulled, and contracts when let go.
The muscles then contract when they are interfered with.
You will understand the action of the muscles if you straighten the right arm, place the left hand
on the fleshy part of it above the elbow, and then bend it upwards to the shoulder.
That part which swells up under your hand as the arm bends, is the great biceps muscle. It is
connected at one end with the upper arm, and at the other with the forearm. When it contracts it
becomes shorter and thicker. This is why you feel it swell up under your hand. Of course, as it
becomes shorter, it draws up the forearm. There are more than 500 distinct muscles in the body, and
this is their common manner of working.
 Lesson 11
The Oak and the Fir (a Comparison)
"In our last lesson on trees we took the oak as the representative of the dicotyledons or exogens,"
said Mr. Wilson. "There are a large family of timber trees—the firs and pines—which are usually
classed with the exogens, but they differ from the oak and other timber trees in many important
particulars. Let us find out these points of difference. Here are some acorns. These, you know, are the
fruit of the oak tree. Take some of them in your hands and remove the seed from the outer shell. If you
open it carefully you will see at once why it is called a dicotyledon. It has the usual double seed-
leaves.

"Now look at this pinecone. This, you know, is the fruit of the fir and pine family of trees. Notice
that it consists of a number of dry hard scales. Each scale is a single fruit. It is the ripened pistil of the
flower, but the pistil in this instance, instead of being a hollow receptacle for the seed, is simply a
leaf, with the seed attached to its upper surface.
 "As the cone ripens, this pistil-leaf becomes a dry scale, which curls up, and sheds its seed,
leaving it to blow away or fall to the ground.
"The firs and pines are often called cone-bearing trees, because they are the only trees which
bear fruit of this kind. "What is the first distinction we have found then between the oak and the fir?"
"The fruit of the oak," said Fred, "is a nut, which we call an acorn, and its seed is a dicotyledon;
the fruit of the fir is a cone with dry scale-seeds."
"We will next examine the stems of the oak and the fir," said Mr. Wilson. "I have a good
specimen of each of them here. If you look into them closely, you will not be able to find any
difference in the appearance of the two. In each stem there is the same central pith-spot, with the same
ringlayers of wood round it, and the same outer covering of bark.

"But there is a difference between them, and as it is not one which you can find out for
yourselves, I must tell you what it is. The pines and the firs are resinous trees. Their stems yield the
inflammable substances known as turpentine and resin. It is easy to detect the resinous smell in these
woods. The oak stem is not resinous. It yields no liquid of any sort. Hence, you see, we have a second
distinction between these two families of trees.
"But we must pass on now to the leaves. Here are some oak leaves. Take them in your hands and
examine them. Now describe them."
"They are like most of the common leaves," said Willie, "and consist of a blade and a foot-stalk.
There are ribs crossing the blade, and a network of veins running all over it."
"Quite correct," said Mr. Wilson. "They are the usual leaves of the dicotyledon; and, moreover,
the microscope would show us the breathing pores, studded all over the blade.
"Now look at the pine leaves," he continued. "Here they are. They are more like green spikes
than leaves. They have nothing of the shape of other leaves. They are called needle-shaped leaves.
They grow in a cluster, and there are from two to five of them to form the cluster. They have small
scales at their base. Thus, you see, the difference in the leaves of the two trees makes another
distinction."

"Are not the firs and pines evergreens, sir?" asked Fred.
"Yes, they are," said Mr. Wilson, "with the single exception of the larch. This, like most other
trees, sheds its leaves in the autumn. All the rest of the pine and fir family are evergreens, and in this
again they differ from the oak."
 Lesson 12
Gravity
"We know that if we let a ball, a stone, or a body of any kind drop from our hands, it must come
to the ground," said Mr. Wilson. "Now which of you has ever seen a balloon floating in the air? You
all have. Very well. Perhaps one of you may have seen the men in the balloon throwing something
out?"
"I have seen them throw the sand out to lighten the balloon," said Willie.
"Quite true," said Mr. Wilson, "and what became of the sand?"
"It fell to the ground."
"Yes, Willie, all bodies fall if unsupported, and they always fall in one direction—downwards,
towards the ground.
"What do we call the direction opposite to this?"
"Upwards. 'Up' means towards the sky; 'down' means towards the ground. I can throw a ball
upwards to a certain height, but it must fall downwards to the ground again."
"Now I want you to think for a few minutes about this earth on which we live," continued Mr.
Wilson. "You know that it is a great ball, and that you and I and everybody live and move about on the
outside of the ball. I will draw a circle to represent the earth. Suppose we wish to show some very
tall building, towering up into the sky; I must represent it by a line drawn perpendicular to the earth,
that is, perpendicular to the circle itself, without troubling whether it looks upright on the board.
"But we must not forget that other people, in other parts of the world, have high buildings too.
Suppose we draw some more. You see they all point in different directions, but they are all
perpendicular to the circle, which represents the earth.
 "Now watch what I do next. I will draw a straight line through each of these perpendicular
towers, and produce them through the circle. What do you see now?"
"Every one of these lines passes through the center of the circle, sir," said Fred.
"Quite right, but the tops of these towers all point towards the sky, and the bottoms of them are
all on the ground. In other words, the tops point up, and the bottoms down.
"Now think once more about the man in the balloon. Let him drop another stone, while you watch
it fall. We will draw a line to show the direction of the falling stone.
"Now produce this line. What do you see?"
"This line too passes through the centre," said Fred.
"Now I think we can understand," continued Mr. Wilson, "that 'up' always means towards the
sky; 'down' always means towards the center of the earth.
"So then we have learned at last that all bodies, when unsupported, fall downwards, and that
means towards the center of the earth. But why should they fall, and fall always in this one direction?
They fall because the earth attracts or draws them towards itself. There is a force which acts from the
center of the earth, and draws all other bodies towards that spot. We call this force gravity.
"It is the force of gravity which causes the feeling of downward pressure when we hold different
bodies in the hand. The earth is trying to draw them downwards towards itself. We say they are
heavy. It is the force of gravity which gives all substances weight. The very word gravity means
weight.
"I daresay you are wondering," continued Mr. Wilson, "why the earth should draw some bodies
more than others. It is because the earth attracts bodies in proportion to the amount of matter which
they contain, and some bodies, as we have seen, contain more matter than others."
 Lesson 13
Vertebrates and Invertebrates
"I want you to think about some of the animals of our former lessons," said Mr. Wilson.

"Cats, dogs, sheep, horses, birds, snakes, frogs, and fishes are all alike in one respect, and all
differ from such animals as bees, butterflies, beetles, and spiders in that same one respect. You know
you have a backbone—you can feel the bony knobs or projections down the middle of your back—
and you have lately been learning many things about the hard bony skeleton, which supports and gives
shape to your body. We ourselves are like the cat, dog, sheep, bird, snake, and fish in this respect, for
they too have a backbone and an internal bony skeleton.
"Butterflies, beetles, spiders, and hosts of other animals have no backbone at all. This
distinction enables us to make our great classification of the animal kingdom. We arrange all animals
in two groups—those which have a backbone, those which have not a backbone.
"If you think for a moment about this backbone, you will be able to tell me why the name is not a
good one."
"It is not a single bone all in one piece, sir," said Willie, "it is a string or column of separate
bony rings, which fit closely together."
 "I think, too, you can tell me how many of these bony rings you have in your own backbone,"
said Mr. Wilson.
"I have thirty-three now, sir, but when I become a man there will be only twenty-six, because
some of the bones grow together."
"Quite right. Most of the animals we meet with have more of these separate pieces in their
backbone than we have. You, of course, remember that snakes have a very great number. What is the
object of so many separate pieces?"
"It is to give freedom of movement, sir," said Fred, "for although each bone can move only to a
slight extent, this long chain of bones gives the whole column great flexibility."
"Very good, Fred. Now tell me the name which we give to these separate bones."
"We call them vertebrae, sir."
"Right. You must try and remember that the name comes from the Latin word verto, which
signifies 'I turn,' and then you will see the reason why it is given. By means of these vertebrae we and
other animals can turn, move, or bend our backs and necks freely.
"As the backbone is made up of vertebrae, it is sometimes called the vertebral column, and all
animals which have a backbone are called vertebrate animals or vertebrates. They form the first sub-
kingdom in the animal world. The other sub-kingdom comprises all animals which have not a
backbone. They are called invertebrate animals or invertebrates. 'In' means 'not.'
"You called these vertebrae bony rings, Fred. Why did you give them this name?"
"Each vertebra, sir, is pierced through from top to bottom with a rounded hole, and as the bones
fit together, these holes also fit to each other, so as to form one continuous tube through the column.
This tube is called the vertebral canal, and sometimes the spinal canal. The spine is another name for
the backbone."
"All this is very good, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "Can you tell me anything more about that canal?"
"The upper part of the canal, sir, opens out into the cavity of the skull. The brain fills the skull,
and part of it, called the spinal cord, passes out from the skull and runs through the spinal canal. It is
the great nerve of the body."
"Just so, and now remember," said Mr. Wilson, "that this arrangement is not only true as regards
ourselves, but for all vertebrate animals. Every animal that has a backbone has also a skull,
containing a brain and a nerve-cord running from it through the spinal cavity.
"Now I want to notice how the vertebrae of different animals are joined. Can you tell me how
our own are joined?"
"Each vertebra rests upon a pad of elastic cartilage, sir," said Fred. "These pads allow a certain
amount of movement, but prevent one bone from grating against another."
"Quite right, Fred, and this is the arrangement in most of the vertebrate animals. Now let us think
for a moment about the vertebrae of the snake. How are they joined?"
"They are joined by ball-and-socket joints, sir; these joints give the creatures their extreme
flexibility, and their rapid gliding movement.
"In fishes each vertebra has a sort of cup or socket on either side, and it is only the rims of these
cups which fit together, the hollow being filled with a sort of fluid."
 Lesson 14
Timber
"The different varieties of wood furnished by our timber trees owe their value to special
characteristics, such as their hardness and durability, the beauty of their grain, or the ease with which
they may be worked and polished. As a rule we may judge of the hardness of wood by its action when
it is put into water. Some, such as ebony and lignum-vitae, are so heavy that they sink in the water.
Spanish mahogany and oak float, but the upper edge of the wood is on a level with the surface of the
water. Yellow pine-wood floats higher out of the water than these, larch higher than the pine, and
common poplar higher still. What is the explanation of this?"
"The ebony and lignum-vitae are the heaviest of these woods, poplar the lightest."
"But why are some bodies heavier than others?
"Because the force of cohesion binds their molecules more closely together. There is more
matter in them."
"Exactly. The molecules of the ebony and lignum-vitae are very densely packed; the substance of
the poplar-wood is loose compared with them. But what has this to do with the hardness of the
wood?"
"It is a general rule that when the molecules of a body are densely packed, owing to a strong
force of cohesion, the body is not only heavy but hard. This explains why we are able to judge as to
the hardness of different woods by placing them in water. Ebony and lignum-vitae represent very hard
woods; poplar is a very soft wood. The mahogany, oak, pine, and larch show varying steps between
the two extremes."
"The strength and durability of timber depend mainly upon the part of the tree from which it is
cut, but the age of the tree must also be taken into account. It is important to remember that trees, like
animals, grow till they reach maturity, but after that they begin to decay.
"The age for reaching maturity depends on the nature of the tree, as well as on the soil and
climate. The tree which is felled at its maturity yields the best timber. At this period the whole of the
trunk, except of course the new sapwood, is equally good. In a young tree the heartwood is always the
best; but after the tree has passed maturity, this heartwood is the first to decay. In the young tree, on
the other hand, the sapwood is always the worst part of the timber, and is liable to decay quickly. But
after the tree has reached its maturity, even the sap-wood becomes good useful timber.
"The usefulness of timber, moreover, depends upon the proper seasoning of the wood. Newly-
felled timber is unfit for use. It is not only weak, but it is liable to warp, twist, and change its form. In
this state it is known as green wood. The outer surfaces, acted upon by the air, crack and split more
than the inside. All timber requires to be well seasoned to make it durable. It must be cut up by the
saw while green, and exposed to the air for a long time. The result of this exposure is to gradually dry
the whole of the wood. The surrounding air first absorbs all moisture from the surface, and then as the
outside dries, the air by degrees finds its way to the inside, and the whole becomes uniformly dry.
"With some woods this seasoning or drying is done in an artificial way. The wood is placed in a
drying-room, and a current of warm dry air is passed over it. This hot dry air soon absorbs all the
moisture from the wood, and seasons it as effectually as years of exposure would have done."
 Lesson 15
The Nerves
You know that the skull is merely a hollow box intended to hold and protect the brain. You know,
too, that this box rests on the topmost vertebra, to which it is jointed by a double-hinge joint. In the
floor of the box, and just where it rests on the vertebra, there is a round hole, and in this vertebra, as
well as in every one of the vertebra in the column, is a corresponding hole.
These vertebrae standing one above the other as we might stand a string of reels, form a long
continuous tube from the bottom of the column upwards to the skull. We call this tube the vertebral
canal, or the spinal canal.
The brain fills the whole cavity of the skull and a portion of it extends downwards from the skull
and fills the spinal canal. This part is known as the spinal cord.
This brain matter is totally different from the muscles or flesh. It is a soft grayish-pink substance,
more like marrow than flesh. From the brain and spinal cord extend outwards through the body long,
white, silvery-looking threads—the nerves. Some of these nerves spread themselves all over the
surface of the skin, and it is through them that we are able to feel the hardness or softness, the heat or
cold, the roughness or smoothness of various bodies. Others spread themselves among the muscles of
the body. They are the foremen or overseers who set the muscles to work.
 When we wish to lift our hand or turn our head, it is the nerves that make the muscles do our
bidding. If the nerves were destroyed or injured (as they are sometimes by paralysis), we should find
ourselves quite unable to lift the limb, however much we might wish to do it.
But whence do the nerves get their orders? The brain is the chief center. The nerves may be aptly
compared to a multitude of telegraph wires stretching into every part of the body. They carry
messages to and fro.
Let me give you an idea of the kind of messages they carry. What would you do if someone,
without your seeing him, placed a hot poker near your hand? You would instantly draw your hand
away. To you this would appear the simplest of actions, but in reality the nerves have been very busy.
Some of them first carried up a message to the brain, to say that the hand was being burned, then the
brain sent back, by another set of nerves, an order to the muscles to pull the hand away. The muscles
would not act without this order.
But besides being the overseer of the muscles and their work, the brain is the seat of the will, the
intellect, the memory, the emotions and affections. Moreover, it is by the brain and its nerves that we
see, hear, smell, taste, and touch.
 Lesson 16
Timber—Its Shrinkage and Preservation
Our last lesson on timber dealt with the methods of seasoning the wood to render it fit for use.
During the seasoning process the wood shrinks, but always according to a natural law. The amount of
shrinkage in length is so small that it may be altogether disregarded. The shrinkage takes place in the
breadth of the plank.
If we think of the structure of the exogenous stem we shall see at once the reason for this. The
woody fibers are arranged lengthwise down the stem in irregular circles, and these fibers are bound
together by the radiating plates, known as the medullary rays or the silver grain. This silver grain is
not of the same nature as the woody fibres. It resembles the pith in structure. As the drying process of
the seasoning goes on, the woody fibers contract or shrink in bulk. But they can only shrink by tearing
away, at the same time, the substance of the medullary rays. That is to say, the shrinking of the woody
bundles finds relief by splitting the timber in the direction of the medullary rays. This explains why
timber, after it is cut, and before it is properly seasoned, always cracks and splits on the outside more
than the inside of the mass.
It is interesting to note the behavior of a trunk of one of the stronger exogenous woods, such as
oak or beech, when it is cut up into planks. Imagine a trunk cut lengthwise by the saw into seven
planks. After the planks had been properly seasoned, the middle one would be found to retain its
original thickness in the center, but the edges of the board would be thinner. The breadth of the plank
would remain the same as at first. The medullary rays, being closer together towards the center of the
trunk, offer greater resistance there to the tearing than at the edges. The planks on either side of the
middle one would, from the same cause, become bent out of shape, or pulled round into a convex
from the center of the trunk, and each board would be narrower.

Timber, even after it has been well seasoned, is liable to decay from many causes. Moisture and
changes in temperature are its worst enemies. They not only lead to the decay of the wood, but they
encourage the attacks of insects and worms, and the wood gradually crumbles away. Where timber
structures have to be exposed to changes of air, light, heat, and moisture, something must be done to
protect them from the effects of all these.
All woodwork is covered with a coating of paint or tar for this very purpose. Both these
substances are impervious to water, and will not allow the wet to penetrate into the wood. Tar itself,
moreover, is a powerful preventer of decay. This explains why, in fixing a wooden post into the
ground, we soak the lower end in tar, or stand it in pitch, and why ships, boats, and barges are always
kept well painted and tarred.
Another enemy to timber structures is dry rot The simplest and best way of preventing this is to
saturate the wood in oil.
 Lesson 17
Cohesion in Liquids
"We have seen something of the effect which the force of cohesion has on the molecules of a
solid body," said Mr. Wilson. "I want now to study this same force in its effects on the molecules of
liquids. In a solid the force of cohesion is so great that the molecules cannot shift about. Those, which
today form the extreme end of this iron rod, will not tomorrow move into the middle, but will remain
where they are.
"In liquids there is very little cohesion. The molecules of a liquid are free to move about, roll
one over the other, and change their places. Here is a tumbler of water. See, I can move this stick
about through the water with scarcely any effort, because the molecules of the water are easily pushed
aside.
"Come to the front, Fred," he continued, "and do the same with this basin of peas. The peas yield
readily to the pressure and give way. You have only to imagine the water made up of extremely fine
round molecules, many million times smaller than a pea, and you will quickly understand it all. The
molecules of the water, having little cohesion between them, move freely as the stick pushes them
aside.

"I have here another tumbler half full of treacle. Notice what happens when I slant it on one side.
Take the tumbler of water in one hand and the tumbler of treacle in the other and slant both of them.
You see the treacle moves very slowly.
"Now stir the two. It is much more difficult to move the stick through the treacle than through the
water. Why is this?"
"I suppose it is because there is more cohesion between the molecules of the treacle than
between the molecules of the water," said Fred, "and therefore they separate more slowly."
"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "We call liquids, which are like treacle in this respect, viscous
liquids. Can you think of any of them?"
"Tar, glycerine, liquid gum, and castoroil would all act in the same way," said Fred.
"There are some liquids, on the other hand," said Mr. Wilson, "such as alcohol, ether, and
benzoline, that have less cohesion than water. Their molecules move about very freely indeed. We
call them mobile liquids.
"Now let us take another step. Your very early lessons taught you that one of the differences
between a liquid and a solid is that the liquid has no shape of its own, but always takes the shape of
the vessel which holds it. We are now in a position to see the reason for this.
"The reason is two-fold. First, the molecules of the liquid, having little cohesion, are free to
move about. Secondly, the force of gravity acts upon each individual molecule, and draws it
downwards towards the bottom of the vessel. The molecules cannot stand in a heap, because those
above press on those below, and push tightly in to every corner of the vessel. They follow one
another downwards and outwards in this way until they meet with the bottom and sides of the vessel.
This is why a liquid can have no shape of its own, but at once takes the shape of the vessel which
holds it.
"Those same early lessons taught you that although flour, or sawdust, or sugar may be piled up in
a heap in a basin, it is impossible to make water stand in a heap.
"The reason is that the force of gravity draws the molecules of the water downwards, and as they
have little cohesion, they do not resist, but roll and tumble one over the other, until the surface is
level. The force of gravity is greater than the force of cohesion. The sawdust, on the contrary, stands
piled up in a heap, because the force of cohesion between its particles is greater than the force of
gravity."
 Lesson 18
Circulation of the Blood
We have studied the body as a living machine. This machine requires to be nourished, or it
cannot do its work. It is the great work of the blood to feed the tissues in every part of the body. This
explains why blood is found in all parts of the body. We cannot prick ourselves even with the finest
needle without drawing blood.
One of the first things to learn about this blood is the fact that it does not rest stagnant as water
does in a bottle; it is always on the move. It flows through the body in a continuous stream, round and
round, returning to the same spot again and again. This incessant onward flow of the blood through the
body is known as the circulation of the blood.

All the blood in the body is contained in pipes or tubes, which we usually call blood-vessels.
Taking the arm and hand as an illustration, it is clear that there must be a flow of blood down the arm
to the fingers, and a return flow up the arm again. Those vessels which convey blood down the arm
towards the hand are called arteries; those which carry it back are veins. But what causes the blood
to keep up this incessant flow? It is pumped through the body by the heart.
The heart is a pear-shaped organ, about the size of one's fist. It is situated in the middle of the
chest, is made entirely of muscle, and contains four chambers of equal size. The two upper chambers
are called auricles, the two lower ones are named ventricles; so that there is a right and a left auricle,
and a right and a left ventricle. Each auricle communicates with the ventricle below it by means of a
hole in the partition which separates them, but there is no communication of any kind between the
right and left sides of the heart.
 It is the work of the veins to carry back the blood from all parts of the body to the heart. These
veins, beginning at first as mere hair-tubes, unite again and again as they get nearer to the heart. All
the blood from the upper parts of the body is brought back to the heart at last by one great vein; all
that from the lower parts by another.
These two great veins open into the right auricle of the heart. I told you the heart is a muscular
organ, and you know it is the nature of a muscle to contract when it is interfered with. There are
certain nerves whose business it is to act as overseers of the heart, and see that it does its work. How
vigilant these nerve overseers must be! The heart, under their control, begins its work at the very
commencement of life, and never rests for a single moment till death comes.
 This work is always done in one way. Auricles and ventricles do not work together. Both
auricles begin to contract at the same moment, but while this is going on the ventricles, left to
themselves, expand. The instant the auricles cease working, the ventricles begin, but while the
ventricles contract, the auricles are expanding. Hence, when the auricles are contracted to their
smallest size, the ventricles are stretched out to their fullest, and when the ventricles, in their turn,
finish their contraction, the auricles are expanded to their utmost.
The auricles, at the moment they commence to contract, are stretched to their fullest extent, and
have been filled with blood from the two great veins. The act of contracting must squeeze the blood
out of the auricle. It cannot return, because of the great mass of blood behind in those veins. It flows
onward into the right ventricle, which has expanded to receive it.
The ventricle is no sooner filled than it begins, in its turn, to contract, and so force out the blood.
As it contracts it closes the orifice between it and the auricle above, so that the blood is prevented
from returning. It finds an easy passage along a great vessel which opens out from the ventricle, and
leads away from the heart to the lungs, and that is the course it now takes.
This great vessel is called the pulmonary artery. It conveys the blood from the right ventricle of
the heart to the lungs. The blood, after passing through the lungs, is collected up and brought back
again by the pulmonary veins. These veins open into the left auricle, and the rest of the work is just a
repetition of what took place in the right side of the heart. The auricle expands to receive the blood,
and when full begins to contract. As it contracts it drives the blood from the left auricle into the left
ventricle, through the hole between them.
When the ventricle next contracts, this hole closes, and the blood cannot return. There is a great
artery—the largest artery in the body—opening out from the left ventricle, and the way through it is
open. Hence the blood flows along in that direction.
This artery is the aorta. It branches out into smaller arteries, and so carries the blood through the
body. The smallest of these branching arteries break up at last into still finer tubes—so fine, indeed,
that they are the merest hair-tubes. They are called capillaries, from a Latin word which means "a
hair." These unite again and form the commencement of the veins, so that the capillaries form the link
between the smallest arteries and the smallest veins.
 Lesson 19
Timber—Its Uses
The trunks of all our trees yield wood. The only distinction between timber and wood is that the
timber trees are so large that their trunks may be sawn up into pieces not only long, but wide and thick
as well. Such pieces of wood we call logs or balks of timber. They may be used in that state, or they
may be sawn up into planks. In any case, by the term timber we mean great balks or planks of wood,
which, from their size and quality, are fit to be used in engineering and building. For all such
purposes strength and durability are, of course, the primary objects.

Amongst the chief of the timber trees are the ash, beech, cedar, elm, fir, hornbeam, larch, lime,
mahogany, oak, poplar, teak, etc. The various ornamental woods used by the cabinet-maker form a
class by themselves, and are not included under the head of timber. Among these are the birch, box,
cherry, ebony, maple, rosewood, satin-wood, walnut, etc.
The special qualities of each individual wood render it specially fitted for some particular kind
of work. Let us examine a few varieties of wood.
1. The Ash. —This wood is prized for its great toughness and elasticity. It is coarse in texture
and of considerable strength. It is much used in building and engineering. It is the principal wood
used by the wheelwright, on account of its elasticity. He makes the spokes of wheels and the shafts of
carriages of this wood. For the same reason it is specially fitted for all purposes where severe shocks
and wrenches have to be provided against. It is the best wood for making hammer-shafts and the
handles of tools generally.
 2. The Beech. —This wood is almost as strong as oak, but it is specially distinguished for its
closeness of grain and the even smoothness of its surface. It polishes readily, and is a beautiful wood
when it is so cut as to skillfully expose the silver grain. It is much used for furniture, and it is also
largely employed, because of its closeness, toughness, and strength, for making cogs for mill-wheels.
For purposes such as these it requires to be kept very dry, for it quickly decays in lamp situations. It
is, on the other hand, are markable fact that when it is used for purposes in which it is kept constantly
in water, beech-wood shows considerable endurance.
 3. The Elm. —This is a rough, cross-grained wood of remarkable strength and toughness. It is
specially suitable for all sorts of rough purposes, as it is less liable to split by the driving of bolts
than other woods.

Elm is very durable under water, but it rapidly decays if it is subjected to frequent changes from
wet to dry. Hence it is not a good wood for exposure to the atmosphere in a climate such as ours. Its
great defect is its great liability to warp and twist and get out of shape, while as regards strength,
rigidity, toughness, and endurance, it is certainly inferior to oak.
 The wheelwright makes the nave of his wheel of elm-wood; it is also used for making pulley-
blocks, and heavy, naval gun-carriages.
 Lesson 20
The Vertebrates
The great sub-kingdom of vertebrate animals includes such widely differing creatures as the
horse, pigeon, herring, frog, and snake—creatures which it would be impossible to study in one
group. We must find out in what points the various members of the sub-kingdom differ, and that will
help us to a further classification.
Boys and girls living in the country may have seen the young calf sucking milk from its mother’s
body. All must have seen the little kittens doing the same thing.
The milk comes from "teats" which the little one sucks. The Latin name for "teat" is mamma, and
as all animals which suckle their young are provided with teats, we give them the name of mammals.

If we put our hand on any of these animals, we feel that their bodies are warm. They have warm
blood. A fish and a frog always feel cold and clammy, because their blood is not warm. You know too
that the colour of the blood of a horse, a sheep, a cow, or a pig is red.
If we examined the heart of a sheep, a horse, a rabbit, or any one of these mammals, we should
find it to consist of four distinct chambers—two auricles and two ventricles, exactly the same as our
own. All mammals, too, breathe through lungs as we do. We ourselves belong to the class—mammals.
You have all seen the hen with her little chickens. How does she rear them? She, and birds of all
kinds, lay eggs, and sit close upon them to hatch them with the warmth of their own body. The little
ones break the shell and come out when fully formed, and the parent bird feeds them, but not with
milk. She searches about for little morsels of solid food, which from the first the young ones are able
to eat.
Birds, like mammals, have two pairs of limbs, but the front pair are specially fitted for flying.
We call them wings.
If we place our hand on a bird of any sort, we feel that its body is warm. It has warm blood, like
the mammals, and like them, too, it breathes through lungs, and the heart consists of four chambers.
Mammals have almost every variety of covering for their bodies, but birds of all kinds are
clothed with feathers.
Now I want you to think of the snakes of our earlier lessons. These animals belong to the class
called reptiles, which includes lizards, tortoises, and turtles, and the great crocodiles and alligators
of the tropics. The word reptile means creeping thing. It is not a good name, for all these animals do
not creep, and some of them are extremely nimble and agile.
Reptiles produce their young from eggs. But although they breathe through lungs, as birds and
mammals do, their blood is cold, and the heart has generally three chambers only. Some, however, of
the more vigorous among the reptile family have four chambers in the heart. That is to say, there is a
partial division of the ventricle, which amounts to the same thing.
The frog-like animals form a class by themselves, and are known as Batrachia. They include
frogs, toads, and newts. They are hatched by the heat of the sun from eggs which the mother has laid in
the water. They commence life in the water, breathing, like fishes, through gills. The heart has only
two chambers—an auricle and a ventricle.
You know that the young frog, or tadpole, gradually loses its fish-like form, develops lungs
instead of gills, and legs to walk and hop about on the earth. It then leaves the water and enters upon a
new life, breathing air through lungs, like all other land animals. Its blood is cold; the heart of the
fully-developed frog has three chambers—two auricles and one ventricle.
Last in the list of vertebrate animals come the fishes. They produce their young from eggs. They
breathe all their life through gills, and the heart has only two chambers—an auricle and a ventricle.
They are cold-blooded animals, with no covering for the body but scales. They have a sort of
rudimentary limbs called fins, which serve to propel them through the water.
 Lesson 21
More about Timber
1. The Fir. —The fir and pine family are perhaps the most valuable of all our timber trees,
because they are plentiful, and therefore cheap. The wood of these trees is not so strong nor so
durable as many other kinds of timber, but it is easily worked.

The family comprise a great variety of trees. The most valuable among them are the larch, the
pitch-pine, and the firs and pines of Norway, Sweden, Russia, Germany, and North America. These
trees are all resinous, and yield resin, turpentine, and tar. The pinewoods of North America are said
to be rich enough to supply the whole world with turpentine and resin.
The white and yellow pine of the Canadian forests is not one of the strong or durable woods, but
it is much in demand in this country because it is so easily worked. Engineers make great use of this
wood for models and patterns. Its smoothness of surface, its comparative freedom from knots and
from the liability to warp as well as the ease with which it can be cut, make it specially suitable for
this purpose.
 The Scotch fir yields a very valuable timber, little inferior to oak. It is obtained from Scotland,
Sweden, Norway, and Russia, and is frequently named red pine, red deal, and Riga fir. The spruce
and silver firs are used largely for making ladders, masts of ships, scaffolding, etc.
2. Hornbeam. —This wood, from the closeness of its grain and the remarkable toughness of its
fibers, is employed by engineers for the teeth of cog-wheels. It is also used for making mallet heads.
For these purposes the wood is superior to all others, owing to its stringy structure and its great
cohesive strength.
 3. Mahogany. —This is a beautiful close-grained wood, capable of taking a high polish. It is
remarkably free from liability to shrink, warp, or twist. It is superior to all other woods in its
readiness to take a firm hold of glue. It is highly valued for furniture making, but will not stand
exposure to the weather. The wood of the limbs or branches is preferred for ornamental purposes,
because the grain is closer, richer, and more variegated than in the trunk itself. The mahogany tree is
the king of all the forest trees. In comparison with this giant most other trees look insignificant.
The best wood is that known as Spanish mahogany, which comes from the West Indies.
4. Oak. —The British oak is one of the strongest and most durable of woods. It suffers less than
any other from water, or the changes in climate. It stands first among the hard-wooded timber trees for
its general usefulness. It is highly prized for ship-building purposes. It is also invaluable for making
roofs, for which purpose its lightness, combined with its strength and durability, specially fit it. It is
well—adapted also for the staves for casks, and for carriage wheels. Indeed, it is the best possible
wood for all purposes where lightness and strength are required in combination.
 5. Teak. —Of all the hard woods imported into this country, teak is the most valuable. It is useful
for all purposes in which we employ oak. It is equally durable, and is not subject to decay through
exposure to a hot climate, nor from worms or insects. It is largely used in shipbuilding, and in making
gun-carriages.
 Lesson 22
Further Properties of Liquids
"One of the first things we learn about water is that it flows," said Mr. Wilson. "We rarely see
water still. The slight cohesive force between its molecules enables it to move easily, and as a
consequence wherever we meet with water, it is almost always on the move. It moves, or flows
along, in the streams and rivers just as we see it flow along the gutters in the road. Let us see if we
can discover the reason for this constant flowing. I have here a glass tube bent round in the form of the
letter U. I will fill one arm of the tube with water. Notice what happens. The water, you see, passes at
once into the other arm. It flows till it reaches exactly the same height in both arms of the tube, and
there remains level. Here is a tumbler of water standing on the table. What do you notice about the
surface of the water? The surface of the water remains level while the tumbler stands on the level
surface. Now watch what takes place when I tilt the tumbler on one side. The water at once runs
towards that side, and then remains level. You will perhaps see this better with the garden watering-
pot. Here is the pot. We will fill it to the brim with water.

"Now, Fred, come to the front, and tell us where the water stands in the spout."
"It stands at the top of the spout, sir, just on a level with the water in the pot itself."
"Is the water flowing (moving) now?"
"No, sir; it is quite still."
"Pour some of it away, and then tell us how high the water stands in the spout."
"It is not so high as it was, sir, but it is exactly on a level with the water in the pot."
 "Quite right," said Mr. Wilson, "and at that level it remains perfectly still. Now tilt the watering
pot, as we tilted the tumbler, and let us see what will happen. The water in both spout and pot now
stands level and still again, even though the pot has been tilted; but if we tilt it a little more, the water
will run out of the spout, in trying to get on the same level as that in the pot.

"Water flows to find its own level. It will flow till that level is found. When water is at rest its
surface is always level.

"Fountains are constructed on this principle. All that is required is a cistern of water in some
elevated position, with a pipe leading downwards from it. The water will flow down the pipe, and at
the lower end rush upwards in a jet, trying to rise to the same level as the cistern from which it
flowed.
"It is on the very same principle that towns are supplied with water from the water-works. The
reservoirs are placed on elevated ground, and the water which leaves them rushes oil through the
pipes, trying to find the level from which it started.
 "This property of liquids," continued Mr. Wilson, "is turned to account in the spirit-level. If you
examine the instrument you will see there is a small glass tube in it filled with liquid. On a horizontal
surface the liquid in the tube rests level. When it is tilted ever so little, the liquid flows towards that
side. Workmen use this instrument to test the level of their work.

"The liquid in it is not water but alcohol. It is called a spirit-level. Can you tell me why alcohol
is used in preference to water?"

"Alcohol is a very mobile liquid," said Will. "It flows much more freely than water."
"Quite true, my lad," said Mr. Wilson. "A dense liquid would flow too slowly to be of use in this
instrument. There is one other property of water which I want to illustrate to you now. I have here a
bottle with a cork that fits it exactly. I will remove the cork, and fill the bottle with water to the top of
the neck. Now, Fred, take the bottle and push the cork in again. You can only force the cork in by
forcing some of the water out, to make room for it. The water itself refuses to be squeezed into a
smaller space. This is one of the most important and useful properties of water. For the present it will
be sufficient for you to remember that water and all liquids are incompressible."
 Lesson 23
The Invertebrates
In dividing the animal kingdom into two sub-kingdoms, vertebrates and invertebrates, we were
at first guided by one distinction only. We simply inquired whether the animal had a backbone or not.
This has already led us to find out other distinctions. We know now that those animals which have no
backbone, and are therefore called invertebrates, are further distinguished by having no internal bony
skeleton, no skull, and no brain and spinal cord, such as are found in the vertebrate animals.
But there are other points of difference which we must now consider. All the vertebrate animals
have red blood, although in some (the reptiles, Batrachia, and fishes) the blood is cold. In mammals
and birds the blood is warm, but all the invertebrate animals have cold, colorless blood.
Think next of the mouths of a mammal, a bird, a snake, a frog, and a fish. They all move
vertically—that is, up and down. Now many of the invertebrates have no jaws at all. Whenever they
have, the jaws always move horizontally, not up and down.
Again, we have seen that some of the vertebrates breathe through lungs, others through gills. But
how does the air, in every case, reach these breathing organs? It is taken in at the mouth. Even the fish
takes in the water with its mouth, and passes it backwards over the gills, which rob it of the air it
contains. Not one single invertebrate animal uses its mouth in breathing. Some breathe through holes
in their sides, others through long slits in the neck, others, again, through the tail. But they have neither
lungs nor gills.
Let us next turn our attention to the limbs. None of the vertebrate animals have more than four
limbs, but those invertebrates which have limbs at all, usually possess more than four. Thus all
insects have six legs; spiders eight; shrimps, crabs, and lobsters have ten. Many of the insects, in
addition to six legs, have also two pairs of wings.
Now I want you, lastly, to consider the young of the various members in the vertebrate group.
You could not mistake a kitten for a young snake, a bird, a fish, or even for some other mammal.
Why? Because the young ones always resemble their parents. The baby boy has the form of a man; a
calf is merely a little cow; a chick is a tiny hen. They grow bigger as they grow older, that is all. This
is true of all vertebrates with the single exception of the Batrachia. These all commence life as
tadpoles, in the water, and are not like their parents.
A young invertebrate is often a very different sort of creature from its parents. You remember
that the parent insect lays the egg, and that the larva or grub which comes from it is totally unlike its
parent. Think of the caterpillar side by side with the butterfly; the ugly grub or maggot of the bee, fly,
or wasp, side by side with the parent insects.
The egg produces the grub, the grub becomes the pupa, the pupa changes to the perfect insect.
 Lesson 24
Pressure of Liquids
"Fred and Willie, I shall want you to come to the front this morning," said Mr. Wilson, "and help
me with one or two experiments. You shall begin, Fred, by holding this biscuit tin in your hands,
while Will places in it some of these bricks, one by one.
"What do you notice, Fred?"
"The box is getting heavier than it was, sir," said Fred, "and every brick adds to the weight."
"What do you mean by weight?"
"I mean the downward pressure."

"Quite right, Fred; the top brick presses upon the one below, and this transmits the pressure to
the bottom of the box. The whole weight is pressing on the bottom; the bricks do not even touch the
sides of the box.
"Now we will remove the bricks and pour water into the box.
"What do you notice now as the water rises?"
"The downward pressure increases, sir, just as it did when we put the bricks into the box."
"Yes, the upper layers of water (like the upper bricks) press upon those below, and they transmit
the pressure through to the bottom of the box. Liquids press downwards.
"Now stand the box on the table, and I will bore a hole in the side of it. The water, you see, runs
out in a stream. Let us plug up this hole and make another on the opposite side. See, the water flows
out through this hole too. We will plug up this, and I will bore a hole in each of the other sides. Now
watch what happens when I remove the plugs. The water streams out sideways in four different
directions.

"What does this prove?"

"It proves that water presses sideways as well as downwards."
"Right. The upper layers of water (like the upper bricks) press on those below. The bricks
transmit their pressure in one direction only—downwards. The water, on the other hand, transmits its
pressure not only downwards but sideways as well.
"Now, Willie, you shall lay this flat piece of wood on the water in the bowl, and try to force it
down. What do you notice?"
"It is not easy to force it down, sir; something seems to be trying to force it up."
"You are quite right, my boy; the water presses upwards as well as in other directions, and it is
forcing the wood up.

"Let us try something else," said Mr. Wilson. "I have here a glass cylinder, with a piece of
bladder tied over it at one end, so as to hang from it like a bag. You shall plunge this into the water.
What do you see?"
"The bladder is forced upwards inside the cylinder, sir, as I push it down into the water."
"What forces it up?"
"I suppose it is the water pressing upwards, sir, as before."
 "Right, again, my lad. Now we will remove the bladder from the end of the cylinder, and cover
it instead with this thin disc of tin. There is a piece of fine cord attached to the center of the disc, and
this we will pass up through the cylinder. I keep the disc close against the bottom of the cylinder
while I lower it into the water, and then I let go the string. Notice what happens. Does the disc fall
away?"
"No, sir; it remains close to the bottom of the cylinder, as it was at first. It must be kept there by
the upward pressure of the water."
"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson, "it is the upward pressure of the water that does it, and now we
understand that liquids press downwards, sideways, upwards—in fact in all directions."
 Lesson 25
Classification of Invertebrates
The invertebrates are arranged in six great subdivisions. Let us examine them one by one,
commencing with the soft-bodied animals. These have a soft, fleshy body, sometimes naked and
defenseless, like the slug; sometimes covered with a protecting shell, which the creature manufactures
for itself. Indeed the shell is really part of the animal; the animal cannot leave it; it is not a mere
house.

The vast majority of these soft-bodied animals have their home in the water. They are found in
every part of the world, abounding in ponds, lakes, rivers, and seas. Some, such as the cockle, bury
themselves in the sand; some bore holes in the soft rocks; others, like the mussel, are found in the
shallows near the shore; but by far the greater number make their dwellings in the very depths of the
ocean.
The shells which these animals make for themselves are sometimes in one, sometimes in two
pieces. The whelk, periwinkle, cowrie, and snail have shells made all in one piece. We call them uni-
valves. Mussels, oysters, cockles, and escalops have shells made of two parts. We call these bi-
valves.
 Slugs and snails, although originally water animals, have been fitted to live and breathe on land.
They breathe through slits in the neck and glide slowly along on a broad, fleshy foot. They live on
vegetable food, and the upper jaw is provided with several rows of teeth, which act as a rasp to grind
off their food.
 Let us next consider the jointed animals. Their bodies are formed of ringed segments, and their
limbs are jointed, and in several parts. Insects and spiders belong to this group, which are countless
in number. But the class also includes shrimps, lobsters, crabs, centipedes, and millipedes. The two
last may be often seen under old boards, or hidden away beneath dead leaves. Insects have six legs;
spiders eight; shrimps, crabs, and lobsters ten. In the insects the segments are easily seen, but the coat
of the spider is soft, smooth, and leathery. The body of the insect is in three parts; that of the spider is
in two. The next group of invertebrates are the worms. They include the common earthworms,
seaworms, lugworms, leeches, and tapeworms.
 Next to these come a small group, of which the starfish may be taken as a sample. First of all, it
is badly named; it is not a fish. The group includes seaurchins, seacucumbers, and others, all of them
having something of the form of the starfish. Below these is another class, which includes jellyfish,
corals, and seaanemones—all inhabitants of the water.
 The last and lowest group in the animal life of the world are represented by the sponges. We may
call them the first animals.
 Lesson 26
More about the Pressure of Liquids
"We are now in a position to inquire a little further into the subject of liquid pressure," said Mr.
Wilson. "You remember that, in one of our recent lessons, we proved, by pouring water into a tin box,
that liquids press downwards, and the more water we put in the box the heavier it became. This is
just what we might expect, and it proves that the greater the depth of water, the greater the pressure
downwards.
"Suppose we have another experiment. I have here a long, round, cardboard case, which I have
plugged up at one end, so as to make it watertight. Fred shall come and hold it while I fill it with
water.
"If I bore a hole in the side, the water will flow out. Now notice; I will bore several holes, one
below the other. The water flows out through each. But are all the streams alike? Look! the top stream
flows quite gently compared with the rush of the bottom one, and each one, from the top downwards,
flows with greater force than that above it.

"Now what does this prove?"

"It proves that the pressure of the water sideways increases with the depth, sir."
"Quite true, Fred. It is for this reason that, in constructing canals, reservoirs, and embankments,
the walls or banks are made thicker at the bottom than the top. The greater the depth of water, the
greater the pressure sideways.
"Here I have the glass cylinder and disc, which we used before, in one of our experiments. When
I lower the cylinder and disc into the water and let go the string, what happens?"
 "The disc remains close to the bottom of the cylinder, kept there by the upward pressure of the
water, sir."

"Exactly. Now I will pour water gently into the cylinder. This water does not run out at the
bottom, you sea. It gradually rises in the cylinder. What does that prove?"
"It proves that the upward pressure of the water against the disc is greater than the weight of the
water in the cylinder above it."
"You are quite right, my lad. Suppose, now, we pour some more water into the cylinder. The
water continues to rise in it till at last the disc falls away. It required the downward pressure of all
that water in the cylinder to overcome the upward pressure on the disc.
"Now lower the cylinder and disc again, but to a greater depth, and I will pour in water as
before. This time more water is required in the cylinder to detach the disc. What does that prove?"
"It shows plainly, sir, that the upward pressure of the water is greater than it was before; it
requires a greater weight of water pressing downwards in the cylinder to overcome the upward
pressure on the disc."
"Just so," said Mr. Wilson; "and now I think we clearly understand that the greater the depth, the
greater the pressure downwards, upwards, and sideways. In other words, the pressure in all
directions increases with the depth.
"Now before we leave the cylinder and disc, I want to show you another little experiment. We
will lower them as before into the water and let go the string. The disc remains close to the cylinder.
Notice that I may move it about wherever I please, horizontally, in the water, and the disc does not
fall away.
"The pressure upward is always the same at the same depth.
"Now I will raise it a little in the water, and the disc falls away, because the upward pressure is
not so great at that depth as it was when lower in the water.
 "Let us return to our cardboard case. I will first plug up all the holes, and then pierce it with a
circle of holes at the same level. If we now fill it with water, we shall see that equal streams flow
from all the holes with equal force.
"This means that, at the same depth, the pressure downwards and sideways is equal. Our
experiments therefore prove that, at the same depth, water, and, of course, all liquids press equally in
every direction."
 Lesson 27
Digestion
The body is a working machine, and every act of our daily life destroys some of its substance.
The muscles as the movers of the body, the brain as the center of thought and intellect, the eyes, nose,
ears—all parts of the body perform their work, but in the very act destroy some of their own
substance. These tissues of the body must be renewed as they are destroyed, or the body would lose
in weight and strength. It is the blood which does this work of building up what is worn away.
But whence does the blood get its materials for this work? The food which we take supplies the
materials. The blood is actually made from the food which we eat. The food is changed into blood by
the process of digestion.
Let us glance at this work of blood-making. The first part of the work takes place in the mouth.
We call it chewing or mastication. You know that, as this work goes on, the food is moistened by a
fluid in the mouth.
This fluid is called saliva, and is poured out from the lining membrane of the mouth. It has the
power of changing starch into sugar. Starch, you know, is insoluble, but sugar is soluble. Bread and
many of the things we eat contain starch. The saliva changes this starch into sugar; the sugar is
soluble, and is easily absorbed into the blood.
When the food has been properly masticated, it is swallowed and carried by the gullet into a bag
or pouch called the stomach. In this pouch it is rolled and churned about to still further break it up,
and all the time a fluid called gastric juice is oozing out from the sides of the stomach itself to
dissolve it. This gastric juice dissolves the lean meat and the glutinous parts of bread on which the
saliva has had no effect.
 The inner lining of the stomach is crowded with a network of blood capillaries, and these
vessels suck up the fully dissolved matters of the food as the gastric juice continues to act upon them.
The stomach at its right-hand extremity becomes a narrow pipe, and forms the commencement of
a long tube—the intestines. This tube if stretched out would measure five or six times the length of the
person, but it is so folded and doubled upon itself that it is easily packed in the space provided for it
below the stomach.
Resting on the intestines is a great organ, the liver. This organ is always at work preparing a
fluid called bile, which is required for the complete digestion of the food. The bile, as it is prepared,
passes into the tube of the intestines, and there mixes with the food that has come from the stomach.
Bile has the power of acting on the fatty parts of the food, and dissolving them, just as the saliva
and gastric juice dissolve the other parts.
As the food passes along the intestinal canal, these dissolved fats are absorbed into the blood,
and, with them, all that is of use. Only the useless, undigested remainder is discharged from the body.
 Lesson 28
Buoyancy of Liquids
"We have seen that water and all liquids press downwards, sideways, upwards—in fact in every
direction," said Mr. Wilson, "and that at the same depth the pressure is equal in every direction. I
want now to direct your thoughts towards the pressure of liquids in one direction only—upwards.
There is much to be learned from this.

"I have here a small square block of glass. I will attach this piece of silk thread to it. Now Fred
shall come to the front and hold it suspended by the thread. He will tell us at once that he feels a
downward pressure as he holds it. What causes that downward pressure?"
"It is the pressure of gravity, sir, or the weight of the block itself."
"Quite right. Now I want you to hold the thread in such a position as to let the glass block dip
into this bowl of water. Tell us what you notice now, Fred."
"I can feel the water pressing the glass up, sir," said Fred. "It does not seem to weigh so heavy
now."
"Well, suppose we try to find out what all this means. We will begin by weighing the piece of
glass. It weighs exactly three ounces. This means that when we hang it from the thread it presses
down with a weight of three ounces.
"Now I am going to suspend the piece of glass from the scale-pan by means of the thread. We
still require the three—ounce weight in the other scale to balance it. It still weighs three ounces. The
two arms of the balance are horizontal.
"Now place the bowl under it, and let the glass dip into the water. What do you see?"
"The scales do not balance now. The weight scale sinks."
"What does this prove?"
"It proves that the glass does not weigh three ounces now, sir."
"Quite right; let us see what it does weigh. I will take out one of the ounce weights, and now, you
see, the arms of the balance once more rest in the horizontal position.
"The glass, we know, is pressing downwards with a weight of three ounces, but the water is
pressing upwards, and it is this upward pressure of the water which seems to rob the glass of one-
third of its weight.
"Suppose, before we go any further, we try the same experiment with a piece of brick and a
piece of sulphur.
"Each of these substances loses half its weight when suspended in the water.
"Now if I detach the glass, the brick, and the sulphur from the thread, they will all sink to the
bottom of the water. Why do they sink?"
"The downward pressure of their weight is greater than the upward pressure of the water."
"We have learned then that all solid bodies weigh less in water than in air, but some, such as
glass, sulphur, brick, and of course such bodies as stone and metal, sink to the bottom if unsupported.
We call these heavy bodies."
 Lesson 29
Mammals
Animals which suckle their young form a very large and important class. They comprise
individuals which differ from each other in nature, habits, food, and therefore in structure.
Mammals are divided into orders.
Considered as an animal, man stands at the head of these orders. He is the only two-handed
animal, and forms the sub-order Bi-mana. There is another sub-order which makes a very near
approach to man, although the members of it differ widely from each other. They form a separate
group, and are distinguished by their hand-like feet, each having a thumb for grasping, exactly like the
thumb of the real hand. It is this distinction that gives the name Quadrumana, which means four-
handed animals.
It is not merely the possession of two hands instead of four, however, that places man so much
higher than this leading group of the brute creation. We have only to compare the head of one of the
great four-handed animals with the head and brain of a man. It is intellect that makes man something
more than a mere animal.
Man is the only animal that stands and walks erect. The four-handed animals all move about with
an awkward stooping gait, resting their forehands on the ground at each step. If you notice the
enormous length of their arms you will see that they are specially fitted for that kind of locomotion.
 This four-handed structure is no mere accident; it was designed to meet the wants of these
animals, all of whom live mostly in the trees, and require hands for grasping.
The Quadrumana arrange themselves naturally in different groups. First we may take the
monkeys, which are the smallest and least savage of the whole sub-order. They are distinguished by
their long tails, and also by cheek-pouches inside the mouth for storing away food till it is wanted.
Most of them, too, have bare patches of hardened skin where they sit (callosities, they are called).
The monkeys of the New World mostly use their long tails as a fifth hand in climbing trees and
swinging from bough to bough. They may be distinguished from those of the Old World by the position
of the nostrils, which, in their case, open in long slits on the sides of the nose. The monkeys of Asia
and Africa have the nostrils at the end of the nose.
The baboons form another group, and are extremely fierce and formidable. They too have cheek-
pouches and callosities. They are distinguished by their very short tails.
The largest of the Quadrumana are the apes, or man monkeys. These have no tails, no cheek-
pouches, no callosities. This group includes the gorilla, the chimpanzee, and the orangoutang. The
gorilla is an extremely savage and powerful beast, and often reaches the height of seven feet.
The wing-handed animals usually follow the Quadrumana as the next order. They include the
various members of the bat family. These animals live on insects which people the air, and they must
therefore have the power of flight. To provide for this the two hands are modified to form wings. The
fingers are lengthened to an enormous extent, and a thin membrane stretched between them forms a
wing.
We will next look at another class of insect-eaters, of which the mole is a type. The insects
which form the food of these animals (mostly beetles and their grubs) are found in the ground, and so
are the slugs, snails, and earthworms, with which they vary their diet. If you think over our earlier
lesson on the mole, you will doubtless remember that he is provided with teeth specially fitted for
crushing his prey, and with fore-paws for digging in the ground.

The hedgehog and the shrew belong to the same order. They too are insect-eaters.
 Lesson 30
Floating bodies
"Our last experimental lesson," said Mr. Wilson, "taught us that when we immerse a solid body
in the water, the water, by its upward pressure, tries to bear or buoy it up. Certain bodies, it is true,
sink in the water when unsupported, but this is because they are heavier than the water. The same
bodies would refuse to sink if they were placed in a heavier liquid, say mercury. Here is some
mercury in this bowl. Pieces of stone, tin, iron, silver, copper, and lead all rest on the surface of this
liquid.
"You shall come to the front and help me again, Fred. I want you to place this piece of cork and
these pieces of wood in the bowl of water. They rest on the surface of the water.
"Now try and force them down to the bottom. They will not remain there; they immediately rise
to the top again.
"Here is a bladder filled with air. It rests lightly on the water. Try and force it down. It springs
upwards to the surface again.
"The upward pressure of the water forces all these things up. It tried to do the same with the
piece of glass the other day, but the glass was too heavy. Its weight overcame the upward pressure of
the water, so that it sank.
"We call this upward pressure of water its buoyancy, that is, its power of buoying bodies up, so
as to make them rest on its surface. Bodies which rest on the surface of a liquid in this way are said to
float. But why do they float?"
"They float because the upward pressure of the liquid is greater than their downward pressure or
weight, sir."
"Quite right, Fred. Now I want you to notice the way in which the various bodies float. The
bladder rests lightly on the water, the cork sinks into it a little way, the pine, beech, and oak woods
sink lower down. Let us see what all this means.
"I have here a small tin box, in one side of which I have bored a hole. The box is filled with
water up to the hole. I will suspend the piece of glass from the balance, and let it dip into the water
just as we did before. Note carefully what happens. You know that the glass loses one ounce in
weight when it dips in the water. What do you see now?"
"Some of the water is running out of the hole into the basin below, sir."
"So it is. But why should it run out? I will tell you. The water and the glass could not occupy the
same space, so some of the water runs out at the hole as the glass dips down, to make room for it. The
piece of glass forces out exactly its own bulk of water.
"If this water were collected and weighed, it would be found to weigh just one ounce—exactly
what the glass lost in weight. That is to say, the upward pressure of the water is equal to the actual
weight of the quantity of water which the body displaces. If the body were equal in weight to its own
bulk of water, it would float with its upper surface on a level with the surface of the water. It would,
in fact, displace a quantity of water equal to itself, bulk for bulk.
 "You know that a piece of iron sinks in the water, because it weighs much more than its own bulk
of that liquid. But I put this canister in the water, and it floats. Why is this?
"The canister, although made of heavy metal, is hollow and filled with air only. It weighs much
less than its own bulk of water, and thus the water can buoy it up. This explains why our great iron
ships float on the sea. They are lighter than the water, bulk for bulk, and the buoyancy of the water
makes them float."
 Lesson 31
Air has Weight
"Suppose we have a talk about the air this morning," said Mr. Wilson. "The air, you know, is a
material substance. It is a gas. It surrounds our earth, and covers the tops of the highest mountains. We
live and move about at the bottom of an ocean of air, just as fishes and other animals do at the bottom
of the sea.
"This ocean of air, being a gas, has no surface. You remember, no doubt, that one of the points
that distinguish gases from liquids is that, while liquids always keep a level surface, gases have no
surface at all. This air extends far beyond the mountain tops—probably fifty miles upward—perhaps
even beyond that.
"People who go up in balloons find that the air becomes thinner as they ascend, until it is very
difficult, and at last quite impossible, for them to breathe, and yet the greatest height ever reached in a
balloon is about seven miles.
"Now I want you to think for a moment of one of the lightest substances we have met with in our
lessons—that thin, fleecy eider-down. Picture to yourselves a mass of this light, fleecy down, piled
into a great heap, reaching upwards for miles. Light as the down is, it has some weight, and the upper
portion must of necessity press upon that which is beneath it. What do you think would be the result of
this?"
"The lowest part of the heap would be pressed downwards by the weight of that above it, sir. It
would be packed close and dense."
"You are quite right," said Mr. Wilson, "and it is just so with the air. This, being a material
substance, has weight. That is to say, every particle of air is attracted or drawn down to the earth by
the force of gravity. The layers above press upon those below, so that the air at the foot of a mountain
is always denser and heavier than that at its summit."
"It is the same with water, sir," said Fred. "You proved that the pressure of water is always
greater at the bottom than near the top."
"I am glad you can see the connection, Fred, between the water and the air in this respect, for the
two are very similar. Air, like water, is a material substance and has weight. It is the weight in each
case which presses downwards.
 "Let us have another look at this instrument. I showed it to you once before. It is called an air
pump. I do not intend to enter into any explanation of the air pump at present. That will come in a
lesson by itself later on. All I want you to know about it now is that, with the help of it we are able to
remove the air from a vessel, and leave it empty. If we were to take a square box measuring a foot
each way, we should find, by first weighing it, then exhausting the air from it, and then weighing it
again, it would lose rather more than one ounce. That is to say, a cubic foot of air weighs about one
ounce.

"But if we took our square box and the air pump up the side of a mountain, and repeated the
experiment, we should find that the cubic foot of air would not weigh an ounce there, and it would
weigh still less as we approached nearer the top, because the air becomes lighter and thinner as we
ascend."
 Lesson 32
More about the Mammals
The flesh-eaters form a large and important order of the mammals. They live, as their name
indicates, entirely on the flesh of other animals. They are extremely fierce, strong, and swift, for they
are hunters; and they have teeth and claws for seizing and tearing their prey. The animals of this order
are usually arranged in groups, according to the manner in which they walk.

The first group are the toe-walkers. These are well named, for they walk on their toes only; the
rest of the foot does not touch the ground. They include the various members of the cat and dog
families. Among the cats are the lion, tiger, leopard, panther, jaguar, puma, ounce, lynx, and our
common domestic cat. The dog family includes the wolf, fox, and jackal.
 The sole-walkers form the next group. They are distinguished from the group already mentioned
by the form of the feet, and the use they make of them in walking. They plant the whole of the foot flat
on the ground at each step. The bear, raccoon, and badger families are included in this group.
There is a large group, known as the weasel family, which form a sort of link between the toe-
walkers and the sole-walkers. They include the weasel, marten, sable, polecat, ferret, and stoat. Some
of them are sole-walkers and some toe-walkers, but they are all distinguished by an unusual length of
body and a shortness of legs as well as by their boldness, ferocity and agility. These fierce little
creatures, many of them not bigger than a rat, fearlessly attack animals of twenty time their size and
strength.

Last among the flesh-eaters come the first walkers. These animals, which include the seal and
walrus, find their food in the water, and spend a great part of their lives in that element. Their limbs
are short, and make admirable paddles for swimming, but their movements are very limited and
awkward on land.
 Leaving the flesh-eaters we come next to the gnawing animals. These live entirely on vegetable
food, mostly roots and nuts and the bark of trees. They are distinguished by the peculiar form of their
incisor teeth, which, in these animals, become four sharp chisels, specially adapted for gnawing their
food. You remember, no doubt, that these teeth, formed as they are of the hard enamel outside, and the
softer dentine beneath, are able by their own work of gnawing to keep a sharp cutting edge. The order
is a very large and numerous one, and comprises more than one-third of the mammalia. The rabbit,
hare, mouse, rat, squirrel, dormouse, beaver, guineapig, and porcupine belong to this group.

The toothless animals form the next order. It is a small but very curious one, and the members of
it are all foreign animals. It includes the anteater, sloth, and armadillo, and the curious duckbill of
Australia. None of these animals have canine teeth; some have no incisors; others no teeth at all,
hence their name.
They live on worms and insects, as well as slugs and other soft-bodied animals.
 Lesson 33
Pressure of the Atmosphere
"Come, boys," said Mr. Wilson, "I’ve got a plaything. I want to be a boy again. You, of course,
know what it is. It is a leather sucker. I have had it soaking in water for some time, so that it is quite
ready for us. Suppose you come here, Fred, and try it on this slate.
"Ah! I thought you would know how to use this toy," he continued, as Fred pulled the string and
lifted up the slate. "The leather seems to have stuck to the slate, but we know that is not the case,
because leather is not an adhesive substance. Tell us what you did to make the leather hold to the slate
like this, Fred."
"When I put the sucker on the slate I pressed it down close, sir, that is all," said Fred.
"Quite right, and in pressing it you squeezed out all the air from between the leather and the
slate. There is nothing between them, not even a little air. There is air outside, but there is none under
the sucker. This is the whole secret. The sucker is held fast to the slate by this outside air pressing
down upon it.

"We will now remove the sucker, place the slate against the wall, and in that position try it once
more. Yes, the sucker again holds fast, and of course it is the air that is pressing it to the slate just as
before. If I hold the slate overhead, or slant it in any direction, the result will still be the same. The
sucker will hold fast, and in each case the cause will be the same—the pressure of the air on the
outside of it.
"This being so, what have we discovered?"
"The air presses equally in every direction, sir, for it does not matter how the slate is placed, the
sucker always holds fast."
"Now watch what happens when I bore a hole in the sucker," said Mr. Wilson. "The sucker is at
once released. Some air rushed in through the little hole, as soon as it was made, and this air pressed
upwards with as much force as the outer air was pressing downwards.
 "Let me show you another experiment now," he added. "I have here a tumbler filled to the brim
with water. I will place this piece of writing paper over the glass, and invert it. When I remove my
hand the paper remains close to the glass, so that the water cannot run out. What is the cause of this?

"The air presses upwards on the paper and holds it close to the glass. This pressure of the air,
too, must be considerable, for the water in the tumbler is heavy, and would naturally fall if
unsupported. Now I will place the tumbler, inverted as it is, in this bowl of water with the lower end
just below the surface. When I remove the paper, what do you see?

"The water still stands in the tumbler, although there is now no paper to keep it in. There is only
the water in the basin.
"Shall I tell you why the water does not rush out of the glass? It is because the air in the room is
pressing downwards on the surface of the water in the basin, and this downward pressure is
transmitted in all directions by the water. The water in the basin presses upwards into the water in the
tumbler, and prevents it from running out."
 Lesson 34
The Atmosphere—What It Is
We have learned a great many facts about the atmosphere as a material substance—about its
weight, and its pressure in all directions," said Mr. Wilson. "We have now to study it from another
point of view.

I have here a large glass jar. The jar of course contains air. I will place a small bit of
phosphorus on this tin plate, and float the plate in this bowl of water. I will light the phosphorus using
a taper and cover it quickly with the bell-jar, resting just below the surface of the water. The
phosphorus burns with an intensely bright flame in the jar, and gives off dense white fumes. We must
wait for these fumes to clear off, and then you shall tell us what you observe."
"Some of the water has gone up the bell-jar, sir," said Fred.
"So it has, Fred. If you come here you will see that the bell-jar is marked by lines into five equal
parts, and the water now fills one of those parts. Some of the air has made room for this water, for the
jar contains now only about four-fifths of the original quantity.
"Our next business will be to find out what we have in the jar now. Is it the same as it was
before the experiment? Remove the stopper of the bell-jar, and plunge this burning taper into it. You
see it is immediately extinguished.
"Suppose I light a piece of phosphorus and lower that into it. The result is the same; it goes out
immediately. The gas, therefore, which is now in the jar is not air as it was at first. One-fifth of its
bulk has disappeared in the burning, and the remaining four-fifths is a gas which puts out a flame. It
will not allow anything to burn in it. We call this gas nitrogen; it forms four-fifths of all the air around
us.
"I have something else now to show you," he continued. "Here are some gas jars. If I hold them
up they appear empty—that is to say, you would expect to find nothing in them but ordinary air. I shall
soon, however, be able to prove to you first that they are not empty, and also that what they do contain
is not air.

"Let us begin with this one. I will light a splinter of wood, and as soon as it is well lighted, I
will blow out the flame so as to leave only a red spark. Now notice what happens when I uncover the
jar and plunge the splinter into it. The spark immediately bursts into flame again and burns with a
very brilliant glow. It burns much more fiercely and brightly than it did in the air.
"Let us take another one of the bottles. Here is a piece of charcoal. We will first make it red-hot,
and then plunge it as before into the jar. The result is the same: the charcoal burns with greater
fierceness and brilliance immediately as it is lowered into the jar.
"Lastly, I will lower a piece of phosphorus into the jar—this time without even lighting it. The
phosphorus takes fire instantly, and burns with such a dazzling brightness that we cannot bear the sight
of it, and we turn our eyes away.
"I think we have now done enough to prove that these jars are not empty, and also to prove that
what they do contain is not air. I filled the jars myself with a gas which we call oxygen. One of these
days you shall see me make some oxygen. At present you must be content to learn what it is, and how
it acts.
"You saw that the substances we put into the jars burn much more fiercely than in the air. Oxygen
is a powerful supporter of burning. It forms one-fifth of the bulk of all the air all over the world. It
formed one-fifth of the bulk of the air in the bell-jar, and it was this gas, oxygen, which disappeared.
The burning phosphorus went out immediately all the oxygen was used up, and nothing was left but
the other gas, nitrogen, which formed the remaining four-fifths.
 "In the atmosphere the one part of oxygen is mixed with four parts of nitrogen merely to dilute or
weaken it. Burning would go on too rapidly in an atmosphere of pure oxygen.
"We shall have to learn presently that we and all animals live by burning. Our bodies are daily
and hourly burning away. If we lived in an atmosphere of oxygen, we should burn away too fast, and
live too rapidly, like the flames we saw just now. But an atmosphere of nitrogen, on the other hand,
would not do, for in it there could be no burning, and without burning there could be no life. Oxygen
diluted with four times its bulk of nitrogen makes just the atmosphere required."
 Lesson 35
More about the Mammals
The hoofed animals are without doubt the most useful order of the mammals. The members of
this very large group have their toes enclosed in hard horny cases, which we call hoofs. They are all
vegetarians.
The number of toes varies in the different members of the family. It is usual to arrange them as
odd-toed and even-toed animals.

The tapir has three toes on the hind foot and four on the front foot; the elephant has five toes on
each foot.
The elephant's feet are most admirably adapted for supporting the enormous weight of body, and
for transporting the ponderous mass lightly, easily, and without jarring. This is accomplished by
means of a hoof, composed of separate horny plates, which seem to act on the principle of an ordinary
carriage spring. Everyone who, for the first time, sees an elephant walking, is always struck with
surprise that the foot does not fall heavily on the ground, but swings forward lightly with an easy
sweeping step.
 The horse, ass, zebra, and quagga belong to a group known as single-toed animals. The hoof
encloses a single toe, and on this one toe the animal walks. The rhinoceros is an odd-toed animal, but
his foot is in three pieces.
 The largest group of this hoofed order are the eventoed animals. The camel and the giraffe have
two toes; the hippopotamus, hog, sheep, goat, ox, deer, and antelope have four toes.
 In all, except the hippopotamus and the hog, the two hinder toes are very small. The animals
walk on the front two toes only, which form a hoof that is divided down the middle, which we call
cloven.
Animals such as hog, sheep, and hippopotamus, form a distinct class—the cud-chewers. They
are distinguished by the pad in the upper jaw in place of incisor teeth, and by having four stomachs
which are constructed for chewing the cud.
 The elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and tapir are sometimes classified by themselves as
thick-skinned animals. They are distinguished the thickness of their skin and the bulkiness of their
body.
The next order are the whale-like animals. This order includes the whale, porpoise, and dolphin.
These animals live in the sea, have a fish-like form, with short fin-shaped fore-limbs, and the hind
limbs are entirely wanting. They are mammals and not fishes. They suckle their young, they have
warm blood, they breathe through lungs, and cannot breathe in the water.
 The last order of the mammals are the pouched animals. We have hitherto taken the structure of
the limbs or teeth as our guide in arranging the various orders. This order is formed on an entirely
different basis of classification. The animals which comprise it have one common characteristic—a
curious pouch in which the young are carried for some time after their birth. The kangaroo of
Australia and the opossum of America belong to this order.
 Lesson 36
Weight of the Atmosphere
"I want you to think about our experiment with the tumbler inverted in the basin of water," said
Mr. Wilson. "That will help us to learn something new this morning. But first of all, you must tell me
what you saw while I held the tumbler in the water."
"The water stood in the inverted tumbler," said Fred. "None of it ran out. It was kept there by the
downward pressure of the air on the water in the basin."

"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "See, I will repeat the experiment with this test-tube. The water
stands in it as it did in the tumbler.
"Suppose we now try it with another liquid—mercury. I will fill the tube with mercury, close it
with my finger, and invert it in this little bowl of the same liquid. The mercury, you see, stands in the
tube just as the water did, and for the same reason. It is held up by the downward pressure of the air.
"Now let us try it with this long glass tube. I will fill the tube with water and invert it in the
bowl of water as before. None of the water flows out.
"Let us try the same thing with mercury. I fill the tube, close it with my finger, and invert it in the
usual way in this little bowl of mercury. What has happened?"
 "Some of the mercury has run out of the tube into the vessel. There is no mercury in the top of the
tube."
"What is there, then? Air? There can be no air in that upper space, because we filled the tube
with mercury, and the mercury has simply dropped down. It is an absolutely empty space. We call it a
vacuum.
"Let us see whether the mercury will fall any lower in the tube. No, we cannot make it fall, so
long as we keep the lower end in the vessel of mercury. If we take the tube out, all the mercury at
once runs down it, but if we refill it and invert it again, the mercury will stand at the same height as
before.
"Come to the front, Fred, and hold the tube steadily in the bowl. I will measure with a tap the
column of mercury, from the top to the level of the liquid in the bowl below. It measures you see, as
nearly as possible thirty inches."
We must find out what all this means. But let us first learn why the mercury stands at all in this
tube. We have here a long thin column of mercury thirty inches high. The mercury is a very heavy
liquid metal, and its weight presses downwards. If it could it would run down the tube into the bowl
below. As it does not run out, there must be something to prevent it.
"Try and picture a very long tall column of air, of exactly the same thickness as the mercury in
the tube, but reaching many miles upwards to the very extreme limit of the atmosphere. Imagine, if you
like, that this long thin column of air is contained in a tube, reaching all the way up from the surface of
the mercury in the bowl."
"This long column of air then presses downwards, by reason of its own weight, upon the surface
of the mercury in the bowl.
"What else is pressing down upon it as well as this column of air? The mercury in the tube is
also pressing down upon it; it is trying to get out of the tube and cannot. The pressure of the air
prevents it. The air and the mercury in the tube press down with equal force, and balance each other
like weights in a pair of scales."
 Lesson 37
Birds
Birds form an important class of vertebrates, with special characteristics. They produce their
young from eggs, and suckle them; they have hard horny beaks which serve instead of teeth; their fore-
limbs are modified into wings; their feet are claws. Like mammals they have warm red blood; their
heart has four chambers; and they breathe through lungs. This great class consists of several distinct
orders.
First among these orders come the flesh eaters or birds of prey. They are the fierce, powerful,
blood-thirsty hunters of the air. They live on the flesh of other animals, and are provided with strong
hooked beaks, and powerful talons to seize and rend their prey. The order includes the eagle, falcon,
hawk, condor, vulture, and owl. The owl is a night prowler; all the rest hunt their prey in the daylight.
 It is well to compare the owl with the cats and other night-prowling beasts. The eyes in each
case are made o see best at night. An owl in the daytime presents a curious appearance from its
blinking eyes, which cannot bear the daylight. It spends the day in some ark secluded spot, and ever
comes out till after dusk, when it preys upon rats, mice, and other night animals.

The eagle and the other members of the order are distinguished by their powerful piercing eyes,
which can bear the most brilliant sun without blinking. They sight heir victim from an enormous
height, and swoop down with unerring aim upon birds on the wing, poultry feeding in the field, and
even upon rabbits, hares, and young lambs.

The second order are the climbers. These have strong muscular legs, and each foot has two toes
pointing forwards and backwards. These birds live entirely in trees, and their claws enable them to
climb easily and cling firmly. Many of them use the beak as well as the feet in climbing. They do not
walk well. Among the climbers are the woodpecker cuckoo, parrot, and cockatoo.

The next order are the perchers; and of them we may take the common sparrow, robin, thrush and
blackbird as examples. They have three toes pointing forwards and one backwards. They are made
for a tree life, when on the ground, they move about with a series of little short hops. They cannot
walk. You, of course, member the peculiar and admirable arrangement of the leg and foot tendons, by
which these birds are enabled, merely by their own weight, to rest securely on a twig or branch even
when asleep.

This order includes most of the common birds of our English woods, as well as the gorge birds
of paradise and other foreign birds.
The scratchers, or poultry birds, form the next order. They derive their name, scratchers, from
their habit of scratching or scraping in the earth to find their food. For this purpose they are provided
with stout strong legs, and the claws are short and armed with blunt nails. These birds feed largely on
grain, which they swallow whole because they have no teeth to masticate it. The work of crushing the
food is done in a strong internal muscular bag, the gizzard, through which all the food must pass.

In addition to the common fowls, this order includes the pigeon, dove, partridge, pheasant, quail,
turkey, and peacock.
 Lesson 38
More about the Atmosphere
"We have already learned that the air is a mixture of the two gases, oxygen and nitrogen," said
Mr. Wilson. "We could make some air for ourselves by preparing one bottle of oxygen and four
similar bottles of nitrogen, and mixing them together. The mixture would be pure air.
"But the air all round us is never a perfectly pure mixture of these two gases. I think you know
something else which it contains."
"Air always contains carbonic acid gas, sir," said Fred. "Every fire, every furnace, and every
gas-jet that burns, helps to load the air with carbonic acid, and so do all the animals that live and
breathe on the earth."
"Then, too, there is always water-vapor in the air, sir," said Willie.

"You are, both of you, quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "Let us deal first with the carbonic acid gas.
The other day we burned a piece of carbon in a jar of oxygen. We will now burn this taper in oxygen.
The taper burns fiercely for a time and then goes out. It goes out because all the oxygen has been
consumed in the burning. There is no oxygen in the jar now; in place of it there is carbonic acid gas.
"How shall I prove that there is carbonic acid gas in the jar?"
"Pour some lime-water into the bottle, sir," said Fred.
"Right. I will do it now, and you see the lime-water at once becomes cloudy or milky-looking. If
we had tested the jar in the same way, after burning the carbon in it, the result would have been the
same, for whenever carbon burns, carbonic acid gas is produced.
"Then it is clear that the taper must contain carbon. Indeed all things that burn—wood, coal,
coke, fuel of every kind, as well as candles, oil, coal-gas—contain carbon. It is the carbon in them
which makes them valuable as substances for burning, and the burning always produces carbonic acid
gas.
"Now how shall we prove that carbonic acid gas is given off with our breath?"

"If you breathe into lime-water," said Fred, "the lime-water will prove the presence of carbonic
acid gas by turning cloudy."
"Quite right, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "We are now quite clear as to the sources of carbonic acid
gas in the air. Yet with all the fires and lights, and all the many millions of breathing animals and
people, there is never more than a mere trace of carbonic acid gas in ordinary air—usually about four
parts in 1000. How is this?"
"Every plant that grows, sir," said Fred, "requires carbonic acid gas. The plants take carbonic
acid from the air, and so a balance is kept between the wants of animals and plants all over the
world."
 Lesson 39
Respiration
Our lesson on the circulation showed us the blood flowing out from the heart, along the arteries,
through the hair-like capillaries, and back again to the heart by the veins. The blood which the heart
pumps out is a bright scarlet colour, and fit for its proper work in the body. We call it arterial blood.
That which is returned to the heart by the veins is of a dark purple color, and loaded with impurities
from the worn-out tissues. We call it venous blood. This is the blood which enters the right auricle of
the heart, and is sent out from the right ventricle to the lungs. When it returns from the lungs it is bright
scarlet arterial blood. It has lost its impurities there. We want now to find out what happens to it in
the lungs, and to do so we must examine the lungs themselves.

The lungs are two large organs situated in the chest, one on each side of the heart. They occupy
the whole of the space in the chest which is not taken up by the heart and its great blood-vessels. They
are of a pinkish color, soft and spongy, and very elastic. They are attached to the walls of the chest
and the diaphragm by a membrane—the pleura.
If you run the finger down the front of the throat, you will feel a hard gristly pipe, which passes
down into the chest from the back of the mouth and nasal passages. This is the wind-pipe. On entering
the chest it splits into two—one pipe going to each lung. Each of these branching pipes is called a
bronchus.
In the lung the bronchus splits up again and again into smaller and still smaller pipes—the
bronchial tubes—the smallest ending in little bags or cells. These are known as air-cells. The whole
substance of the lung is simply a mass of these air-cells.
Let us see why they are called air-cells. They are in direct communication with the air all round
us. When we breathe, the air passes down the wind—pipe, the bronchus, the bronchial tubes, and so
into the air-cells. Now think for a moment of the great blood-vessel, which conveys the dark impure
blood from the right ventricle of the heart to the lungs. We call it the pulmonary artery. This artery,
like all others, splits up in the lung into smaller and smaller vessels, ending at last in capillaries.
The capillaries spread themselves all round the walls of the little air-cells. The air-cells are full
of air, the capillaries all round them are full of this bad blood. Two things then take place. The blood
gives up its impurities to the air in the air-cells, and takes something back from the air in exchange.
You remember that when we breathe into lime-water, the water becomes cloudy and milky-looking,
because carbonic acid has been put into it. Whence did this carbonic acid come? It came from the
breath.

The blood is purified in the lungs by giving up to the air-cells the carbonic acid which it has
absorbed from the worn-out tissues. This carbonic acid is sent out every time we breathe. But that is
only part of the purifying work that takes place. The air in the air-cells is a mixture of the two gases,
oxygen and nitrogen. The blood absorbs this oxygen in exchange for the carbonic acid which it gives
up.
Thus the difference between the blood which leaves the lungs and that which enters them is, that
it has lost its carbonic acid there, and taken up oxygen in its place.
 Lesson 40
More about Birds
We have not yet finished our classification of the birds. The next order for us to consider are the
waders. These birds have very long legs, for walking in the water. Hence they are sometimes known
as stilt-walkers. They live on fishes, frogs, and other water animals. They have long necks to
correspond with their long legs, and pointed bills for spearing their prey. They include the snipes,
plovers, lapwings, and herons of England, and the stork, crane, flamingo, buzzard, and bittern of other
lands.

The swimmers form the next order. Their distinguishing characteristic is the web between the
claws. The webbed feet enable these birds to swim, and so specially fit them for a water life. They
live in the water because they get their food out of the water. This is a large and important order; the
most familiar members of it are the ducks, geese, and swans. Many of the family are marine birds.
Among them are the gull, penguin, petrel, and albatross. The last is an immense bird, the largest of the
order. It has marvellous powers of flight. The next order is known as runners, and includes a few
large and powerful birds, which neither fly nor swim, but are extremely fleet on foot. The legs are
exceedingly strong, and the broad thick toes are pointed forwards. As they do not fly, these birds have
small wings; and they use the wings as balancers while running. The ostrich is the largest and most
powerful of the group. It can run at the rate of twenty-six miles an hour. The emu and the cassowary
belong to the same order.

Many of our smaller birds, while they differ very slightly in the structure of the claws, are
capable of a further useful classification according to the form of the beak or bill. The blackbird,
thrush, robin, nightingale, and other well-known birds live mostly on worms, grubs, and insects.
These birds have the upper mandible notched near the point, for the purpose of securing their prey.
Hence they are known as tooth-billed birds. They may be regarded, on the whole, as very good
friends to the farmer, in devouring the worst of his destructive enemies, although they do now and then
help themselves to a little of his fruit by way of dessert.
If you have ever watched a swallow skimming swiftly over a pool on a summer evening, you
must have seen that the bird always flies with its mouth wide open. The mouth is slit some distance
beyond the mandibles to admit of this. But what can be the object of such structure and habits? These
birds live on insects, which they catch on the wing. The open mouth presents a wide-gaping flytrap,
and the swift, skimming flight through the air is to assist them in catching their prey. The swallow,
marten, swift, and goat-sucker belong to this group, which are known as wide-gaping bills.

A glance at the bill of a sparrow, a linnet, or a lark will show that it is short and conical in
shape. It has the appearance of more strength than you might expect to find in so small a bill. These
birds live mostly on seeds. Their short strong beaks are specially fitted for cracking and crushing the
husks of the seeds. The group are known as cone-shaped bills.
The humming-birds of South America represent another group. They are all tiny little birds, with
remarkably gorgeous plumage, although some of them are scarcely bigger than a bee. They frequent
the flowers, some say for the sake of the insects in them, others for the sake of the sweet juice or
nectar which they contain. Whether for one or both of these purposes, the bills have no hard work to
do, and hence they are soft and slender. The group are known as the slender bills.
 Lesson 41
How Heat Affects Bodies
"I am going to amuse you with some new experiments this morning," said Mr. Wilson. "Fred may
come to the front to assist me. I have here a short round bar of iron, which fits exactly into this metal
groove, and will just pass through the round hole in it. Try it, Fred, and see for yourself. It fits, you
see, both ways.
"Now put the iron bar into the fire, and as soon as it is red-hot, try and fit it into the groove
again. What, can't you get it in? Then try and push the end through the round hole. It won't go into the
hole, you see, with all your trying. Now why is this? The reason is that the bar is longer and thicker
than it was. The heat has made the iron expand in every direction.
"Put the bar into this bowl of cold water, and try again, Fred."
"It fits exactly now, sir," said Fred. "I suppose the iron has got smaller again because it is cold."
"Yes, Fred, you are quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "We will try another experiment. I have here a
brass ball hanging from a chain. It will just pass through this metal ring. Hold it by the chain and drop
it through the ring. That's right. You see it just goes through.
"Now we will lower the ball into this kettle of boiling water for a minute or two. That will do;
you may take it out and drop it through the ring as before."

"It will not go through the ring now, sir. The heat of the water must have made it expand. It is too
big to pass through the ring now."
"Put it into cold water, Fred, as you did the iron bar, and then, if you try again, you will find that
it will pass through the ring easily."
"Yes, sir, it passes through easily enough now," said Fred.
"Remember, then, that almost all solid bodies expand with heat, and contract when the heat is
taken away; for what is true of the iron bar and the brass ball is equally true of nearly all solids.
"Now let us look at liquids. I will fill this test-tube with water, and you shall hold it over the
flame of the spirit-lamp. The water, as it gets hot, swells up and overflows, Suppose we now fill
another tube with mercury, and heat that. The result is the same. The mercury swells up, and, like the
water, would quickly overflow. Both liquids expand, you see, with heat, and require greater space.
"Here is another test-tube, which I filled with boiling water an hour ago. It is not full now. What
does this mean? The water has cooled, and as it cooled it contracted into smaller bulk. Liquids, like
solids, expand when heated, and contract when the heat is taken away.
"I have now a very interesting experiment to show you," continued Mr. Wilson. "I will place this
empty glass retort over the spirit-lamp in such a position as to allow its neck to dip down into this
bowl of water. When I said the retort was 'empty,' what did I really mean?"

"The retort is full of air, sir," said Fred.

"Just so," said Mr. Wilson. "Now our retort is getting hot. Watch what happens."
"Bubbles of air are rising up and bursting on the surface of the water, sir," said Fred.
"Right; but whence did these bubbles come? The flame heated not the retort only, but the air
inside it, and heated air expands or swells, so as to occupy more space. There was not room enough
for all the expanded air in the retort, and so some of it passed out into the water, and rose up through
it in bubbles.
"Now let us remove the spirit-lamp, and leave the retort to cool. Tell me what you see as the
cooling goes on."
 "The water is rising in the neck of the retort, sir. There was no water in it before."
"So it is," said Mr. Wilson, "and I think you can easily tell the reason why. Some of the air was
driven out in bubbles, when it expanded by the heat. Now that the air is cooling it contracts or shrinks
up again; but there is not enough cool air to fill the retort. Hence the water rises in the neck. What is
true of air is equally true of all gases. Gases, like liquids and solids, expand with heat, and contract
when the heat is taken away."
 Lesson 42
The Tube of Mercury
“You remember our long glass tube of mercury, of course,” said Mr. Wilson. “The column of
mercury filled the tube to the height of about 30 inches, and no shaking of the tube could move the
liquid so long as we kept the lower end in the bowl of mercury. I think you are now in a position to
explain why this quantity of the metal remains in the tube.”
“The column of mercury 30 inches high weighs exactly the same as the long column of air,” said
Fred, “the two balance each other.”
“You are quite right, Fred. We will now take the next step. I will draw a little square on this
slate with the help of the ruler. Each side of our square shall measure exactly 1 inch, and we may call
it a square inch. We will place the slate on the table, and I want you to imagine a tube 30 inches high,
built up on this little square, as its base. Imagine, further, this tube filled with mercury. The quantity of
mercury required to fill it would weigh just 15 lbs.
“Now if our tube in the last lesson had been as big as this one (a square inch in section), our
column of air pressing down on the surface of the mercury outside must also have been a square inch
—that is to say, it must have covered a square inch of mercury in the basin.
“What do we learn, then, from this? It is clear that the pressure of the air on a square inch of
surface would be balanced by a column of mercury weighing 15 lbs. In other words, the air presses
downwards with a force of 15 lbs. on every square inch of surface.
“Now let us go a little further,” he continued. “We will begin by measuring this slate. It is just 10
inches long and 8 inches across. I will mark the inches on the sides and draw lines across the slate
from mark to mark. You see I have marked out the slate into a great number of squares, each of them
measuring an inch every way. They are square inches. Count them, Fred, and see how many square
inches there are altogether.”
“There are 80 square inches, sir.”
“Very well; then the surface of the slate must bear a pressure of 80 times 15 lbs., or upwards of
half a ton. But a baby could lift the slate. It is not heavy. Why is this? There is not only that enormous
pressure on the top of the slate; there is an equal pressure from below and all around.
“Think what must be the pressure on this table. But with it all the table is not crushed, because
there is an upward pressure of equal force to balance it, and it is not felt.
“Every child goes about with many tons pressing upon his body, but he never feels it, because
there is air inside his body too, and that balances the pressure on all sides of him.
“This will help us to understand better why our leather sucker holds fast. Suppose the sucker
measured 6 square inches; there would then be a pressure of six times 15 lbs., or 90 lbs. pressing it to
the slate. We felt that pressure when we pulled the string, because there was no upward pressure
between the slate and the leather to balance it. The pressure of 90 lbs. on the top pressed the sucker
and the slate firmly together, and we could not move them.
“When the hole was bored in the leather, and air rushed in, we had the same force of 15 lbs. on
every square inch of the under surface, and the sucker let go the stone; the two pressures balanced
each other.”
 Lesson 43
Reptiles
The reptiles are the creeping or crawling animals. They produce their young from eggs, and do
not suckle them. Although they breathe through lungs they have cold blood, and the heart has three
chambers instead of four. The animals belonging to this class, like the mammals and the birds, are
divided into different orders. Our earlier lessons have made us familiar with one of these orders—
the snakes. It includes large serpents, that crush and mangle their prey within the large folds of their
bodies before swallowing them, and venomous snakes, which kill their victims by means of their
poisonous fangs.

Next to these we have the order of lizards. These include a large variety of animals, from the
pretty harmless little lizard, a few inches in length, which frequents the heaths and sunny banks in our
own country, to the enormous and powerful crocodiles and alligators of the tropics, many of which
attain the length of 20 feet.
 The body, which is long and covered with scales, is supported on four short legs, and there is
generally a great length of tapering tail.
They are all armed with teeth. Some of the smaller varieties live on insects, some on vegetable
food, but the giant members of the order live mostly in the water, and prey upon fish and other water
animals. They also lie in wait for animals that come down to the water to drink.
The chameleon is a curious member of the order. It lives mostly in trees, has the singular-power
of changing its color, and preys on insects. There are full twenty different varieties of this peculiar
animal. The tortoises form the next order of reptiles. These animals have their bodies enclosed in a
sort of double shell. There is a flattened under-shell or breast-plate, upon which the animal rests on
the ground. This is made of hard thickened skin, and is known as the plastron. It is joined at its edges
by a broad rounded shield, the carapace, which covers the animal. This carapace is really part of the
bony skeleton of the animal. All the vertebrate animals we have hitherto examined possess an internal
bony skeleton, but here we have a creature with its bony skeleton on the outside of its body. The
carapace is really nothing but the vertebral bones and the ribs, with the spaces between them filled up
with horny plates, the whole grown together into the hard solid shell. The head, neck, and limbs are
not joined immovably to this solid outer skeleton. They are free to move, and they contain all the chief
bones found in other animals. The front and hinder parts of both carapace and plastron are left open,
for the head and limbs.
 The head is very peculiar in form, and in place of teeth these animals are provided with a hard
horny mouth. The smaller members of the family feed on vegetables and insects, but there are others,
which measure upwards of 3 feet across, and prey upon crocodiles’ eggs, fish, and many kinds of
water animals.
 Lesson 44
Water
“Our lessons have taught us many things about water and its properties as a liquid,” said Mr.
Wilson. “Today we are going to learn what water really is.
“I have here some bottles filled with a gas, which at present is quite new to you. It is called
hydrogen. I cannot really show you the gas, because (like oxygen and nitrogen) it is colorless and
transparent. You cannot see it in the bottles; you must, for the present, take my word that it is there. I
will show it to you by its action before the lesson is over.
“First, however, I want you to think about the other gas, oxygen. What are the two chief
properties of oxygen?”
“It makes other things burn, sir; but it does not take fire itself,” said Fred.
“You saw me burn carbon, i.e. charcoal, in oxygen. What did we get from the burning?”
“Carbonic acid gas was formed, sir. Carbon unites with oxygen and forms this substance.”
“Now let us return to our new gas, hydrogen. You may have noticed, perhaps, that the jars are all
standing mouth downwards. This is because hydrogen is a very light gas—it is, indeed, the lightest
substance in nature. If I had placed the jars with their mouths upwards, the gas would have escaped.
Now watch what happens. I take the jar in my hand, still keeping it mouth downwards, and plunge this
lighted taper into it. The hydrogen catches fire and burns with a blue flame in the mouth of the jar, but
the flame of the taper itself is no longer burning. It has been extinguished by the gas.
 “Can you now tell me any difference between hydrogen and oxygen?”
“Hydrogen is very inflammable; it burns with a blue flame. Oxygen will not take fire.”

“Hydrogen puts out the taper; it will not allow other things to burn in it; but oxygen helps all
other things to burn. It was the oxygen in the air all round that made the hydrogen burn in the mouth of
the jar. If there had been no oxygen present, the hydrogen would not have taken fire, for oxygen makes
hydrogen burn as well as other things.
“I am now going to make some more hydrogen in this flask, and as the gas forms and passes up
through this little tube, we will burn it. It takes fire instantly, and burns with a pale blue flame. I will
next cover the flame with a dry cold glass, and one of you shall come and tell what you see.”
“The inside of the glass is covered with little drops of moisture, like dew-drops, sir.”
“So it is; but how did they get there? I must tell you. Hydrogen burns and forms a new substance
—water, just as carbon burns and forms a new substance—carbonic acid gas.
“Carbonic acid was formed by the union or combining of carbon and oxygen when in a heated
state; the new substance—water—has been formed by the union or combining of hydrogen and oxygen
when in a heated state.
“You must remember that the water formed by this burning hydrogen is not liquid as we usually
see it. It is in the form of steam or water gas. We could not see it until we placed the glass over the
flame. It condensed into little drops of actual water when it touched the cold glass.
“So, then, we have seen that out of fire comes water. The fuel we burn in our fires, the candles,
oil, and gas we use for lighting purposes, all contain hydrogen. When such things burn, therefore,
water must be formed.”
 Lesson 45
The Barometer
“I want you to think about our long tube of mercury again,” said Mr. Wilson. “Here it is. The
mercury stands in the tube, and you know it balances the air which is pressing on the surface of the
mercury in the basin. It stands now at about 30 inches, but what would happen if the pressure of the
air were to change?”
“The quantity of mercury in the tube would change too, I suppose, sir,” said Fred.
“Quite right, Fred. If the air pressed with greater pressure, more mercury would be forced up the
tube. If the air pressure were less than it now, some of the mercury would flow out into the basin; it
would not stand so high.
“Let us in imagination take our mercury tube up with us in a balloon. If we look at it after we
have ascended 1000 feet, we shall find that the mercury has fallen 1 inch, and it would continue to fall
at the same rate for every 1000 feet of our ascent. On the top of Mont Blanc, 15,000 feet high, the
column would measure only 15 inches instead of 30 inches, and would weigh only 7 1/2 lbs. instead
of 15 lbs. You know that the air gets thinner and thinner the higher we ascend, and the mercury proves
that it also gets lighter, and of course presses with less force.
“On the other hand, if we took our mercury tube down into a coal mine we should find that the
lower we went the higher the mercury would rise. It would rise, roughly speaking, at the rate of 1 inch
for every 1000 feet we descended. The weight and pressure of the air in the mine increases with the
depth.
“Now I want you to think of something else. You know that the air always contains more or less
water-vapor, and that this vapor rises in the air. It is very clear then that it must be lighter than the air.
Air which contains much moisture is always lighter than dry air. Dry air is heavy; moist, damp air is
light. Now how would the condition of the air affect our mercury tube? When the air is dry and
therefore heavy, it presses with great force on the mercury in the basin, and forces more mercury up
into the tube; the column of mercury is high. When the air is full of vapor and therefore light, the
pressure is less, and the column of mercury in the tube falls.
“You can see from this that the mercury in the tube measures exactly the pressure or weight of the
atmosphere, and I am now in a position to tell you that we have all this time been studying a very
useful and wonderful instrument. That which I have purposely spoken of as a mercury tube has a
proper name. We call it barometer. The word means ‘the weight measurer.’ It measures the weight or
pressure of the air.
 “Our tube and basin of mercury would be very awkward to carry about from place to place. This
is why, for the sake of safety, the tube is fitted into a frame, with a little cistern at the bottom instead
of the basin. The height of the column is marked in inches at the side of the tube, and the instrument is
complete.
“The barometer is used for measuring the heights of mountains, and you will readily see the
reason why.
“It is also used as a weather-glass. If the air contains a large amount of water-vapor, we know
that we are likely to get rain and stormy weather. If the air is dry, there is a prospect of fine weather.
The barometer, in either case, gives us timely warning of the weather to be expected, by registering
the pressure of the air.”
 Lesson 46
Expansion and Contraction
“We have seen that heat causes bodies to expand,” said Mr. Wilson, “and that when the heat is
removed the bodies contract again to their original bulk. It will be our business now to learn why this
happens. Look at this piece of iron. It is so hard that we cannot even scratch it. The smith, by heating
it in his forge, would make it soft and pliable, so that he could beat, cut, weld, and pierce it, and work
it up into any shape he pleased. Now in the first place, why is the iron such a hard substance?”
“Its molecules are held closely together by a very strong force of cohesion, sir,” said Fred. “The
stronger the cohesive force, the denser and harder is the substance.”
“Very good, Fred. Now can you guess why the iron becomes soft when it is put into the furnace?
I think I must tell you. The heat overcomes the force of cohesion. Cohesion is not so strong between
the molecules as it was before the iron was put into the fire. It is the same with all metals.
“What happens to these metals when they are still further heated?”
“They melt, sir; they change from the solid to the liquid form.”
“Quite right, Fred,” said Mr. Wilson, “and you can now explain what it all means.”
“I suppose the force of cohesion becomes still further weakened by the heat, sir, so that the
melted particles are free to move about.”
“Just so. The heat changes the solid to a liquid by overcoming the force of cohesion between its
molecules.
“Now let us take another step. The force of cohesion in liquids is very slight, and is thus easily
overcome. What happens when we apply heat to a liquid?”
“The liquid is converted into a gas, sir, and the particles of a gas, having no cohesion, fly from
each other in all directions.”
“Exactly. The solid ice becomes liquid water; the water becomes vapour or water-gas, and all
by the application of heat.
“Workmen often make great use of these expanding and contracting forces in the materials which
they use. The wheelwright, for instance, in fitting the tire of a wheel, first makes it red-hot, and while
it is in this expanded state, fixes it round the wheel. It is then plunged into cold water, and as it cools
it contracts and presses the wheel so closely, that it binds all parts of the wheel together.
“In building a furnace, too, the workman always leaves one end of the iron bars free. If both ends
were built fast into the bricks or masonry, their expansion by reason of the heat would tear away the
brickwork.
“In laying down a railway line, the iron or steel rails are not placed with their ends close
together. There is a little space left between them. The rails expand with the heat in the summer, and if
they were close together the expansion would cause them to bulge and curve.
“In riveting the iron and steel plates of ships and boilers, the rivets are always fastened and
fitted red-hot, and thus as they cool, they draw the plates together with great force by their own
contraction. Heated iron bars are often used to draw bulging walls upright. The bars are secured and
screwed up while heated, and as they cool they contract, and so draw the wall into the proper shape.”
 Lesson 47
Fishes
The fishes form the last class of vertebrate animals. Their most marked feature of distinction
from the other vertebrates is their special adaptation for the element in which they live, and their
consequent unfitness to live out of it.
This might be also said with a large amount of truth of the whale family of mammals. They are
all formed for a water life, and would soon die if they were left stranded on the dry land. But they
would die only through their inability to obtain food, and from no other cause whatever. They would
be starved out of the water. They live in the water because their food is in the water, but they breathe
through lungs, and must come to the surface of the waves to do it. The fish, taken out of the water, dies
from its inability to breathe in the atmosphere. It is suffocated in the new element, as the whale would
be if it were immersed for any considerable time beneath the waves.
The amount of oxygen taken in by their gill-breathing is not sufficient to warm the blood,
consequently fishes are all cold-blooded animals. The heart has only two chambers—an auricle and a
ventricle.
Most fishes possess a curious air-bladder, which enables them, at will, to descend to the bottom,
or rise to the surface of the water. The bladder itself is provided with strong muscles. When these
muscles contract, the bag is made smaller, the air in it is compressed, and the fish becomes heavier
than the water, so that it sinks with ease. In order to rise to the surface again the fish has only to swell
out the bag to its original size. This makes the body lighter, and it ascends as easily as it sank. Without
this wonderful piece of mechanism, such movements would be impossible. Certain fish, such as the
turbot, sole, and plaice, invariably live at or near the bottom of the water, and never move far from it.
These have no air-bladder. It is not required. Fishes are classified according to the nature of the
skeleton. In most fishes the skeleton is made of a hard bony substance, as is the case with the other
vertebrate animals. These are called in scientific language osseous fishes. The word osseous means
bony.
 Others have no actual bones, but only gristle or cartilage to form their skeleton. These are known
as cartilaginous fishes. The order is a very small one, and includes the shark, dog-fish, aw-fish, skate,
and sturgeon.
The osseous fishes are placed in two groups, according to the nature of their fins. If you examine
a fresh herring, sole, plaice, turbot, druon, or eel, you will find that all of them have soft flexible fins.
We call them soft-finned fishes. You would have no difficulty in realising the distinction if you placed
side by side with them a mackerel, a perch, or a little stickleback. The fins of these are anything but
soft and flexible. They are sharp, bony spines. These spines give the name to the fishes of this group.
We call them spine-finned fishes. They form a much smaller group than the soft-finned fishes.
 Lesson 48
The Syringe
“We have learned a great many things in connection with the pressure of the atmosphere,” said
Mr. Wilson. “Suppose we try to go a little further this morning. I have here a piece of glass tube open
at both ends. If I close one end firmly with my finger, fill the tube under water, and invert it, you know
the water will stand in the tube. Tell me why.”
“The pressure of the air on the surface of the water in the basin forces back the water into the
tube, so that it cannot run out,” said Fred.
“Right. Now I remove my finger, and the water runs out at once. Why does it run out? There is
air now pressing on the water in the tube with the same force as that which presses on the water in the
basin. One pressure balances the other and the water runs out of the tube, and rests level with that in
the basin.

“Come to the front, Fred, and suck the upper end of the tube. What do you find? Oh, you have a
mouthful of water. How did that come about? Let us see. I have here a bottle filled with water. The
cork fits very close, and I have passed a glass tube through a hole in the cork. Now I will press the
cork tightly into the neck of the bottle, and you shall try again to suck up the water as before. What,
can’t you do it? Try again. No, you can’t get any water this time, try as you will. The bottle is quite
full of water, and the cork touches the top of it. There is no air in the bottle to press down on the
water, as there was just now in the basin.
 “This is enough to prove that you do not suck up the water. Now try again with the open tube,
and you get a mouthful of water at once.
“The truth is that by sucking you merely remove the air from the tube. In the one case the
pressure of the air on the water in the basin forced some of it up the tube when you removed the air.
But in the other, there was no air in the bottle outside the tube, and, although you again drew away the
air from the tube itself, the water did not rise. In both experiments, then, the water is not sucked up; it
rises in the tube by the pressure of the air all round.
“Here is a glass squirt or syringe. I am going to show you how we can raise water with this
instrument, and to make it clear I will use colored water for the experiment.
“But first of all let us take the instrument to pieces and examine it. It is simply a glass tube, with
a rod, which we call the piston, fitting it closely all round, so that no air can pass between them. We
say it fits air-tight.
“Now I will dip the end of the tube into the water, and raise the piston rod. As I draw up the
piston the water rises in the tube. Why does it rise? That air-tight piston sucks up, and so removes the
air from the tube, and an empty space or vacuum is formed above the water. The pressure of the air
outside forces the water into the tube to fill up this vacuum.
“The water rises, then, in the piece of glass tube, and in the syringe, from the same cause. The air
is first removed, and then the air-pressure all round forces the water up the tube.
“If we press the piston down again, the water is driven out in a stream.”
 Lesson 49
The Thermometer
“I think you can all tell me how bodies—solids, liquids, and gases—are affected by heat,” said
Mr. Wilson.
“Bodies expand with heat, sir, and contract when the heat is taken away,” said Fred.
“Right,” said Mr. Wilson. “I think too you can give me the reason for this.”
“Heat overcomes the force of cohesion, sir. The particles when heated are not held so firmly
together, and therefore the body expands.”

“Very good,” said Mr. Wilson. “Now I want you to pay close attention to a little experiment. I
have here a small glass phial, filled with colored water, and fitted with a cork and a piece of glass
tubing. The water reaches some little distance above the cork. Here is a basin of hot water, Fred shall
come to the front and hold the phial in it. What do you see now?”
“The colored water is rising higher in the tube, sir.”
“Quite right,” said Mr. Wilson. “But what does this prove?”
“It proves that the colored water in the phial is expanding; it wants more room, and so it rises in
the tube.”
“But why does it expand?”
“The heat of the water in the basin makes it expand, sir.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Wilson. “Now let us make the water still hotter by pouring into it some
boiling water out of the kettle. As soon as that is done you see the colored water in the tube rise
higher and higher. The hotter the liquid into which it is plunged, the higher the water rises in the tube.
“Now we will put the phial into this basin of cold water, and watch again. The colored water is
now shrinking or contracting; it is falling in the tube. Hence, you see, that by carefully marking the
height of the colored water in the tube each time, we could use our phial and tube as an instrument for
measuring the temperature of the water. The phial and tube give us a rough-and-ready but true
measurement. They make a simple sort of thermometer. Thermometer means heat-measurer, from two
Greek words—therme=heat, and metron=a measure. But what is it that makes the phial and tube a
heat-measurer?”

“The expansion and contraction of the water inside does the actual measuring, sir.”
“Just so,” said Mr. Wilson. “But other substances besides water expand with heat, and contract
when the heat is taken away. Why would not a bar of iron, for instance, make a good thermometer?”
“Solids do not expand sufficiently to be seen and marked,” said Fred.
“Quite right, Fred, and so of course they would not be suitable for thermometers. Then again, air
and other gases expand and contract too rapidly to be of any use in this way. We find liquids are the
only bodies fitted for the purpose.
“We said just now that the phial of water made a rough-and-rude sort of thermometer. It is rough
and rude because it would not suit all purposes. Suppose, for example, I had stood the phial in ice.
What would have happened? The water inside the tube would have become ice too in a short time,
and as ice it would have been of no further use for measuring.
“Or suppose I put it over the spirit-lamp. It would boil and become changed into steam, or
water-gas, and therefore be useless again. The best liquid for a thermometer is mercury.
“It expands and contracts sufficiently to be seen and marked.
“It does not change into the vapor state, till an exceedingly high temperature is reached.
“It does not freeze, except at a very low temperature.”
 Lesson 50
Structure and Habits Compared
In studying the build of the various classes of vertebrate animals, and comparing them with man,
one must be forcibly struck with the remarkable resemblance they all bear to each other. These
animals, man included, are all built upon one general plan. The bony skeleton is simply modified in
form to suit the requirements of the different animals. The essential part of the skeleton in all is the
spine. It supports the head, carries the ribs and limbs, and contains the spinal cord—the great central
nerve.
Our lessons have shown us how this column of vertebrae is modified in the various animals,
especially as regards the manner in which the bones are jointed. In man and the mammals generally,
the body of each vertebra rests upon a smooth elastic pad of gristle, to provide for easy springy
movement and to avoid friction.
In the snakes these elastic pads give place to ball-and-socket joints. Such joints are essential to
these creatures, both for their peculiar locomotion, and for their mode of feeding, by swallowing their
prey whole.
The vertebrae of the fish are joined by a double cup-joint, the little hollows thus formed between
the bones being filled with a thin fluid, to enable them to play freely, and so add to their flexibility as
a whole.
Let us next consider the special development of the head. The head, you know, consists of two
parts, the skull and the face. The skull contains the brain, and in man it is this part of the head which is
most highly developed.
We have only to compare the head of a man with the head of any of the lower animals, and we
shall see that in them it is the face and not the skull, which is specially developed.
From the brain, nerves pass out through special holes in the skull to the organs of sight, smell,
hearing, and taste. Most of the lower animals are dependent entirely upon their sense organs, some for
their daily existence, others for safety against their enemies. Hence it is that nature specially develops
these organs to suit the life and habits of the individual.
The night-prowling flesh-eaters, which stalk their prey after dusk, develop large, powerful,
piercing eyes for seeing in the dark. Timid and defenceless animals such as the deer and antelope, the
ox and horse, the rabbit and hare, always on the alert against their blood-thirsty enemies, have large,
erect, wide-open ears to give them timely notice of danger.
Some animals, again, rely to a large extent on their sense of smell. These are distinguished by
their length of face, the nasal passages being specially developed to give greater scope for the nerves
of smell.
We have already had occasion to notice the variety of development in the limbs of animals to
suit their special style of locomotion.
Man has two pairs of limbs, but although the general plan of structure is the same as in other
mammals, he is the one animal that uses only the lower limbs for the purposes of locomotion.
All the land mammals use both pairs of limbs, and even the apes and monkeys depend upon their
fore limbs in their movements on the ground.
 In birds and in the flying mammals the fore-limbs are built upon the same general plan as in the
land mammals, except that the hand portion of the limb is lengthened out to form a wing for the
purpose of locomotion through the air.
Among the reptiles, snakes have no limbs, but lizards and tortoises have the usual four limbs. In
the latter the bones of the limbs are not immovably fixed like the rest of the skeleton, but are jointed
and free to move.
The frog moves by successive leaps, and to provide for this peculiar mode of locomotion the
hind limbs are lengthened very considerably. The feet of these limbs, too, are webbed to enable the
creature to swim in the water.
Fishes require no limbs for their water locomotion. They propel themselves by the tail, and the
fins serve to balance the body.
 Lesson 51
The Suction-Pump
“We are going to talk about the common suction-pump this morning,” said Mr. Wilson, “and I
think we shall find that our lesson on the syringe has made this next step very easy.
“Let us commence by learning the construction of the pump, and we will then find out how it
raises the water. The water, you know, comes from a well deep down in the ground. The first
essential, therefore, of a pump must be a long pipe to dip down into the water. This is known as the
suction-pipe. Our open-glass tube standing in the water would represent such a pipe. You remember
that the water rested at the same level inside and outside the pipe, because the pressure of the air on
both was equal. But we managed to raise the water in the tube. How did we do it?"

"We removed the air from the tube, sir," said Fred, "and then the water rose in it, because of the
pressure of the air all round."
"Quite right, Fred, and this is exactly what we must do with the pump, or the water can never
rise. Let us now go back to the suction-pipe. Fitted closely on the upper end of it is a larger tube—the
barrel. The entrance to the barrel is guarded by a little door, which works on a hinge, and opens
upwards only. Such a door is called a valve; it allows the water to pass upward, but prevents it from
returning. This one is known as the suction-valve.
"In the barrel is fitted an air-tight piston, capable of being moved up and down by a piston rod,
which is worked by a handle. In the centre of the piston is another valve similar to the suction-valve,
and, like it, opening upwards only. This is called the piston-valve.
"Now I think we are clear as to the construction of the pump. Let us see next how it works. I told
you that the whole object of this contrivance is to remove the air from the barrel and suction-pipe.
When this is done the water will rise by the pressure of the air all round.
"Imagine that the piston has been forced down, and made to rest upon the suction-valve in the
bottom of the barrel. Both valves are closed. There is no space, and consequently no air between
them. The pumping will begin by raising the piston. There is air, of course, above the piston, and, as
the piston rises, this air forces down its valve and closes it.

"But what has been happening at the suction-valve meanwhile? The raising of the piston, with its
valve closed, has made an empty space or vacuum in the barrel, and the air in the pipe, below has
forced open the suction -valve, and rushed through to fill up the space. There is, therefore, less air in
the suction-pipe than there was; there is not the same pressure on the water within the pipe. But the air
outside is pressing on the water in the well with the same force as ever, and this outer pressure forces
the water to rise some distance in the pipe.

"The next step in the pumping operation is to lower the piston. As it descends it presses upon the
air below it in the barrel, and this air forces up the piston-valve, and escapes. But why does the air
not return down the suction-pipe again? It cannot. The first result of lowering the piston, and pressing
it down upon the air, is to close fast the suction-valve.
"The piston and suction-valve are now close together as they were at first, and the work
proceeds by raising the piston as before. This time more air, probably the whole of it, is exhausted
from the suction-pipe. If so, the water rushes up through the suction-valve and fills the barrel.
"When we lower the piston again, it is water which forces its way through the piston-valve, and
by the time the piston has reached the bottom of the barrel again, we have a continuous column of
water from the pipe upwards.
"The next raising of the piston closes its valve by the weight of the water above, and that water
is carried up to the spout, whence it runs out in a stream."
 Lesson 52
How to make a Thermometer
"The other day I led you," said Mr. Wilson, "by first considering the phial and tube of colored
water, to find out for yourselves the nature and use of a thermometer. We began our simple experiment
with colored water, but we know now that mercury is a much better liquid for the purpose
"I have here an actual thermometer," he continued. "Let us examine it. It consists of a long glass
tube with a hollow bulb or ball at one end. The tube is so very fine that we may call it a capillary
tube. The ball and part of the tube are filled with mercury, and both tube and ball are quite sealed and
closed.
"Now look at the top of the tube. What do you see?"
"There is no mercury there, sir," said Fred. "I suppose it is an empty space or vacuum."
"Yes, Fred, you are quite right. It is a vacuum," said Mr. Wilson.
"We will now place the bulb or reservoir of the instrument in some hot water and watch it. The
mercury, you see, expands with the heat, and rises in the tube.
"Suppose I tell you now how this curious and useful instrument is made and filled with mercury.
I think it will interest you.
"The first point for us to notice will be the nature of the tube itself. Of course you will readily
understand that if the instrument is to measure correctly, the rise and fall of the mercury must be equal
in all parts of it. The greatest care has to be used in making the tubes. They must be of uniform bore
throughout.
"As each tube is made, it is tested by introducing a small quantity of mercury. The mercury is
moved about into different parts of the tube, and if it always measures the same, the tube must be of
uniform bore.
"When a suitable tube has been obtained, one end is blown out into a hollow ball, and the tube is
then ready to be filled with mercury.
"This filling of the tube, however, is perhaps even a more delicate task than making it. It would
be absolutely impossible to pour the mercury in, because of the fineness of the bore.
"The upper end of the glass tube is first made soft and pliable by heating it, and while in that
state it is blown out into a long pointed funnel, and a small hole is made in the point. The bulb at the
other end is then heated over the spirit-lamp, the result of the heating being to expand the air in it, and
so force some of it out at the hole in the pointed end.
 "The point is then immediately plunged into a vessel of mercury. As the tube cools, the air in it
contracts, and requires less room. The pressure of the air on the surface of the mercury then forces
some of that liquid into the tube.
"The tube is next placed in an inclined position in a charcoal furnace, so as to allow the bulb at
its lower end to get hot. The heating, of course, expands the air in bulb and tube, and some of the
expanded air escapes by the funnel at the top. It is then set upright to cool.
"The little air left contracts as it cools, and the mercury passes down into the bulb. The same
process is repeated again and again till the bulb and part of the tube are filled with mercury.
"The rest is easy. The bulb is heated till the mercury boils, and begins to evaporate. The vapor
carries off with it all moisture and air that may still remain in the tube, and the moment the boiling
mercury reaches the top, the glass tube is again softened with heat, and then pinched together, so as to
securely close it.
"When the tube is closed we have a thermometer, capable of showing changes of temperature, by
the rise and fall of the mercury."
 Lesson 53
The Skin and Its Covering
You know that the whole of the external surfaces of your body are covered with a thin coat or
covering—the skin. You know, too, what a protection this thin covering is, because you have
sometimes fallen down and grazed it, and the bare exposed place has been very sore.
Thin as this skin is, it may be separated into two distinct layers. You have all seen the skin of the
hand or the foot raised up in a blister. The raised blister is the upper layer of the skin separated from
the lower one. This outer layer is so hard, tough, and horny that it may be cut or pricked without
causing the least pain. You may run a needle through it without feeling it, and without drawing blood.
That being so, we know there can be neither nerves nor blood-vessels of any kind in this part of the
skin.
Beneath the tough, outer layer is another—the true skin. The proper name for this is the dermis.
The outer layer is called the epi-dermis because it lies on the dermis.
The under part of the dermis—that next the flesh— consists of fibers closely interwoven
together. The rest of the layer consists of soft little bags or cells, too small to be seen without the aid
of the microscope. The cells are closely packed together, and surrounded on all sides with nerves and
blood-vessels. We could not prick the dermis anywhere with the finest needle without drawing blood
and causing pain.
Fresh dermic cells are being constantly formed, and as these form, they push the old ones up to
the surface, where they become flattened into tough horny scales—like the scales of a fish. These
scales form the outer layer—the epi-dermis. They are really dead flattened cells. They are being
constantly rubbed off the surface of the body, and constantly renewed from below.
But the skin is not merely a protecting coat for the body. It is an important organ for cleansing the
blood of its impurities. Our earlier lessons have shown us the perspiration or sweat, oozing out
through the pores of the skin after work or exercise. This perspiration is really waste matter, which
has been drained out of the blood, by little coiled-up tubes—called sweat glands—in the under layer
of the skin.
The bodies of all animals which have an internal skeleton are covered with a double skin,
similar in structure to that of man.
Fishes, frogs, and reptiles, being cold-blooded animals, have naked skins. They have no outer
clothing, or protection, other than the skin itself, for the simple reason that there is no need to
preserve the bodily heat—there is, in fact, no bodily heat to preserve.
In mammals and birds, whose blood is warm, we find the skin clothed with a more or less thick
and warm covering. In birds this outer coat takes the form of feathers, in most mammals the covering
is hair. We have already had occasion to notice the special fitness of feathers as a clothing for birds,
both as regards warmth and lightness, and as an aid to locomotion through the element in which they
live.
Most mammals, as we said, are clothed with hair, although there are various modifications of
this kind of covering. The cat, rabbit, squirrel, and mole, for instance, have a very smooth, soft coat,
which we call fur. But what is fur? It is in reality fine, soft, silky hair, growing very close and thick on
the skin. Then, too, the sheep has a coat of wool. But wool is only fine, long, curly hair set very close
and thick on the skin.
The hog has a covering of bristles, and bristles are merely thick, strong, stiff hairs. Some
animals, such as the hedgehog and porcupine, have these same stiff, strong hairs, only much stiffer and
stronger still. We then call them spines.
These outer coverings of feathers, or hair in its various forms, are all modifications of the horny
matter of which the epidermis of the skin consists. It becomes in certain parts very hard and horny
indeed. It forms nails on our hands and feet, and claws on the toes of various animals. The hoofs and
horns of other animals are all formed of the same hard, horny development of the epidermis of the
skin.
We tan the skins of many of our large mammals into leather, but it is only the under layer, or
dermis, which is used; the epidermis is all scraped away.
It is worth noticing that the Cetacea (or whale-like animals) have smooth, naked skins to assist in
their water locomotion; but, being warm-blooded mammals, their bodily heat must be kept in. This is
accomplished by a thick under-coat of fat or blubber beneath the skin. Wool, fur, or feathers would be
out of the question.
 Lesson 54
The Lifting Pump
"You remember our long tube of mercury, of course," said Mr. Wilson. "I want you to think about
it now. What was the height of the mercury in the tube?"
"The column of mercury is usually about 30 inches high, sir."
"What causes it to rise in the tube?"
"The pressure of the air all round forces the mercury up the tube, sir."
"And what is it that causes the water to rise in a pump?"
"The water also rises in the pump because it is forced up the pipe by the pressure of the air all
round, sir."
"Those are three very good answers," said Mr. Wilson. "Now if we used the pump to raise
mercury instead of water, how high do you think we could pump it? You must remember that the
mercury, like the water, would rise only by reason of the pressure of the air."
"I suppose, sir," said Fred, "it would be impossible to raise the mercury beyond 30 inches."
"You are quite right, Fred. You know that a column of mercury 30 inches high, and a square inch
in section, weighs just 15 lbs., and this exactly balances the pressure of the atmosphere on the square
inch.

"We might have used water in the tube instead of mercury, but as water is times as light

as mercury, our tube must have been times as long, because we should have required

times as much water to balance the weight of the air. Our tube must then have been 30

inches × = 34 feet (nearly).

"Now, of course, you see clearly why we use mercury instead of water. It requires 34 feet of
water to balance 30 inches of mercury—that is, to balance the pressure of the air.
"I wonder whether you can tell me now how high we can raise water by means of a pump?"
"I should think the water would rise about 34 feet, sir," said Fred.
"Well, it ought to rise to that height, Fred, but it does not, because we cannot get a perfect
vacuum, unless the pump is constructed with the utmost care. The greatest height we can raise water
with a common pump is from 26 to 28 feet.
"Now although we cannot raise water higher than this with an ordinary pump, it is often found
necessary to carry water to many times this height. Let me explain how it is done.
"For this purpose a pump, called the Lifting Pump, is used. The main difference between it and
the common pump is that the piston of this one has no valve. Near the bottom of the barrel is a
discharge-pipe which bends upwards, and may be carried to any height. At the entrance to this pipe is
a valve, opening outwards. It allows the water to pass out of the barrel, but prevents it from returning.
 "The working is very simple. As soon as the water reaches the barrel in the ordinary way, the
next downward move of the solid piston must force it somewhere. The water itself, you know, will
not be squeezed into smaller bulk. It cannot go back into the suction-pipe, because its valve is closed
firmly. The other valve, however, leading into the discharge-pipe is open, and, at the first pressure of
the piston, the water takes that course. A pump of this kind will lift water to almost any height."
 Lesson 55
Thermometers
"I want you to think of our lesson on the thermometer," said Mr. Wilson. "We followed the
various steps of making, testing, filling, and sealing the tubes. Now let us see what we have got. We
have an instrument which will tell us that one body is hotter than another. That is all. We want
something more than this. We want to say how much hotter it is. We want to show the steps or degrees
of heat.
"To do this the bulb is first placed in a vessel of melting ice. After it has stood there for a short
time, the mercury contracts and sinks to a certain point, but it will not sink lower. This point is
marked in some way on the tube, and it shows the melting-point of ice, or, as we more frequently call
it, the freezing-point of water. Both mean the same thing.
"The instrument is next suspended in a vessel, in which water is being boiled, so that it is
surrounded on all sides by the steam of the boiling water. The mercury expands with the heat, and
rises in the tube to a certain point, but after reaching that point, it will not rise higher, however long it
is kept there. This point is marked on the tube as the boiling-point of water. We have now found two
very important points—one, that at which water freezes; the other, that at which water boils. Between
these two points we may make any steps we please.
"All thermometers are made in one way up to this stage of the process, but there are different
methods of dividing the space between the freezing and boiling points. In one thermometer the space
is divided into 100 equal steps; the freezing-point is marked 0, and the boiling-point 100. This is a
very simple arrangement, and the instrument is known as the centigrade thermometer—from the Latin
centum, 'a hundred,' and gradus, 'a step.'
 There are 100 steps or grades between the freezing-point and the boiling-point. This
thermometer is not commonly used in our country.
 "The one mostly in use places the freezing-point at 32 degrees, and the boiling-point at 212
degrees, thus making 180 steps or degrees between the two points. We call this instrument the
Fahrenheit thermometer, from the name of the man who invented it, and we write the steps 32° or
212° (32 degrees or 212 degrees).
"This freezing-point of water is not the lowest temperature that can be reached. Fahrenheit
found, by making a mixture of snow and salt, a temperature 32° lower than the freezing-point, and he
thought he had actually reached the extreme limit. He called this point 0° or zero, and worked
upwards from it. Lower temperatures, however, have been found since his time. Ten degrees below
zero on the Fahrenheit thermometer means 32° + 10° = 42° below the freezing-point.
"In the centigrade thermometer 10 grades below zero signifies 10 grades below the actual
freezing-point, because the freezing-point in that instrument is zero."
 Lesson 56
The Mouths of Animals
Just as the limbs of animals are specially adapted to their mode of locomotion, so are the teeth,
the form of the mouth, and even the movements of the jaw adapted to the kind of food the creatures
eat. It will be very advantageous at this stage to compare the various classes of vertebrate animals in
these respects.
Taking first the Insectivora—bats, hedgehogs, and moles—we find the teeth bristling with sharp
points, for crushing the hard horny cases of beetles and other insects, which form their natural food.
They feed on insects, not by accident, but because their teeth are formed to crush such food. Some of
the bats live on fruit. Their teeth have no sharp cutting points, but are broad and rounded for grinding
purposes.
Passing next to the Carnivora, we notice in all of them the enormous development of the four
canine teeth, and the sharp cutting edges of the others. The great canine teeth are meant for seizing the
prey; the sharp jagged edges of the other teeth are for cutting through the flesh; and this work is still
further assisted by the peculiar up-and-down movement of the jaw.
In the cat and dog families the tongue is long, fleshy, and very flexible. These animals drink by
lapping with the tongue. In the cats the tongue is furnished with sharp horny spikes on its upper
surface, and is used for rasping the flesh from the bones. The dog's tongue is smooth. He perspires
through his tongue.
The seal feeds mostly on fish. Its teeth are furnished with sharp saw-like edges, to serve the
double purpose of seizing and holding such slippery prey.
In the Rodents (gnawing animals) the four incisor teeth become the chief peculiarity. These teeth
are of more rapid growth than the teeth of most animals; they develop into sharp-edged chisels; their
very work of gnawing tends to sharpen them for further use. The cleft in the upper lip is designed to
assist in the work of gnawing. There are no canines. Between the last of the incisors and the first of
the molars, in each jaw, there is a space where the canine teeth of other animals are set. The molars
are meant for grinding, not cutting, and the movements of the jaw, from side to side, as well as up and
down, are designed to assist in the work.
The mouths of the Ruminants (cud-chewers) present their peculiarity, and it is in the entire
absence of incisors in the upper jaw. The place of these teeth is occupied by a hard gristly pad, which
the animals use in collecting up and tearing off the tufts of grass, preparatory to the act of swallowing
them. The molars are all largely developed, but they have broad crowns for grinding, and the jaw has
the usual double movement designed for the same purpose.
The so-called Toothless animals differ considerably among themselves, according to the nature
of their food. In none of the family do we find canine teeth; in some the incisors are wanting; and
others, again, are entirely without teeth. In most of them the lips are hard and sufficiently horny to
crush the insects and soft-bodied animals on which they live.
It is worthy of notice here that many of the insect-feeding animals—mammals, batrachia, and
reptiles—have tongues specially fitted to assist in securing their prey. The tongue is not only long and
flexible, but is capable of being thrust for a considerable distance out of the mouth. As a further aid in
capturing their insect prey, the tongue is generally covered with a slimy, gummy fluid, which holds the
victims fast while they are being conveyed to the mouth.
Among the Cetacea (whale-like animals) the great Greenland whale presents a remarkable
peculiarity. Its mouth is entirely destitute of teeth; but hanging from the roof of the mouth, downwards,
are a number of transverse horny plates of whalebone. These plates act the part of a trap, in which to
entangle the small creatures that form the natural food of this sea monster. Birds, as we know, are
without teeth. Their bills serve instead of teeth. Fishes and reptiles have usually a large number of
small pointed teeth, all directed backwards, for the purpose of seizing and holding their prey, which
they swallow whole.
 Lesson 57
The Force-Pump
"Did any of you see that great fire last week?" asked Mr. Wilson. "Ah! I thought so; several of
you saw it, and a very grand and awful sight it was. Did you ever feel curious to know how the
firemen send out the water from their hose in that one continuous stream?"
"Oh yes, sir," said Fred, "do tell us, please. It has often puzzled me."
"Well," said Mr. Wilson, "it is the work of a pump, but this pump is like neither the suction-pump
nor the lifting pump. It is called a force-pump. I will describe it to you.
"In this contrivance, the suction-pipe and barrel are exactly the same as in the lifting pump, and
the piston too is solid—that is, it has no valve. The great difference is that in the force-pump the pipe
leading from the barrel opens into an air-tight chamber of great strength—the condensing chamber.
The entrance into it is guarded by a strong valve opening upwards—that is, away from the barrel. The
discharge-pipe dips down into this chamber, and passes upwards into the air, but there is no valve in
it.
 "As in the case of the lifting pump, the piston, in descending, presses down on the water in the
barrel and closes the suction-valve. At the same time it drives the water through the pipe into the
condensing chamber, and this is repeated with each downward stroke of the piston.
"You must remember that this condensing chamber is not only air-tight, but is full of air. As the
water rushes in, this air is very much compressed, and then commences a struggle between the
compressed air and the water which is still being forced in. The air presses down on the water, but
the water is incompressible; it cannot be compressed into smaller bulk. It cannot return by the way it
came, partly because of the valve, and partly because of the body of water rushing up behind it. There
is one way of escape—up the discharge-pipe; and up that pipe it rushes in a continuous stream.
 "I have been describing to you an ordinary force-pump. The fire-engine is really a double force -
pump; that is all. There is a central condensing chamber with a force-pump on each side. The pipes
from both pumps open into the one condensing chamber, and the delivery-hose passes out from it. A
strong hose from the bottom of each pump is attached to the water supply in the road, and, as the
pumping goes on, the water is raised through these pipes into the barrels of both pumps, and passed
from them into the common condensing chamber, whence it is sent out in a continuous stream through
the delivery hose."
 Lesson 58
Ice
"We are going to have one or two further experiments with our phial of colored water today,"
said Mr. Wilson. "You remember I called it our water-thermometer.
"I will begin by heating some water over the spirit-lamp to about 60° or 70°, and we will test it
with an actual thermometer. When the thermometer tells us that this temperature is reached, we will
stand the phial in the water, and in a short time the colored water inside the phial will show the same
temperature.
"Now we have been taught that bodies expand with heat, and contract when the heat is taken
away. We should expect that, in all bodies, there would be a regular step-by-step expansion, with
every degree of heat added, and a corresponding, regular, step-by-step contraction, with every degree
of heat taken away. If we raised the present temperature of the water in our phial by degrees we
should find this to be actually the case. But we are not going to raise it this time. We will lower it.
"How shall I lower it?"
"By adding some cold water, sir."
"Very well; I will add cold water, and at the same time stand the thermometer in it. You in the
meanwhile shall watch the result. As the water in the phial feels the diminution of heat, it gradually
contracts, and the column in the tube falls lower and lower. This will go on till the thermometer
shows us that 39° or 40° is reached. From this point, as the cooling proceeds, the colored water will
be seen to rise in the tube again.
"What does this show?"
"It shows that the water is actually expanding again, sir. It rises in the tube because it requires
more room."
"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "Now I will put some pieces of ice in the water to cool it still
more. As it cools, the expansion in the tube will go on.
"We will put in some more ice, and wait till the thermometer stands at 32° (the freezing-point).
The expansion of the colored water inside the phial and tube still goes on, for it continues to rise, and
at last, when it reaches the same temperature as the surrounding water, it assumes the solid form and
becomes ice.
"But what has happened now?"
"The phial has burst, sir."
"Yes, the expansion of the water at the moment when it changed into ice was so sudden, and so
violent, that the glass was not able to yield equally, and it burst. I think you will now readily see why
water would not be a suitable liquid for filling thermometers.
"Water is unlike most other bodies in this respect, but its peculiar action, as it changes into the
solid state, is of immense importance in nature.
"You know that as bodies contract, their molecules are drawn more closely together; they
become denser, and of course heavier. When they expand the opposite happens: their molecules are
driven apart; they are less dense, and consequently lighter than they were.
"Water, we have seen, contracts step by step, as it cools, till it reaches about 40°, but lower than
that it expands. Water, then, is heaviest when it stands at a temperature of 40°.
"Imagine a pond of water in winter. The surface water cools first, and when it has cooled to
about 40° it has so far contracted, that its particles are densely packed, and it is heavier, bulk for
bulk, than the other water in the pond.
"What must happen then?"
"This heavy surface water must sink to the bottom, sir."
"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson, "and it does sink, and drives up to the surface that which is not so
dense and heavy. This, however, soon cools and sinks in its turn, and so it goes on till the whole body
of the water is cooled to that temperature. But suppose this went on till the freezing-point was
reached. The coldest and heaviest water would be at the bottom, and the ice would be formed from
below upwards, till the whole pond became one solid mass, killing all plant and animal life.
"Instead of this, the water in cooling from 40° to 32° gradually expands, so that when the actual
freezing takes place, the coldest water—that which forms the sheet of ice—is floating on the surface,
because it is so much lighter than the rest. The ice which thus forms on the surface of the pond
becomes a protecting coat for the still unfrozen water beneath it."
 Lesson 59
The Internal Organs
The main distinction between vertebrate and invertebrate animals lies in the fact that the former
always possess a skull and a vertebral column, and with them a brain and spinal cord.
The brain and nervous system are constructed on a very similar plan in all vertebrate animals,
although they reach their highest perfection in man. The weight of the human brain averages from 3
lbs. to 3.5 lbs.; it weighs absolutely more than that of any other animal except the elephant and the
whale. The elephant's brain weighs from 8 to 10 lbs.; that of the whale about 5 lbs.; and that of the
horse only about 19 ounces. When we compare the relative sizes of these creatures, we see at once
the immense superiority of man over them all. Birds have smaller brains than mammals, and reptiles
smaller still, while fishes take the lowest place in this respect among the vertebrate animals.
The general plan of structure, as to the trunk and the organs lodged in it, is very similar in all
mammals and birds. There is an upper chamber (the thorax), and a lower one (the abdomen), the two
being separated by a partition known as the diaphragm. The heart and lungs are lodged in the upper
chamber, or thorax. The heart is the center of the circulatory system; the lungs do the work of carrying
off carbonic acid, and supplying the blood with fresh oxygen from the air which is breathed in. The
mouth and nostrils do the double work of taking in fresh air and breathing out carbonic acid gas.
In mammals and birds the heart always contains four chambers: the auricle and ventricle on the
right side contain impure venous blood; the corresponding chambers on the left side contain the
purified blood which has been sent back from the lungs.
The lung-breathing in all these animals supplies the blood with abundance of oxygen, and their
bodies are warm because of the burning which this large amount of oxygen produces.
In birds the lungs themselves are smaller than in mammals, but breathing goes on not only
through these organs, but through all parts of the body, so that air penetrates everywhere. Even the
hollow bones are filled with air, and there are air cells in the cavity of the chest.
In reptiles the heart has only three chambers instead of four, and the lungs are small. Very little
oxygen is taken in by these lungs; consequently there is not sufficient burning to keep up a warm
temperature, and the body is cold.
The two auricles of the heart open into a common ventricle. The ventricle has to receive the
venous blood from all parts of the body, as well as the purified blood sent back from the lungs.
Instead, therefore, of sending out through the arteries pure blood, well supplied with oxygen, it sends
out this mixture of the two.
Fishes differ from all other vertebrate animals in having gills instead of lungs. The heart has only
two chambers, a single auricle and ventricle. The veins bring the blood to the auricle, and, after
passing through the ventricle, it is sent out to the gills, and thence into all parts of the body. A very
small amount of oxygen is taken in from the water in this way; consequently the oxidation is not
sufficient to warm the body. Fishes, like reptiles, are cold-blooded animals.
 Lesson 60
The Air-Pump
"We have had occasion to refer to the air-pump in some of our lessons," said Mr. Wilson. "This
morning we will have a look at the pump itself, to find out how it is made and how it acts.
"It consists, as you may see, of two parts—a pump, and a large glass bell, commonly called the
receiver. The pump is very similar in construction to the common suction-pump. It consists of a
barrel, and an air-tight piston capable of moving up and down in it. It is made of brass, and every part
is most carefully fitted.
"As in the suction-pump, the piston is furnished with a valve opening outwards, and there is also
at the bottom of the barrel another valve, which opens in the same direction. You know that the whole
purpose of a valve is to allow the easy and ready flow of a fluid in one direction, and to prevent it
from flowing back again. The first attempt the fluid makes to flow back simply shuts the valve, and
the passage is closed.
"Below the barrel is a brass pipe leading from the pump to the second part of the instrument—
the receiver. This pipe is furnished with a stop-cock. When the cock is turned on, the way along the
pipe is open, but when it is turned off, and so closed, not a particle of air can find its way through.

"The receiver is simply a large glass bell, which fits closely on a brass plate. In the brass plate
is a hole into which fits—perfectly air—tight the pipe leading from the barrel of the pump.
"The whole object of the contrivance is to remove the air from the receiver, so as to leave an
empty space, or vacuum.
"Let us turn the cocks on, and commence pumping with the piston close down on the suction-
valve at the bottom of the barrel. That valve is quite closed, and so is the piston-valve above. Now,
as we raise the piston, the pressure of the air in the barrel closes its valve, and all that air is forced
out at the top.
"But what has been going on below the piston? The raising of the piston has made (or tried to
make) a vacuum above the suction-valve.
"So far you have noticed, no doubt, that the construction and working of the air-pump and the
common suction-pump are exactly the same.
"Now I want you to consider the nature of the two fluids. Water is a liquid, and rises in a body
into the barrel, as soon as the air-pressure is removed. The air to be removed from the receiver of the
air-pump is a gas. It has no cohesion between its particles. They spread out from each other, so as to
fill the greatest possible space.
"Keeping this in mind, let us return now to the vacuum which the pumping makes in the barrel of
the air-pump. As this is being done, the air in the receiver and the pipe leading from it expands,
forces open the suction-valve, fills the barrel again, and prevents a vacuum. There is air still in the
receiver, the pipe, and the barrel, but it is not so dense as it was before the pumping. Some of it has
been removed, and the rest has been made to expand, so as to fill a greater space.
"Now we will force the piston down again. This downward movement of the piston compresses
the air in the barrel and closes the suction-valve; while at the same time this compressed air forces
open the piston-valve and escapes through the top of the barrel as before.
"The next upward movement of the piston tends to create a vacuum again, and the air in the
receiver expands once more to fill it.
"This is the whole secret. The next downward movement drives out all the air between the
suction-valve and piston-valve; the following upward movement causes further expansion of the air
that still remains, and so it goes on, each action of the pump removing some of the air, the rest
expanding to fill the space, until that which remains becomes thinner and thinner—so thin and feeble,
indeed, that it has not power to force open the suction-valve. We then say that the receiver has been
exhausted."
科学读本（英文原版）第五册
 第五册

目录
Lesson 01 Matter
Lesson 02 Man and Brute
Lesson 03 Conduction of Heat
Lesson 04 Tea
Lesson 05 Solids, Liquids, and Gases
Lesson 06 Bones and Joints
Lesson 07 Conductors and Non-Conductors
Lesson 08 Tea—Its Cultivation and Preparation
Lesson 09 Food—Why We Eat
Lesson 10 General Properties of Matter
Lesson 11 Locomotion in Mammals
Lesson 12 Boiling
Lesson 13 Coffee
Lesson 14 Constituents of the Body
Lesson 15 General Properties of Matter
Lesson 16 Limbs and Locomotion
Lesson 17 Convection
Lesson 18 Cocoa
Lesson 19 Kinds of Food
Lesson 20 Measurement of Matter
Lesson 21 The Skin
Lesson 22 The Boiling Point of Liquids
Lesson 23 Vegetable Oils
Lesson 24 Animal Food
Lesson 25 Measurement as Practiced by the Mechanic
Lesson 26 The Skin—Cleanliness
Lesson 27 Distillation
Lesson 28 Other Vegetable Oils
Lesson 29 Animal Food—Milk, Butter, Cheese, Eggs
Lesson 30 Steam
Lesson 31 Coverings of Mammals
Lesson 32 Vegetable Secretions—Sugar
Lesson 33 The Steam-Engine
Lesson 34 Vegetable Foods
Lesson 35 Vegetable Secretions—India-rubber and Gutta-Percha
Lesson 36 Radiation of Heat
Lesson 37 More about the Farinaceous Foods
Lesson 38 Vegetable Secretions—Camphor and Gums
Lesson 39 Teeth
Lesson 40 Radiators and Absorbers
Lesson 41 Leguminous Foods
Lesson 42 How Heat Affects the Absorption of Vapor by the Air
Lesson 43 Resin and Turpentine
Lesson 44 Teeth of Mammals
Lesson 45 The Formation of Dew and Hoar-Frost
Lesson 46 Fresh Vegetables and Fruit
Lesson 47 Tar and Pitch
Lesson 48 Heat, the Cause of Motion in the Air
Lesson 49 Ventilation
Lesson 50 Winds
Lesson 51 Sources of Clothing
Lesson 52 Currents
Lesson 53 Cotton
Lesson 54 Coverings of Mammals—Furs
Lesson 55 Specific Heat
Lesson 56 The Cotton Manufacture
Lesson 57 The Effects of the Differences in Specific Heat
Lesson 58 Coverings Of Mammals—Wool
Lesson 59 Wool—Its Manufacture
返回总目录
 Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time.
—James Russell Lowell
 Lesson 01
Matter
Our young scientists are still eagerly pressing onward in their search for knowledge, under the
careful and sympathetic guidance of their teacher, Mr. Wilson. Step by step they have been advancing
through the various stages, beginning with simple facts, either such as were evident to their own
observation, or such as could be shown by simple experiment. In this way they have acquired a rich
store of scientific facts, and they are now, in the higher stages, learning to offer simple explanations of
these facts, and to familiarize themselves with the proper names for the various objects and
operations with which they come in contact.
Last year's course made this very evident, and it will become more so as they proceed to higher
subjects. Both boys have still a scientific institute as their goal, where they mean to make their mark
some day.
"I remember," said Mr. Wilson, "I began last year's course by introducing a new word—matter.
We have since then used this word, rather than speak of a substance, an article, or a body, I will now
try and help you to form a clearer conception of what we mean by it. This brick lying on the table
shall give us the start.
"Without taking it up, I want you to tell me all you can about it. You will, of course, begin by
describing its shape, size, and color. But how did you gain this information? Your eyes told you. You
learned it through the sense of sight.
"Now take the brick in your hands and shut your eyes, and you will learn something more,
through another sense—the sense of touch. This tells you that the body is hard and rough. A blind man
could tell that.
"But let us leave the brick and turn our attention to these two bottles. Each contains a clear
liquid. The liquids are totally unlike each other, but neither of the above senses can tell us this. How
can we find out? Here we have to rely upon another sense—the sense of smell—to distinguish the two
bodies; this tells us that one is water, the other paraffin oil.
"We might take a piece of salt and a piece of sugar, cut to exactly the same size and shape, and it
would be impossible to tell one from the other, by either of the senses to which we have already
appealed. We put our tongue to each, and we learn at once what we want to know, but this time
through another sense—the sense of taste.
"I think I have shown you enough to make the rest of my explanation simple. Everything around
us which appeals to us in this way, through one or more of our senses, we call matter.
"By the name matter, then, we mean every substance that exists, every substance about which we
may learn through our senses. The air around us is matter. We know that it has an existence, for
although we can neither see, smell, nor taste it, we can hear it when it is in motion, and we can feel it
as it rushes through our mouth and nostrils in the act of breathing.
 "Suppose I now show you a little experiment. I have here a small piece of gun-cotton, which is a
highly explosive substance. I place it in the palm of my hand and apply a lighted taper. The result is a
sudden flash; the substance burns so rapidly that every particle of it disappears, and yet the hand
scarcely feels the heat.
"What has become of the gun-cotton? It has not been destroyed; it has simply been converted into
another form, and has passed away in the air as an invisible gas."
"That reminds me, sir," said Fred, "of what we learned about the burning of the candle, the coal-
gas, and the lump of coal. These things are not destroyed in the burning. They are simply changed into
other forms."
"Yes, my lad, you are quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "The candle contains matter in the form of
tallow and wick. These substances, as well as the coal, are formed of hydrogen and carbon. The
burning simply uses them to form new substances. It uses the hydrogen to form water-vapor, and the
carbon to form carbonic acid gas, both these new substances being at once absorbed into the air
around.
"Nothing is destroyed. The coal and the tallow are changed into new forms. That is all.
"What happens when we dissolve substances in water? These substances disappear; they seem
to be destroyed. But we know they are there still, for we can recover them easily by evaporating the
water.
"It is just so with every kind of matter that exists. We may grind it into powder, dissolve it in
water, and even burn it, but we cannot get rid of it—we cannot destroy it. We merely change its form;
for matter is indestructible."
 Lesson 02
Man and Brute
Step by step our lessons have made us familiar, in some degree, with the build of the human
body, and, through it, with the general structure of the various members of the brute creation. We are
now in a position to carry our investigations a little farther, taking still the human body as the type,
and following up, as we meet with them, the various adaptations of it to suit the requirements of each
animal. Let us commence with the head, which, as you know, consists of two distinct parts—the skull
and the face.

The skull or cranium is formed of eight plates of bone, firmly joined together at their edges, so
as to make an oval box to lodge and protect the brain. There is a round hole in the base of this bony
box, through which the spinal cord passes into the canal provided for it, and on either side of this
aperture is a smooth bony projection, by which the skull rocks on the topmost vertebra of the spinal
column. These projections are termed condyles.
Turning next to the face, we find that it consists of no less than fourteen distinct bones, all of
them, except one—the lower jaw—firmly and immovably fixed to each other and the bones of the
skull. These fourteen bones provide five large cavities for lodging and protecting the sense organs of
sight, smell, and taste.
So far, the structure of man and of all mammals is on similar lines. But man stands immeasurably
above any of these creatures. "Endowed with an intellect capable of indefinite improvement, he
exhibits but little of that instinct which guides the operations of the lower animals. His knowledge is
the result of observation, and is matured by thought; his power of speech and the capability of writing
are faculties entirely his own, whereby he can communicate his ideas and transmit to posterity the
results of his experience. By no means highly gifted as relates to his bodily strength, his swiftness is
very far inferior to that of most animals of his size. Possessing neither strength of jaw nor canine
fangs, he is destitute of offensive weapons, and his body being not even clothed with hair, few
creatures are, in this respect, left so utterly defenseless, nay, in addition to these disadvantages, he is,
of all animals, the longest in acquiring even that strength which is necessary for the supply of his
simplest wants, and yet this very feebleness is to him an advantage, compelling him to have recourse
to that intelligence with which he has been so highly endowed. Absolutely dependent upon parental
care for his support, he must necessarily derive from that source the education of his intellect, as well
as of his physical powers, and hence is established an attachment as durable as it is sacred. The very
length of his pupilage necessarily gives birth to habits of family subordination, which ultimately lay
the foundation of all social order, and tend to multiply indefinitely the advantages derivable from that
mutual co-operation, whereby he has succeeded in subjecting or in repelling the attacks of inferior
animals—in clothing himself so as to defy the inclemencies even of the most rigorous climate, and in
spreading his race over the surface of the earth.
"Nevertheless, in reviewing the grand scene of nature, the supremacy of the human race seems to
be manifested in nothing more strikingly than in the privilege conferred upon mankind of studying the
Creator's works, and learning the great lessons they are so well calculated to teach.
"Of all the countless creatures that now throng the busy scene of life, or that successively have
faded from existence, not one has been permitted to inquire from whom or whence it received its
being. Man alone has been taught to recognize his Maker's hand, which formed all living things, each
in its separate sphere, and still upholds and guides the wondrous system He Himself created."

So then it is man's intellectual power which raises him to this lofty height, utterly
unapproachable by the rest of God's creatures. In man the brain-case is developed; in the lower
animals, on the contrary, the development is in the direction of the face, and not of the skull. The face
is always disproportionately large as compared with the skull.

That this is no mere chance accident may be readily seen by comparing the heads of a man, a
gorilla, and a horse. If a tape were passed round a person's head, so as to cross the eyebrows and
both ears, and the two ends were then tied at the nape of the neck, it would show roughly the
proportion between skull and face, and give some idea of the enormous brain capacity in man.
Turn from this to examine the heads of any of the lower animals, and the contrast is at once sharp
and striking. Even in the great apes, and they make the nearest approach to man, it is the head, quite as
much as the hand, that stamps them as a distinct creation.
Let us try to find the reason for this special development. The face is designed mainly as a
lodgment for the sense organs of sight, smell, and taste. These sense organs mean to the brute creation
the main part of their existence. The keenness of sight, smell, and also of hearing is as necessary to
the hunted as to the hunting animal—in the one case to give the signal of danger, in the other to guide
the hungry prowler to its prey. What then is more natural than that these sense organs and of course
their bony lodgments should be developed at the expense of the rest of the head? Length of face, for
instance, means a corresponding development of the nasal cavities, with greatly increased capacity
for the spread of the nerves of smell. In every animal that depends upon its sense of smell either for
its safety or its food, we find an elongated face.
Then next as regards the mouth. Feeding being the chief business of these creatures' lives, it is
quite natural to look for a special development of the organ of taste to guide them in the choice of
their food, and of the jaws and teeth to masticate it.
Moreover, with many of them, the mouth, jaws, and teeth are not merely feeding organs, but
weapons of attack and defense. In either case the animal depends upon them for its very existence.
The brain, such as it is, has no other duty than to act as overseer to these special organs; here we have
in a nutshell the reason why there is special development of the face at the expense of the skull or
brain-case.
Just one other thought, and that was the only reason for mentioning the condyles at the base of the
skull. Man walks erect. He is the only one of God's creatures to whom this attitude is natural. Is this
an accident? Let us see. The head rocks to and fro on these condyles, which fit into corresponding
hollows in the top of the Atlas vertebra. In no other animal do we find these condyles placed so far
forward as in man. If we examine the various types of animals from man downwards, we find the
condyles nearer and nearer to the back of the skull. The consequence is that the weight of the head
does not rest directly on the spine, as it does in man, but upon the muscles and ligaments which bind
the two together.
 Lesson 03
Conduction of Heat
"We have already learned something about heat and its effects on various bodies—solids,
liquids, and gases," said Mr. Wilson. "Our next business will be to inquire how heated bodies part
with their heat—that is, how heat passes from one portion of matter to another. I want you to come
and take the poker out of the fire, Fred. That's right. But why did you drop it? Hot, was it? How can
that be? The part that was in the fire is of course red-hot, but you held the handle, and that was out of
the fire. Let us see what it means. Hold one end of this copper wire in your hand, keeping the other
end in the flame of the Bunsen burner. Tell us what happens."
"The end that I hold in my hand is getting hot, sir."
"Yes, Fred, it is, and it will soon be so hot that you will be glad to drop it. The fact is, in both
cases the heat from the fire and the burner travels along the metal, from particle to particle, one
particle first getting hot itself and then heating the next, and so on, until it reaches the opposite end.
"I will now show you a very interesting little experiment. I have here a long strip of copper and
another of iron joined, end to end, by means of a rivet. I will fix them so that the joined part is in the
flame of the Bunsen burner, and on the opposite ends I will place a small piece of phosphorus. In a
short time the phosphorus on the copper takes fire, but that on the iron will remain much longer before
it ignites.

"Now, what do we learn from this? We learn that heat travels along the particles of both the
copper and the iron, but that it travels more rapidly along the former than the latter.
"Let us go a little farther. I will place this tin dish on the stand over the Bunsen burner, and put a
piece of bone and a thin strip of copper into the dish. Both are receiving the same amount of heat, and
it is only natural to expect that one will be exactly as hot as the other. Now, Fred, take them out of the
dish, the bone first, and then the copper. Tell us what you observe."
"The bone is not heated at all, sir, except in the very spot where it rested on the dish."
"Quite right, Fred. You can easily pick up the bone. Now take the piece of copper out. Ah! you
drop that quickly enough, don't you? The copper, you see, is not heated in one spot only, but the whole
of it is hot. The heat travels rapidly along the particles of copper, but very slowly indeed through the
bone.
"Copper and iron carry, or conduct, the heat from particle to particle of their substance. We say
that these metals are good conductors of heat, and that heat travels along them by conduction. The
bone conducts heat so slowly that we usually call it a non-conductor. There are some bodies which,
although not actually non-conductors, have such small conducting power that we arrange them in a
class by themselves as bad conductors.
"In classifying bodies according to their conducting power, we find that dense substances are
generally the best conductors; light, porous ones the worst.
"Conduction may be said to be confined to solid bodies, liquids and gases being very bad
conductors of heat.
"The metals are the best conductors of all, but they differ very much one from the other. They
stand thus in the order of their conducting power: silver, copper, gold, brass, tin, iron, lead, platinum,
and bismuth—silver being the best. Among the bad conductors are marble, stone, brick, glass,
earthenware, sealing-wax, leather, wood, linen, cotton, and straw.
"The non-conductors include bone, horn, feathers, down, fur, wool, flannel, silk, hair, cork,
india-rubber, and air."
 Lesson 04
Tea
"We can see, from all we have learned hitherto, how greatly we are indebted to the vegetable
world for our daily food," said Mr. Wilson. "Of course the greater part of all the articles that appear
on our tables at meal-time are in the form of eatables. I have here, however, a most important article
of daily consumption, although it is not for eating, but drinking. We take it as a beverage. It is tea. Tea
is so common an article in every home that it will not be necessary for me to describe it to you now.
We will rather confine our attention to its peculiar properties.
"Take a few grains of tea in your mouth, and taste them. They have a pleasant aroma and flavor,
and if you keep them long enough in your mouth you will notice a peculiar astringent taste.
"We will now put some of the tea into this cup, and pour on it some boiling water from the kettle.
The water at once begins to assume a straw-colored tint, then becomes brown, and the more tea there
is in the cup the darker the liquid will be. We say that we have made an infusion of tea. That is, the tea
has not merely colored the water, but the water has actually drawn from the tea its peculiar
properties.
"Take the cup of tea in your hand, and smell it, and you will at once detect the peculiar odor or
aroma which you noticed in the dry tea, except that it is stronger now as an infusion. You shall taste it
as soon as it is sufficiently cool, and you will notice that the infusion has the flavor of the dry tea as
well as its odor.
"Now that we no longer want the liquid infusion, we will pour it away, and see what we have
left in the cup. We have a heap of brown leaves. Each little grain of tea has uncurled and opened out,
and we now see that it was nothing but a leaf rolled up.
"I will select two or three of the most perfect of the leaves, and spread them out carefully on this
sheet of blotting-paper, so that we may examine them at our leisure.
"The leaves are lance-shaped—that is, long and somewhat oval, with sharp-pointed ends. They
vary in length; some leaves are two, some three, and others four inches long. They have serrated or
saw-like edges—that is, the edges of the leaves present something of the appearance of the edge of a
saw. I have pointed out to you similar leaves in our earlier lessons, among them being those of the
rosebush, basswood, appletree, and strawberry plant. These leaves are the product of an evergreen
plant, commonly known as the tea-tree, although it is scarcely correct to call it a tree. It is rather a
bush or a shrub. It is never allowed to grow more than three or four feet high. It bears long pointed
leaves, of a bright, deep green color, with jagged saw-like edges, and being an evergreen, the leaves
are the same color at all seasons of the year. It has beautiful white flowers, with yellow stamens, and
these are succeeded by the fruit, a kind of dry pod, containing three seeds.
 "The tea-plant is supposed by some to be a native of Bengal, but it first came to the notice of
Europeans in China and Japan, where it is not only extensively cultivated, but even grows wild
among the hills. It will not grow except in a warm climate, and it flourishes best on the hilly slopes,
provided the soil be rich and deep.
"The plants are usually placed in rows about five feet apart, so as to enable the pickers to walk
between them when the leaves are ready to be gathered. In its general appearance a tea-plantation is
said to bear some resemblance to a garden of gooseberry or currant bushes.
"Let us now leave the plant itself, while we consider the value of tea as a beverage. "We all
know what a refreshing effect a cup of tea has upon us when we are tired and weary. Indeed, nothing
seems to do us so much good, and yet no one has, hitherto, been able to prove satisfactorily the
precise action of tea on the body. It contains a volatile oil, which is supposed to act upon the nerves
with a soothing, quieting effect, while at the same time it stimulates their action and produces a
feeling of exhilaration, and, in addition to this, by assisting the work of respiration and perspiration, it
tends to cool the body. This, however, is only the case when tea is drunk in moderate quantities, for it
produces the opposite effect of sleeplessness if taken in large quantities.

"In making tea, it should never be boiled, because boiling carries off the volatile oil (its most
valuable constituent). The proper way is to first warm the teapot with a little hot water, then put in the
tea, the quantity depending upon the number of persons who require to take it, and then pour boiling
water on it.
"A cosey, made of some non-conducting materials, such as wool or feathers, will, by keeping the
heat in, help to draw the tea quickly. Even this may become injurious, however, if used carelessly.
The tea should never be allowed to stand a long time, for after a while it draws from the leaves a
peculiar substance called tannin, which is very injurious to the work of digestion. In these days of tea-
drinking, people should know that tea taken in excess, or badly prepared, becomes in its way as great
an evil as any other abused beverage."
 Lesson 05
Solids, Liquids, and Gases
"Suppose we begin our new lesson, boys," said Mr. Wilson, "with one or two experiments.
"I have here a piece of wash-leather. I will pour a small drop of mercury into it, and squeeze it
between my fingers and thumb. The squeezing, you see, breaks up the one drop of mercury into
thousands of very tiny drops, and forces them through the pores of the leather. I have purposely let
some of them fall on my coat-sleeve; you can see the little silvery balls shining out from the dark
cloth. Now I will pick up two or three of these tiny balls with my knife, and spread them over this
piece of black cloth, just as one spreads butter on bread. Come and find them now, Fred."
"I cannot see them now, sir."
"No, Fred, you cannot see them with your naked eye, but look for them through this magnifying
glass, and tell me what you see."
"There seem to be thousands of tiny drops; I could not see one of them before. But did they all
come from those two or three little balls, sir?"
"Yes, Fred, they did. But you have seen something of the same kind before."
"Oh, I remember, sir. You boiled a few drops of mercury in a test-tube. We saw it boiling, and
you told us that it was passing off as vapor, but we could not see it till we called in the help of the
magnifying glass. We then found, all round the cool upper part of the tube, an immense number of
silvery balls, which our eyes were not sharp enough to see, and you told us that each of these little
balls was made up of untold numbers of still smaller globules, so small as to be invisible even to the
most powerful microscope."
"That's right, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "And now what have we learned? We have learned that
mercury can be split up into extremely small particles, so small as to be absolutely invisible. It was
only after condensation had united millions of them into the form of little tiny balls that the magnifying
glass was able to detect them. This means, of course, to say that the mercury is made up of these tiny
particles, and what is true of mercury is true of every sort of matter. Matter of all kinds is made up of
extremely small particles, which are called molecules.
"This being the case, how do we account for the fact that matter is not all alike? Why should
there be solid, liquid, and gaseous bodies?"
"This is due to the force of cohesion, sir," said Will. "In all solid bodies the molecules are held
together by this force, so that each individual molecule has its own particular position, from which it
cannot be moved unless this force of cohesion be first overcome."
"Quite right, Will," said Mr. Wilson. "What this force of cohesion really is, we don't know; we
only give it this name because the word cohesion means the act of holding together. This we do know,
that if there were no such force, the molecules of all matter would fall asunder. Instead of solid
bodies, there would be nothing but impalpable powder, and in place of liquids, nothing but vapor.
"This force is not equally strong in all solids. We can break a piece of lead more easily than a
piece of steel, a brick more easily than a piece of marble. Cohesion is stronger in the steel and marble
than it is in the lead and brick respectively. In liquids the force of cohesion is slight as compared with
that in solids. The molecules have no fixed position, but are free to move about, and roll and tumble
one over another.
"In a solid the molecules are bound so firmly together that we are unable to move a single part of
it without moving the whole body, but in a liquid we can set in motion some of the particles, and
leave the remainder at rest. This freedom of movement among the molecules of a liquid explains why
it flows when unsupported.
"But let us notice next the manner in which different liquids flow. I will pour this water from one
tumbler into the other, and then I will do the same with some oil, molasses, and tar. Why should the
molasses, tar, and oil flow slowly as compared with the water? The force of cohesion is stronger in
them than in water; the particles take longer to separate. It is easier, for the same reason, to thrust
one's hand into a basin of water, than into a basin of molasses.
"In gases there is no force of cohesion, but rather a repelling force. The molecules of a gas are
constantly trying to separate farther and farther from each other. This explains why gases can always
be compressed into a smaller space than they once occupied."
 Lesson 06
Bones and Joints
We have already inquired into the nature of the head, and the various modifications in its
structure, which are met with in all mammals, from man downwards.
Let us now proceed to examine the rest of the bony skeleton.
Our earlier lessons have shown us that the most important part of that skeleton is the vertebral
column. It is the possession, or otherwise, of this backbone, with the rest of the internal framework,
which constitutes the first great line of separation into vertebrates and invertebrates.
Taking again the human skeleton as our starting-point, we find that the vertebral or spinal column
is made up of thirty-three separate bones or vertebras. There are seven vertebrae to form the neck;
twelve to form the back; five to form the loins; five to form the sacrum, and four at the lower
extremity. That is to say, the number of bones was originally thirty-three. The five vertebrae of the
sacrum are separate bones only in the child. They are united into one solid bone in adult age. In the
same way the four lowermost vertebrae, although separate bones in the child, become welded into
one in the adult.

Each vertebra consists of a thick solid part, which is called the body, and of processes or
projections, which serve to bind the whole chain of bones together. The body and these processes
enclose between them a hollow ring. When the vertebrae are in position the body of one rests on the
body of that below it, the rings are all one above the other so as to form a continuous canal, and the
processes too are all in line. The ends of the middle or spinous processes can be felt down the back.
In man, and in all mammals, the "body" of each vertebra is flat, and covered with a thick pad of
cartilage.
Let us now look at the vertebrae of the neck—cervical vertebrae, they are sometimes called.
There are seven of them. We cannot pass them by without a glance at the two topmost of these bones.
The first is the Atlas vertebra, so called because it holds or supports the head, as the fabled
Atlas of old was said to support the world. The smooth condyles at the base of the skull rock upon
corresponding hollows on the upper side of this bone. The nodding of the head is accomplished in
this way by a hinge joint.
But we must examine this Atlas vertebra further, and then we shall find that it differs from all the
rest, in having no body. In place of the body there is a hollow ring, and into this ring fits an upright
peg or projection from the second vertebra, which is called the Axis vertebra.

The turning of the head from side to side is brought about by the Atlas bone turning round on this
peg, as on a pivot, and carrying the head round with it.
It is a remarkable fact that in all mammals the number of the neck vertebrae is seven. The giraffe,
with its long craning neck, has seven vertebrae; elephant, with its very short neck, has seven; and the
whale, whose head seems to be joined directly to the body, without any neck at all, has also seven,
although they are not much thicker than a wafer.

Seeing that in the giraffe there are so few joints for such an enormous length of neck, it is easy to
understand why the movements of its head, so far from being graceful, are positively awkward and
ungainly. But how admirably the creature is fitted by this very neck for its habits and life. It browses
upon the tender young twigs and leaves of the trees, just as other animals do upon the grass at their
feet.
The elephant, too, seeks the same food, but we have only to compare the small head of the
giraffe with the ponderous head of the elephant, to see why he was not also provided with a long neck
for the purpose of reaching it. He tears off what he wants with his long trunk and conveys it to his
mouth, while the giraffe simply nibbles it where it grows upon the tree.
The pig and the mole have short thick necks. The one roots in the ground with its snout; the other
actually burrows in the earth. A long neck would be out of place in either animal.
The vertebrae of the back, or Dorsal vertebrae, as they are also called, are those that bear the
ribs. In man and the four-handed animals there are twelve of these vertebrae, and consequently twelve
pairs of ribs. Most mammals have more than twelve. The lion, for example, has thirteen, the giraffe
fourteen, the whale fifteen, and the elephant twenty. The four lowermost bones of the column in man
form a sort of rudimentary tail, man being a tail-less animal. In this respect the apes are like him, and
they, too, have only four of these vertebrae.

There is, however, considerable divergence here among the various orders of mammals. This
tail part of the column contains, in the giraffe, eighteen vertebrae, in the elephant twenty-seven, in the
lion twenty-six, and in the long-tailed monkey thirty-one.
 Lesson 07
Conductors and Non-Conductors
"I want you to think about that poker in the fire, and what it taught us," said Mr. Wilson.
"The heat travelled from one end of the poker to the other, sir," said Will. "One particle became
heated, and then passed on the heat to the next, and so on. This is the manner in which heat travels
through all solid bodies. We call it conduction."
"Yes, sir," said Fred, "but heat does not travel equally well through all solids. Some are good
conductors, some bad conductors, and some do not conduct or carry away heat at all. We call them
non-conductors."
"I am glad you have not forgotten your lesson, boys," said Mr. Wilson. "We will now have
another little experiment. I have here a basin of ice, and in it are some pieces of metal, marble, stone,
brick, wood, cork, leather, and wool. You shall take them out and hold them in your hands, one by
one. I want you to remember that, as they all come out of the ice, they must all be at the same
temperature—the temperature of the ice. If we place the thermometer in the ice, and against each of
them in succession, it will in every case register 32°F. Now, as you remove them from the basin, you
shall tell me what you observe."
"The piece of metal feels intensely cold, sir; the marble and stone don't seem to be nearly so
cold as the metal."
"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson. "Now try the other things."
"The brick and the wood are not so cold to handle as the stone was," said Fred, "and the leather
and wool feel almost warm in comparison."
"Right again, boys," said Mr. Wilson. "Now let us see what all this means. In the first place we
must remember that every one of these bodies is colder than the hand, and they all rob the hand of
some of its heat. The metal, however, is the best conductor, and takes away the greatest amount of heat
from the hand, the other substances taking less and less in proportion to their lower conducting power.
"The great thing to remember is that the hand feels the sensation of cold in proportion to the
amount of heat abstracted from it.
"We will next place the same things in a basin of hot water from the kettle, and proceed in a
similar way.
"The metal now feels hotter than the other substances; the leather, cork, and wool convey the
least heat.
"The explanation in this case as in that above clearly depends upon the difference in the
conducting powers of the different bodies. It was the knowledge of the superior conducting power of
metals that enabled Sir Humphry Davy to construct his safety lamp. You remember, of course, that, in
our early lessons on the coal-mine, we first learned to know the use of the Davy lamp, and in our later
lessons on coal-gas I took you further, and showed you something of the construction of the lamp itself
in relation to the fire-damp in the mine. Our lesson on the conduction of heat will now help you to
grasp fully the whole principle of the lamp.
 "The flame is enclosed in a covering of gauze made of metal wire, and the lamp owes its
usefulness entirely to the high conducting power of this metal wire. The explosive gases enter into the
lamp through the gauze, and burn there, but the flame, instead of passing outside, is dissipated or
conducted away by the wire.
"Stone, as we have seen, is a better conductor than brick or wood. Hence a stone house (unless
the walls are very thick) is colder in winter and hotter in summer than one built of brick or wood.
"Ice-houses (or pits) for storing ice are built of brick and thatched with straw, because the low
conducting power of brick and straw prevents the warmer air around from acting on the ice. In the hot
summer weather, too, the ice is wrapped in blankets and covered with sawdust.
"Fire-bricks are much used for lining the backs of stoves, because they are very bad conductors,
and they prevent the heat from escaping backwards into the chimney.
"Metal tea-pots, coffee-pots, kettles, and other vessels for cooking and boiling purposes usually
have their handles made of bone, horn, wood, or some other non-conducting substance, and, if not, we
are always careful to make a thick pad of flannel, cloth, or paper, to serve the purpose.
"In the same way, all tools which have to be made hot, such as soldering and branding irons, are
provided with wooden handles.
"We keep our tea hot on the table without any fire, by merely covering the teapot with a cosey
made of wool or down. Both of these substances have very low conducting powers—indeed they are
classed as non-conductors.
"This will explain why in winter we clothe ourselves in fur cloaks, flannel, and other woollen
garments. These things are not warm in themselves; they merely act as non-conductors, and prevent
the heat from passing away out of our bodies.
"In the heat of summer, when we wish to be cool, we exchange our furs and flannels for light,
thinner materials, of higher conducting power, and these allow some of the heat of the body to escape
into the air."
 Lesson 08
Tea—Its Cultivation and Preparation
The tea-plant is raised from seeds, which are sown in March, after having been stored,
throughout the previous winter, in moist earth. They are planted out in their growing quarters (usually
on the dry, sunny slope of a hill) when they are one year old. No leaves are plucked for the first three
years, but the plants are carefully pruned back, so as to keep them down to a height of three or four
feet. The first cropping takes place in the fourth year, and after this there are three crops of leaves
every year, as long as the tree lives.
Two very interesting points in connection with the leaves must be noticed in passing. The first is
that, when freshly picked, they have neither the odor nor the flavor with which we are familiar in the
prepared article. These are developed by the after treatment. The second is that different qualities of
tea are produced from precisely the same leaves, by varying the mode of preparation. The picking of
the leaves requires much care. Each leaf has to be picked separately with the finger and thumb, and in
such a way as neither to bruise the leaf itself, nor injure the tender young shoots of the plant.
The first picking takes place in April. This crop consists of the young, tender leaves of spring,
with the first bloom on them. They produce the finest and most delicately flavored teas of the year.
The second crop follows in about a month, the leaves being larger, less bright in color, and not so rich
in flavor. The third crop is picked when the leaves have reached their full size. They are then more
bitter and woody, and have very little of the delicate aroma and flavor of the earlier crops.
These last two crops furnish most of the tea sent out of China, for the Chinese rarely part with
any of the first crop, preferring to keep it for themselves and their friends.
An acre of ground will grow on an average about 2000 plants, and the annual crop is from 250
to 300 lbs. of tea. Most of the picking of the first crop is done by women, but even children help in the
later pickings.

The first step in the preparation of the leaves is to expose them to the action of the sun and air for
two or three hours. For this purpose they are laid either on mats, or in wide shallow baskets, and
stirred every now and then. The object of this part of the process will be clearly seen by treating any
ordinary leaf in a similar way. The leaf, which when freshly picked was crisp and brittle to the touch,
becomes limp and flabby after this exposure. It could be easily rolled between the thumb and fingers
without crushing out any of the natural juices. This is the very thing necessary in the treatment of the
tea-leaves. When sufficiently dried, they are rolled loosely by the hands on a flat table, and then
thrown, a small quantity at a time, into an iron pan, over a charcoal fire, to complete the work of
drying. While in the pan they are kept constantly stirred to prevent scorching, and, when quite ready,
are swept quickly on to the table, where men, called twisters, complete the work of rolling, by
rubbing the leaves between the hands while they are still hot. In the finest and most delicate kinds of
tea, every leaf is rolled or twisted separately.

The final process is to throw the twisted or rolled leaves again into the pan over the charcoal
fire, and carefully roast them, so as to drive off every particle of moisture. The utmost care is
necessary, as before, to prevent scorching.
Nothing now remains but to sift and sort the tea, and pack it in chests lined with lead-foil for the
market.

It is important to remember here a point which has already been noticed; that is, that different
treatment produces different kinds of tea from precisely the same leaves.
In the preparation of green tea the leaves are dried and rolled immediately they are gathered.
The whole process of preparation, in fact, is rapid and simple.
For black tea the leaves are first thrown into a heap, and covered with matting for some time,
until the atmosphere begins to act upon them, and a sort of fermentation sets in. The fermentation
causes the green leaf to change color, and become dark—almost black, after which the work of
rolling is begun. Among the varieties of black tea are Pekoe, Souchong, Congou, and Bohea. The first
two are prepared from the earliest crop. A very costly variety of Pekoe, known in the language of the
country as the Tea of the Wells of the Dragon, is grown exclusively for the use of royalty, and is never
exported. The second or main gathering gives Congou, which forms the bulk of the better supply that
reaches us. Bohea is the name given to the latest gathered crop. It comprises all the coarser,
commoner, cheaper teas in the market.
Hyson, Gunpowder, and Imperial are the best known of the green teas. Of late years the tea-plant
has been introduced into India and Ceylon with great success, and we now receive immense
shipments every season from both these countries; while, as a natural consequence, the China tea-
trade is rapidly decreasing.
 Lesson 09
Food—Why We Eat
"The subject which is to engage our attention this morning," said Mr. Wilson, "is an important
one, because it comes home to our own every-day life. We are going to commence a series of lessons
on food, and I shall endeavour, not merely to fill your memory with facts, but to lead you, step by
step, to discover for yourselves such practical truths as will be of inestimable benefit to you in that
important but much abused business of life, the duty of eating and drinking,
"I have here an ordinary hen's egg. I will break it in this cup, as your mother does when she is
going to make a pudding or a custard. Look at the egg in the cup. There is a clear, viscid (sticky)
liquid, in the midst of which floats a round yellow ball. I have no doubt you are already aware that
we call the clear liquid the white of egg, and perhaps you may have heard its scientific name
albumen. The yellow ball is the yolk.
"For the present I want you to confine your attention to the yolk—the yellow ball. Notice the
little round spot in the yolk. This is the germ, or, as it is sometimes called, the embryo. If this egg had
been hatched, by keeping it warm for about three weeks, the little embryo would have become an
actual chicken; it would have had strength enough to break the shell and set itself free, and would then
have been able to run about and seek its own living.

"Now, how does it happen that a little speck like this can grow into a chicken? Let us find out.
"We will first remove the germ. This is the embryo, future chicken. What then is all the other
matter? All that we see now in the cup is simply a store of food, laid up within the egg-shell, for the
tiny germ to feed upon.
 "Day by day the little thing absorbs more and more of this food-store into itself, and with it
builds up its own body. Day by day, during those three weeks, the little body is growing bigger and
bigger, and the store of food in the shell is getting smaller and smaller. At the end of the three weeks
this food supply becomes exhausted. What is to happen next? The little creature is now fully formed,
and is, moreover, able to look after itself. It has not only built up a body, but it has also accumulated
vital energy, or strength, sufficient to enable it to set itself free from its shell. This it does by pecking
with its beak all round the inside of the shell until it breaks, and then out it comes.
"If we were to take it up immediately in our hands, and examine it, we should find the little body
to consist of flesh and bones, with feathers already growing on the skin—eyes, bill, feet, everything
perfectly formed. Its body, too, would feel warm, and it would show, by its struggles to get free, that
it had a certain amount of strength.
"Now all these things—the flesh, bones, and blood of its body, with the clothing of feathers, as
well as the warmth which you feel, and the strength which it shows— all come from the food which it
has taken while in the eggshell.
"The little chick, moreover, has to grow into a large fowl. How is this brought about? This too is
accomplished by the food which it eats, after it is able to run about and seek its own living.
"We might follow up the same development in the case of the mammal. The little kitten, the little
rabbit, the little baby all grow and become strong by the food— milk—which the mother supplies,
until they are able to eat other food. We see, therefore, that Nature, in each of these two foods—the
egg of the bird and the milk of the mammal—has supplied everything that is necessary for the life and
growth of the little creature. Let us try and find out what these different things are.
"The little chicken leaves its shell with every part of its body fully formed, and all these tissues
—flesh, bones, blood, feathers—it makes from the food which it finds in the shell. We call these parts
of its food proteins, or tissue-formers. The milk of the mammal must contain the same kinds of
material, for it has also to do the work of building up the little body. When the tiny bird leaves the
eggshell, and the young mammal is no longer dependent upon its mother for support, the food which
each seeks must continue to do the same work, in order that the natural development of its body may
go on.
"You remember, moreover, that we said the little chicken's body feels warm, and so does the
body of the kitten. Not only so; their bodies must be kept warm.
"In the yolk of the egg was stored up a quantity of oily, fatty matter. It was this which gave the
heat. Our early lessons, too, showed us that milk, in like manner, contains an oily, fatty matter, which
we call cream, and you know that we use this cream to make butter.
"The fatty matter, then, of the yolk of the egg and the fatty cream of the milk are both for the same
purpose—that of supplying the necessary heat to the little body. We call them heat-givers or fuel-food.
But why is heat necessary? It is the heat produced by the food that supplies all the vital force, and
power, and energy, of both body and mind.
"Think for a moment of a steam-engine ready for work, but powerless to move a wheel till force
is put into it. Whence comes this force? It comes from the fuel which is burnt in its furnace.
"So it is in the body. This heat-giving food is the fuel, and without fuel to burn, the fire would go
out, the body would become cold and powerless; it would die."
 Lesson 10
General Properties of Matter
"You all can tell me what we mean by the properties of a body" said Mr. Wilson. "Our lessons,
from the first, have been concerned in investigating the properties of all sorts of bodies. We have
found one body to be tough, another brittle; one transparent, another opaque; one soluble, another
insoluble; one rigid, another flexible. The toughness or the brittleness, the transparency or the opacity,
the solubility or the insolubility, the rigidness or the flexibility is in each case a property of some
particular body, but not of all bodies.
"We are now going to take this word property in a much wider sense, because it has been found,
after very careful investigation, that there are some properties which do not belong to particular
bodies only, but to every kind of matter.
"Such properties as those we have just named, we might call special properties, because they
belong only to special bodies. Those which we have next to consider, we shall call general
properties, because they are common to matter of every kind. There is no kind of matter to which they
do not belong, in a greater or less degree.
"These general properties of matter are extension, divisibility, weight, porosity, compressibility,
elasticity.
"Let us take first the property of extension.
"See: I will place my closed hand on the table—so. Now one of you shall come to the front, and,
without moving my hand, shall put his own in exactly the same position—not on top of it, not at the
side, but exactly in the same place. You cannot do it; of course not.
"Here are two large stones about the same size. Could you place one on the table, and, without
taking that away, put the other exactly where it stood? No, you cannot do it.
"The hand and the stone must occupy a certain amount of space or room, and what is true of them
is universally true. Every kind of matter—solid, liquid, or gas—must occupy a certain amount of
space or room.
"This little word room will convey to you the simplest idea, then, of what we mean by extension.
"Sometimes we consider this property of extension in one direction only, as when we measure
the length, the breadth, or the thickness of a body. Sometimes we have to consider the length and
breadth of a body combined. This too is extension—extension of surface. Sometimes, in addition to
the length and breadth, we have to consider the thickness. This again is extension—extension of space
or volume.
"I fill this basin with water to the brim. Watch what happens when I thrust my fist into it. The
water overflows. As soon as I remove my hand, the water falls in the basin, and we can see how
much was forced out. Let us fill the basin again, and instead of my hand, I will drop the stone in it.
The result is the same; some of the water overflows as before.
"Why was the water driven out each time? No doubt you will say that it was to make room for
the hand in the one case, and the stone in the other. So it was. The amount of water driven out would
have occupied exactly the room, or space, which the hand and the stone required respectively. The
water and the stone cannot occupy the same space, at the same time.
 "When I drive a nail into a piece of wood, the nail gets in only by thrusting aside the particles of
the wood. It would not be possible for the wood and the iron to occupy the same space at the same
time.
"What is true of these things is universally true of every kind of matter. No two bodies can
occupy the same space at the same time.
"Let us pass on now to the property of divisibility.
"Our lessons have shown us that matter of all kinds can be separated, or divided, into minute
particles by various means—sometimes by mechanical grinding, sometimes by dissolving, sometimes
by boiling and evaporating.
"I have here a test-tube filled with water, and I will drop into it a small piece of some powerful
dye. Even a piece of common stone-blue will answer the purpose as well as anything. I stir it well,
and soon the whole of the water is colored. More than this, the least drop I could remove from the
tube would retain the color. Imagine the test-tube to contain ten thousand such drops, and it is evident
that the piece of coloring matter must have been divided up into at least ten thousand particles. This is
what we mean by divisibility. It enables man to reduce all bodies to any required size. On the other
hand, it is this property that causes bodies to wear away; even the rocks wear away by reason of it,
and become particles of loose dust.
"Weight is another property which every kind of matter possesses. I think you can tell me what it
is that gives bodies weight."
"The force of gravity attracts all bodies towards the center of the earth, sir, in proportion to the
amount of matter which they contain," said Fred. "A drop of water poured from a glass falls down,
and not up, for the same reason. We know that bodies have weight, for we can feel the muscular
exertion of holding them in the hand, while gravity is attracting them downwards."
"Quite right, Fred," replied Mr. Wilson. "But gases too have weight. Can you tell me how we
learn this?"
"Yes, sir. You have only to take an air-tight, stoppered bottle, exhaust all the air from it by means
of the air-pump, and weigh it. Then, if you remove the stopper, allow the air to enter the bottle, and
weigh it again, the difference in weight will be the weight of the air. If your bottle held exactly 100
cubic inches, the air in it would weigh 31 grains."
"Right again, my lad. But if I had filled the bottle with hydrogen instead of air, the increase of
weight would have been only 2 grains. That is, 100 cubic inches of hydrogen weigh just 2 grains. But
this shows us that even hydrogen, the lightest of all bodies, has some weight."
 Lesson 11
Locomotion in Mammals
Man possesses two pairs of limbs, and the vast majority of the vertebrate animals are like him in
this respect. All mammals have both pairs, except the whale family, and in these the hinder pair are
entirely wanting.
The human arm consists of three parts—the upper arm, the forearm, and the hand. The
framework of the upper arm is a single long, hollow bone; in the forearm there are two bones.
The leg, in like manner, consists of three parts—the thigh, the lower leg, and the foot ; the thigh
containing one long, hollow bone, the lower leg two, as in the arm.
The first great purpose of limbs is to supply the means of locomotion, or moving about. In man
the lower limbs only are adapted for support and locomotion, as may be plainly seen by a comparison
of the hand with the foot. The hand, with its opposable thumb, is meant for prehension, or grasping
purposes.
Most mammals run and walk on the ground, but there are others that climb trees, others that
burrow in the earth, others that fly in the air, and others, again, that swim in the water.
Let us take these one by one, for their limbs must be specially adapted to their special mode of
life.

First among the climbing mammals are the four-handed family, all of whom spend their lives in
the trees. A glance at the skeleton of one of them will show the great similarity in its structure to that
of man. There are the same bones, arranged in the same way, except in the hand-feet. To such
creatures a foot like ours would be a hindrance in their tree-climbing. In most of the family the thumbs
of all four limbs are opposable like ours, and are thus admirably adapted for grasping, and clinging to
the branches of the trees. In some, however, the thumb is placed side by side with the fingers, and not
opposite to them. These individuals cannot use their hands for climbing, but make their way by
leaping from branch to branch. In all of them there is an unusual length of arm. The arms reach below
the knee.

The squirrel lives in the trees, and is a good climber, but he depends upon his long, sharp talons
in his climbing, and so also does the cat.
Chief among the burrowing animals is the mole, and we have already noticed the special
modification of the neck bones to fit him for his life. Let us look now at his limbs. Those broad,
shovel-like paws might seem to a careless observer out of all proportion to the size of the body. It is
the paw only that is enlarged; the limbs themselves are extremely short. There are the usual bones, but
they are short and thick, and built for strength. The paws themselves are thus close to the body and
turn outwards. They are his digging implements.

The next remarkable hands are those of the bats— the flying mammals. Suppose we examine the
skeleton of one of these. The upper arm and the fore-arm are seen to consist of the usual bones, except
that they are considerably lengthened, as compared with the lower limbs. It is the hand itself,
however, that shows the most wonderful development. The bones of the fingers are lengthened out, till
they are longer than any other bones in the body—longer than the body itself. These bones form the
framework of a sort of wing. Between the fingers themselves, up to the very finger-nails, a thin skin
or web is stretched to form the wing. This is the creature's means of locomotion in the element in
which it is meant to live and find its prey.
 Lesson 12
Boiling
"You explained in one of our lessons, sir," said Fred, "the manner in which heat is carried
through certain bodies by conduction, and you told us that this mode of conveying heat is confined to
solids, liquids being very bad conductors of heat. But liquids get hot as well as solids. Will you
explain to us how the heat travels in these bodies?"
"Yes, boys," said Mr. Wilson, "I will try to make this quite clear to you. But in the first place I
want you to think of the one great distinction between solid bodies and liquids."
"In solids the molecules or particles have a certain fixed position with respect to each other, sir,
and that position never alters, but in liquids the molecules are free to move. Cohesion is strong in
solids, but weak in liquids."
"Quite right," said Mr. Wilson, "and this will help you to remember that, when a solid body is
heated by conduction, the heat affects it, molecule by molecule, each one transmitting to the next the
heat which it has itself received, and so on. The great thing to keep in mind is that the molecules
themselves do not move, or change their position in any way. After this little retrospect into our past
work, we shall now be prepared to inquire into the mode by which liquids become heated.
"Suppose we begin with a little experiment. We will place a piece of ice in the bottom of this
large test-tube, with something forced down upon it to keep it there. This coil of wire will do as well
as anything. As soon as I fill the tube with water, you will see the necessity for the coil of wire. The
ice is lighter than the water, and would rise to the surface if it were not held down.

"I am now going to fix the tube obliquely over the flame of the Bunsen burner, in such a position
as to heat only the upper part of it. In a short time the water will begin to rise in temperature. The
thermometer will prove this, if we place it in the liquid. This rise in temperature continues until the
water actually boils. We can see that the water in the upper part of the tube is in a state of ebullition,
and steam-vapor is rising from it. If we test it now with the thermometer, that instrument will register
212°F.
"But what do we see in the bottom of the tube? The ice remains in it unmelted. That part of the
tube, and the water in it, are as cold as they were at first. It would, in fact, take hours before the heat
could make any sensible difference in the water below the flame.
"The heat has readily passed upwards, but it cannot descend. Let us now remove the tube, and
place over the flame, in the same oblique position, this strip of metal. As before, we will allow the
flame to play only on the upper part of the metal. Your sense of touch will be sufficient to tell you that
the lower end is gradually being heated, as well as the upper part, and in a short time even that end
would be too hot for you to handle.
"How has the heat been carried downwards through the metal?"

"The heat has been carried by conduction, sir," said Will, "and, now I remember, it does not
matter whether the poker slants upwards, or downwards, or rests horizontally in the fire. The heat
always travels to the other end."
"That's a very thoughtful answer, my lad," said Mr. Wilson. "Conduction acts downwards as
well as upwards, horizontally or obliquely as well as vertically. It is quite unaffected by the position
of the body through which it acts.
"This proves, therefore, that the heat did not travel through the water by conduction. Had the heat
been conducted through the water, the lower part of the liquid would have become as hot as the upper
—the ice would have quickly melted.
"We will now replace the tube in the stand, but direct the flame this time on the lower part of it.

"Now notice the result. The water is rapidly heated, the ice melts and disappears, and in a few
minutes the whole of the liquid in the tube is seen to boil. The water has been uniformly heated,
because the heat has travelled upwards from bottom to top. We have boiled the water.
"We will take an early opportunity of investigating more closely the mode by which heat travels
in liquids. We have at present been merely leading up to this interesting subject."
 Lesson 13
Coffee

Coffee stands next to tea as a favorite and refreshing hot drink. It has a pleasant aroma and flavor
of its own, and, when taken in moderation, is a most wholesome beverage. Its refreshing powers are
best felt when one is weary and drowsy with sleep. It then acts as a slight stimulant, rousing to fresh
activity, and overcoming the desire to sleep, as if by magic.
Like tea, the beverage is an infusion. It is made by pouring boiling water on the reddish-brown
powdered coffee supplied by the grocer. The powder itself is obtained by grinding coffee-berries in a
mill. These coffee-berries are found, on examination, to resemble small, oval beans, or kernels. They
are of a darkbrown color, hard and somewhat brittle, for they break easily, and they have the same
peculiar aroma and flavor as the powder and the prepared beverage itself. They are the fruit of a
pretty evergreen tree which grows in the tropics.
The tree very much resembles the laurel, and, like it, has oblong, pointed leaves, of a bright,
deep, glossy green. Being an evergreen, it keeps this bright, glossy foliage all through the year. In its
natural or wild state it grows from 15 to 20 feet high, but under cultivation it is kept well cut, and is
rarely allowed to exceed 8 feet in height.
 It bears pretty white and rose-tinted flowers, not unlike those of the jessamine, which cluster in
profusion round the branches, especially between the joints of the young twigs. Most of the flowers
burst out at one time, and so thick and close are they, that the tree appears as though covered with
snow, while the air for a considerable distance around is laden with their delicious fragrance.
When the flower falls off, which it does as rapidly as it comes, it leaves the fruit—a small, dark-
red berry, not unlike a cherry. It consists of a soft, pulpy, or fleshy part outside, with two hard, oval
bodies or kernels in the centre. These kernels are the coffee-berries which we use.
If we examine some specimens of the berries, we find that one side is rounded or convex, the
other flat. In the fruit itself the two flat sides lie together, and each kernel is enclosed separately in a
tough membrane or skin.
The coffee tree is a native of Abyssinia, where it may still be seen growing wild. As far back as
the year 1454 it was introduced into Arabia, and it is now cultivated in nearly all the tropical
countries of the world. It is grown most extensively in Brazil and in the East and West Indies.
The culture of the coffee tree is very simple, and, as a rule, it will flourish in high lands, which
are unsuited to most other crops. It is a curious fact that plants grown in low damp situations give a
greater yield, but the berries are of inferior quality; while those grown in hilly districts produce less,
but the quality is better.
The trees do not begin to yield till they are two years old, and, as a rule, the crop is only a
moderate one for the next two or three years. After this, however, they continue to bear for about
eighteen or twenty years. Two pounds of berries is a good average yield for one tree annually.
As the berries ripen, the outer skin begins to shrivel up, and it is then time to gather them. In
Arabia the berries are not plucked, but shaken from the tree. Of course only the ripe ones fall, and as
they fall they are caught on cloths spread on the ground below. They are then laid in the sun and dried,
after which they are placed in a trough, and made to pass between large revolving rollers. The
pressure of the rollers breaks the husk into small pieces, which are winnowed away, and the berries,
after being once more exposed to the drying action of the sun, are packed for exportation.
There are several, almost distinct varieties of the coffee-berry. The Arabian product is smaller
than the rest, and more round than oval in shape. Its color, too (a sort of dark yellow), is peculiarly its
own. The East Indian variety is larger than these, and also of a light color. The Brazil berries are the
largest of all, and their color is a sort of greenish-gray.
It will be well at this point to carry our minds back for a moment to our lesson on tea. In it we
learned that the raw leaves of the tea-plant possess neither aroma nor flavor, and that these properties
are brought out by the roasting process.
 It is just so with the coffee-berries. The raw berries have none of the fragrant odor and peculiar
flavor with which we are familiar in coffee. These are only acquired after roasting.
The roasting process is a very delicate one, as the flavor and fragrance of the coffee depend
wholly upon the care with which it is done. The berries are placed in a close iron cylinder, something
like a barrel, which is fixed over a slow gentle fire, in such a way as to enable it to revolve
constantly on a sort of pivot, the continual turning of the cylinder bringing all the berries in succession
under the influence of the heat.
 Lesson 14
Constituents of the Body
"We are going to take another step this morning," began Mr. Wilson, "in our investigations into
the subject of food. The little chick and the young mammal of our former lesson showed us clearly
that, from the first, the living body requires to be continually built up with food, if it is to grow in size
and strength. Now, as the food is the actual material with which this building-work is done, it
necessarily follows that it must contain the very essentials which form the substance of the body
itself. For example, just as bricks would be altogether out of place for enlarging or repairing a steam-
engine built of iron and steel, and no other material but iron and steel would be suitable for the work,
so it is in the living body. Its substance can be built up only with the same kind of material as that of
which it is itself composed.
"Before, therefore, we can discuss the suitability of anything as an article of food, we must learn
something of the material of which the body itself is made.
"Suppose we begin with the flesh. Think of a piece of lean flesh—a joint of beef in the butcher's
shop. It looks very solid as it hangs there, but if we were to place it over a fire, we should see it
begin to give off vapor, and it would continue to do so until it had lost 77 per cent of its weight. That
is to say, a piece of beef weighing 100 lbs. would weigh only 23 lbs. when it had been perfectly
dried. We know that the vapor which it gives off takes nothing with it. It is merely water in the
gaseous form. Hence we learn that this solid lump of beef weighing 100 lbs. contained no less than 77
lbs. of water.
"The 23 lbs. of solid matter left behind are mainly a substance known in the scientific world as
myosin. This myosin consists essentially of albumen, the very substance we found in the hen's egg,
and it is the chief solid constituent of all flesh. It forms the muscular parts (i.e. the flesh) in our own
bodies, as well as in the bodies of other animals.
"Let us next turn to the bones, and see what we can learn about their composition. I have here a
bone that has been lying for the last day or two in this dish of dilute muriatic acid. You will perhaps
know the acid better under its more common name—spirits of salt. We will remove the bone from the
acid, dry it, and examine it. The first thing to notice is that, while it retains its form, it has lost the
hard, firm, rigid nature usual in bone, and is now quite flexible. We may bend it or twist it as we
please, and we can cut it easily with a knife. The acid has acted on the bone by dissolving out from it
all the material that made it hard and rigid. That which remains is a substance known as ossein. If we
boiled this in water, it would yield a sort of glue which we call gelatine. This substance is not only
the chief constituent of bone, but also of skin, nails, hair, and feathers.
"These two substances, the myosin of the muscular flesh and the ossein of the bone, are the
materials which we spoke of in our last lesson, under the name of proteins, or tissue-formers. They
are the principal building materials of the body. Both of them were provided in the white of the egg
(albumen), and in the milk of the nursing mammal. It is important to remember that the particular
protein for building up bone substance will not make muscle or flesh, and vice versa.
"Now let us look at the structure of bone from another standpoint. Here is a bone, or rather all
that is left of a bone, similar to the one I took out of the acid. This has been burnt in the middle of the
fire. Take it in your hands and examine it. The first thing you notice is that although, like the other, it
retains its original form, it has lost weight; it is very light indeed. Try to bend it, and it at once breaks
up in your fingers, for it is very brittle.
"The fact is, all the glue-like ossein has been burned out of this bone in the fire, and that which
remains is earthy, mineral matter. The gristle-like ossein, which forms certain parts of the body of the
animal, is changed into actual bone by these earthy or mineral matters.
"Lastly, we will turn to the blood. A quantity of blood, dried over the fire in the same way as we
dried the flesh, would show a loss of 76 parts of water out of every 100 parts, thus leaving about 24
parts of solid matter. This solid matter consists chiefly of the two substances of which the flesh and
the bones are formed—myosin and ossein, together with a varying amount of the earthy or mineral
matter.
"It must be borne in mind that the blood has to build up and nourish the bony as well as the fleshy
structures of the body. This is why we find in the blood all the materials for the work."
 Lesson 15
General Properties of Matter
"One of our earliest lessons," said Mr. Wilson, "taught us the nature of porous bodies; we were
soon able to distinguish these bodies, either by actually seeing the pores themselves, as in sponge,
bread, charcoal, pumice-stone, and cane, or by watching their action in absorbing liquids, as in chalk,
lump-sugar, and dry clay. Our experiment with the chamois-leather and mercury proved the porosity
of the leather, for the little balls of mercury passed through its pores.

"Before we go any further I will show you a very pretty experiment with the air-pump. I have
here a piece of thick malacca cane, pointed at one end, and hollowed out into a little cup at the other. I
will place the cane in the open mouth of the receiver, with the pointed end downwards, taking care to
see that it fits air-tight. I will next pour a little mercury into the cup at the top, and then exhaust the air
from the receiver. As the receiver is exhausted, the pressure of the outer air drives the mercury
downwards through the pores of the cane, and a shower of tiny drops of the metal can be seen falling
from the lower end.

"In the cane and many other bodies the pores can be readily seen; they are then called sensible
pores. But in some bodies the pores are too small to be detected, even with the aid of the microscope.
And now, I suppose, you are wondering how we know that such bodies have pores at all. I will
explain it to you. A piece of metal, say copper or steel, does not look very porous. The most powerful
microscope could not detect any pores in it. But by placing it in a freezing mixture of salt and snow, it
can be made to shrink up or contract with the cold.
"What does this shrinking mean? It means that the molecules are driven closer together;
therefore, there must, under ordinary circumstances, be spaces between them. These spaces between
the molecules are the pores. Such pores are called physical pores. Every solid substance is more or
less porous.
"Liquids are porous too, although, in this case again, it is impossible to detect the pores. Can you
think of any of our old experiments which prove that liquids are porous?"
"Yes, sir," said Fred. "We filled a tumbler with water to the very brim, and then put in salt, a
spoonful at a time, stirring it all the while. The salt disappeared, but none of the water overflowed.
The salt found room by filling up the spaces or pores between the molecules of water."
"That's the very one I was thinking of, my lad," said Mr. Wilson, "and now I suppose you will
not be surprised that porosity is one of the general properties of matter—in other words, that all
matter is more or less porous.
"We are now in a position to investigate another of the general properties of matter—that of
compressibility.
"From what we have said it will be easy to understand that the more porous a body is, the more
compressible it must be. The most compressible bodies are gases, which are also the most porous,
because their molecules are at a considerable distance from one another. It is quite possible to
compress one hundred gallons of air into the hulk of a single gallon.
"Just as solids vary in porosity, so do they vary in compressibility. Some, such as wood, cork,
and sponge, are very compressible; others, such as glass, have very slight compressibility; pressure
will rather reduce them to powder than lessen their bulk.

"Look now at these coins. The impression on them proves the metal of which they are made to be
compressible, because the impression was produced by pressing the molecules closer together.
"Liquids are the least compressible of all bodies. It has been proved that 20,000 cubic inches of
water cannot be reduced, by the utmost pressure, to less bulk than 19,999 cubic inches. This slight
reduction in bulk explains why in your earlier lessons you have been taught that water is
incompressible, and to all practical purposes it is so.
"We will now turn our attention to the last of these general properties of matter—that of
elasticity.
"It is the power which bodies have of springing back to their former shape after they have been
interfered with. It is a common property of both solids, liquids, and gases.
"Some bodies, as we have seen, show their elasticity after being squeezed; among these are such
common objects as sponge, cork, and wool. Others, such as india-rubber, flannel, and cloth, require
to be pulled, to show their elasticity. Others, again, only show their elasticity when they are bent;
among these are cane, whalebone, and steel.
 "Take this air-balloon and throw it on the table. It springs upwards. The balloon, in striking the
table, became flattened, and the air in it was compressed. The air, however, is elastic, and
immediately after being compressed it sprang back to regain its original bulk. It was the springing
back of the air that caused the balloon to fly upwards.
"This elasticity of the air in the air-balloon is easy to understand, but I will now prove to you
that even such hard bodies as glass are elastic.
"I have smeared the smooth, polished surface of this slab of marble with ink. Watch what
happens when I drop this glass ball on it. It strikes the slab and rebounds. The ball touches the slab of
course at one spot only, but when we look at the ink on the slab, we find a large circular mark. The
fact is, the ball on striking the slab became flattened, and in that condition the mark was made. Its own
elasticity, however, caused it to spring back at once to its original shape, and the springing back gave
it the upward rebound."
 Lesson 16
Limbs and Locomotion
Our last investigation in this subject dealt only with the climbing, burrowing, and flying
mammals. We will now proceed to examine the rest of the great family as to their special modes of
locomotion, commencing with the swimmers.
Among the swimming mammals some, such as the seal and walrus, are fitted to live out of the
water as well as in it. We have already spoken of them as fin-walkers. Their four short limbs are
called fins, and must be regarded as swimming aids, rather than as a means of locomotion on land.
Slow, awkward, and ungainly on land, these creatures have marvellous power as swimmers. The
water is their natural home, and in the water they find their prey.

An examination of the skeleton will, in this case again, show that all the usual bones are present
in the limbs. Those of the upper and forearm are short and thick, but the bones of the fingers are long.
They form the framework of a large hand. The hand itself is webbed, and is the only part of the limb
that passes out of the body.
The hind limbs are usually turned backwards in a line with the body. They, too, end in broad
webbed flippers, which serve the purposes of a tail.

The whale family live entirely in the water; they are not adapted to live out of the water, for they
have no means of locomotion on land. Their front limbs resemble in every respect the fins of the other
swimming mammals, but they have no hind limbs. The body ends in a large tail-fin, which is the
actual propeller; the fin-limbs merely act the part of balancers to steady the huge carcase in the water.
 The running and walking mammals present remarkable divergences according to their several
habits and modes of life. Most of the carnivorous mammals are toe-walkers; the bear and badger
families alone plant the foot flat on the ground.

A careful examination of the skeleton of the cat will show that what appears at first sight to be
the animal's foot is merely the extremity of it, formed by the toes. Behind the toes we may trace the
limb to the next joint, but this joint is not a backward-turned knee, as it seems to be. It is the heel, the
other end of the foot; and above it, in each case, is the lower leg, with its two bones, just as in other
animals. These animals walk with a silent, springy tread on the tips of their toes only, the heels raised
well above the ground. No other mode of locomotion could be so suitable to animals of their
predatory nature.
 In the great majority of the rodents, or gnawing mammals, we find the hind limbs much longer
and stronger than the front. In most of them the run becomes a series of leaps. One of the rodents, the
beaver, is specially fitted, by means of his webbed feet, for water locomotion. He always lives in and
near the water.

The whole of the hoofed animals, including not only the horse, donkey, ox, sheep, and pig, but
also the rhinoceros, hippopotamus, zebra, camel, giraffe, and the entire deer and antelope family, are
toe-walkers. But the toes are encased in a hard horny hoof.

Taking the ruminants, or cud-chewers, first, we find the number of toes is reduced to four, and
not only so, the hinder pair of toes never touch the ground in walking. The animals walk on two toes
only, and each toe is encased in its own hoof, which is nothing more than a large nail, the whole
giving the appearance of a cloven hoof.
 In the horse family we find the phalanges still further consolidated into a single toe, which is
enclosed in its own hoof. That is to say, the horse's so-called foot is nothing but the extremity of its
single toe.
This, however, is far from being the only modification in the limbs of these hoofed animals. The
part immediately above the hoof is not the lower leg. It answers to the back of the hand and the instep
of the foot. Strange to say, however, instead of five bones, such as we and most other mammals have,
we find here only a single bone, and that is changed beyond all recognition. It is commonly called the
canon bone. In the foreleg the bones of the so-called knee are really the wrist bones, and in the hind
leg those of the backward-turned knee are the ankle bones.
 In the horse there is a small rudimentary bone behind the canon bone. This is commonly known
as the splint bone.
 The bones of the upper and lower arms and legs are very similar to those of other mammals.
Thus the whole of this arrangement in the limbs of the hoofed animals, while depriving them of
all grasping power, clearly increases the firmness, strength, and speed of the limbs.
 Lesson 17
Convection
"The other day I promised to explain to you how heat travels through liquids," said Mr. Wilson.
"I will do so now by means of a very pretty experiment.
"I will fill this large glass flask with water nearly to the top, and drop into the water a few
pieces of this blue substance: litmus. The flask shall be fixed upright over the flame of the Bunsen
burner, and we will watch the water boil.

"As the flame plays upon the bottom of the flask, we see an upward central current of water,
rendered distinctly visible by the blue coloring matter of the litmus. The current rises immediately
above the spot where the flame acts on the bottom of the flask, till it reaches the surface of the water.
Here it bends over in every direction, forming a great number of descending currents along the outer
wall of the flask. These continue to travel downwards until they reach the heated lowermost portion
of the flask, when they again ascend as before. Now let us see if we can discover what is actually
taking place. First, what is the great difference between the molecules of a liquid and those of a
solid?"
"The molecules of a liquid have little or no cohesion, sir," said Fred. "They are free to move
about in any direction, while those of a solid are fixed and stationary."
"Just so, my lad," replied Mr. Wilson. "The molecules of the water in the flask were at first
quiet, but the heat set them in motion in some way, so that the whole of the liquid was soon in rapid
circulation. The particles of water themselves moved upwards, outwards, and downwards. We want
to find out why this is the case.
"We have already learned something about the way in which water acts in cooling. The particles
on the surface, of course, are the first to feel the effect of the cooling process. How do they act?"
"They contract in cooling, sir, and become denser and heavier than the particles below them."
"Exactly. But what happens then?"
"These heavier particles sink, and force the lighter ones upwards towards the surface."
"Quite right, but why are they lighter?"
"They are lighter because they are warmer, sir. It was only the cooling that made those on the
surface contract, and so become dense and heavy."
"Good!" said Mr. Wilson. "Now let us go back to our flask. The flame heats some of the
particles near the bottom of the flask. The heating makes them expand, and become lighter than those
around and above them. There can be only one result: the heated, expanded particles must rise to the
surface. It was the stream of these rising particles that formed the central current, which the coloring
matter enabled us to see.
"But we have not done yet," he continued. "Think of this stream of heated particles rising through
the cold ones all round them. What must happen as they rise?"
"I suppose," replied Fred, "they give out their heat to the colder ones, as they pass upwards, and
if so, they themselves must be cold by the time they reach the surface."
"I am glad to see you reason so clearly, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "That is exactly what takes
place. But all this time more and more particles at the bottom of the flask have been heated by the
flame, and these continue to rise and force the others onward. Hence it happens that those which were
heated at the bottom, and have reached the surface, are now cooler and heavier than the others, and
being heavier, as well as being forced onwards, they move in the only direction possible—that is,
downwards along the sides of the vessel, there to meet again, at last, the heat of the flame, and rise
once more.
"Thus we see that in water the heat is carried or conveyed by the particles of water themselves.
The heated particles rise through the whole mass, and as they rise, give out their heat to the rest. This
method of carrying or conveying heat is called convection. As the temperature of the whole of the
liquid rises, the heat at the bottom converts the little particles of water into particles of steam. These
are lighter still than the heated particles of actual water; they are extremely light. They rise in little
balls or bubbles through the water.
"At first the water robs them continually of their heat, and they burst as they rise, but after a time,
as the water itself becomes hotter, the bubbles reach the surface without bursting. It is this bursting of
the steam-bubbles on the top which makes the commotion as water boils."
 Lesson 18
Cocoa
A cup of hot cocoa forms a very pleasant beverage, and is esteemed by most people as a luxury.
It differs from both tea and coffee in that it contains, in addition to its other properties, a considerable
amount of flesh-forming matter. It is really food as well as drink, and is therefore a most valuable
beverage.
If, again, we compare the three drinks—tea, coffee, and cocoa—we shall find that while the two
former are simple infusions, the latter is rather a sort of soup or gruel than an infusion.

We are now going to inquire into the nature and source of this third beverage-making material.
But before inquiring what it is, it will be well to say what it is not. Cocoa is not made from the
coconuts which we see in the fruiterers' shops. It has no connection with them or with the palm-trees
on which they grew. Its real name is cacao, and it is the produce, not of a palm, but of a tree very
much like the common cherry-tree. This tree is a native of America. It was found growing there by the
first European discoverers of the continent, four hundred years ago. The Indians called it cacao, and
they used it, as we do now, for the preparation of a refreshing beverage.
It is now grown extensively in the West Indies, and in Central and South America, and has lately
been introduced into some of the tropical countries of Asia and Africa.
The cacao-tree, in its natural or wild state in the forests of Demerara, grows to the height of 30
feet, but under cultivation the pruning-knife keeps it down to the size and shape of an ordinary cherry-
tree. It is an evergreen, the leaves being very similar to those of the cherry, except that they are
smooth and glossy, as is the general case with evergreens. The tree does not begin to bear till its sixth
year, but after that it is very prolific. The flowers, which are small, grow in thick clusters on the trunk
and main branches. The fruit is a kind of oblong pod, from 7 to 9 inches in length, and about 4 inches
in breadth. It is covered with a thick, outer rind, which takes various colors—yellow, red, purple—as
it ripens.
 The tree presents an unusual and interesting appearance, as it bears at the same time its
abundance of bright, glossy, green leaves; buds in all stages of growth; thick clusters of flowers; and
above all, fruit-pods, some yellow, some red, and some purple.
The pod is a hard, tough, woody case, smooth on the outside, oblong in form, and somewhat
pointed towards the end. It is divided lengthwise into five compartments or cells, which spring from a
central core. Such a pod we call a capsule. In each cell or compartment a number of seeds or nuts are
packed closely together round the central core, and embedded in a pinkish-white pulp. Each pod
usually contains from twenty to forty of these nuts. They are known as cocoa-beans; it is from them
that all preparations of cocoa are made.
The first process in preparing the newly-gathered nuts for the market is to induce them to
ferment. This is usually done by burying a heap of them in the damp earth for two or three days, and
then spreading them out in the sun. When this fermenting process has advanced far enough, the beans
are roasted in revolving metal cylinders, just as coffee is roasted. The roasted beans are next crushed,
and broken up into small pieces, commonly known as cocoa-nibs.
Some people prefer to use the cocoa-nibs themselves in the preparation of the beverage. They
make excellent cocoa, but they require long and careful boiling. They give out, during the boiling, a
very large amount of oil, which may be seen floating on the surface of the liquid when it is cooked.
Cocoa is more frequently used in the form of thin, flaky slices, or as a powder. The former is known
as flaked cocoa, the latter as soluble cocoa.
Flaked cocoa is prepared by grinding the nibs to a very fine powder, mixing the powder with
water into a paste, and rolling the paste into thin sheets, which are then allowed to dry and harden.
In the preparation of soluble cocoa, which is the commonest form in which the article is used,
the beans are first pressed, to extract all the oil, and then ground into a powder with a certain quantity
of starch. This kind of cocoa thickens when boiling water is poured on it. It is really the starch and
not the cocoa that thickens.
Chocolate is the highest form in which cocoa is prepared. The nuts for this purpose are treated
as if for ordinary soluble cocoa, except that they are mixed with a certain quantity of sugar and starch,
and the whole is then ground into a soft, smooth paste on hot metal tables. In this form, with, generally
speaking, a little flavoring matter added, it is moulded into sticks, cakes, balls, etc., which are sold at
the confectioners' shops, under the name of chocolate creams.
The name chocolate is our form of the Mexican word chocolatl, the name by which the prepared
cacao-bean was known to the natives of Mexico before Europeans visited them.
 Lesson 19
Kinds of Food
"Now that we are clear as to the constituents of which the body is formed, we can proceed to
examine the different kinds of food necessary to support the body. Suppose we go back once more to
the hen's egg," said Mr. Wilson. "I will break it, as before, in a cup. Notice the clear, sticky fluid in
the cup, and notice too the change that takes place in this fluid when I pour it into boiling water. It
changes to a white, opaque, solid substance. We call it white of egg. Its scientific name, albumen, is
given to it because of this white appearance; the Latin word albus means white.
"Albumen is a proteid or tissue-former. It was with this as its food that the little chicken built up
its tissues while in the egg-shell. Let us next turn our attention to milk, Nature's other food. I have
some new milk in this glass. I will pour a little of this rennet into it, so that you may observe the
change that takes place. It curdles at once into a white, opaque, solid substance—the curd. The
scientific name for this curd is casein. It is the proteid or tissue-forming constituent of milk. It is with
this substance that the young sucking mammal builds up its tissues.
"The food which every animal afterwards seeks for itself must contain proteid or tissue-forming
matter of some kind, because its body has to grow, and its tissues can only be formed from these
materials.
"Let us now go back once more to the little chick. Its body, you know, felt warm immediately it
left the egg-shell; the bodies of all mammals and all birds are warm, and must be kept warm. Do you
remember whence the chick obtained the heat which warmed its body?"
"Yes, sir," replied Fred. "You told us that in the yolk of the egg there is laid up a store of oily,
fatty matter. It is this fatty matter which supplies the heat. In like manner, there is in milk an oily, fatty
constituent. We can separate it from the milk, and when we have done so, we call it cream. The cream
in the milk of mammals serves exactly the same purpose as the oily matter in the yolk of the egg. It
supplies the little body with the necessary heat."
"Just so," said Mr. Wilson, "and I want you to understand clearly that, as soon as the little
creatures begin to seek their own living, they must combine with their other food something which
will serve the same purpose, in order that the bodily heat may be kept up. We ourselves, in like
manner, require heat-giving as well as tissue-forming food, because it is this which supplies all our
vital heat and energy."
"I remember, sir," said Fred, "you called both the oil of the yolk of egg and the cream of the milk
Nature's fuel-foods and you spoke about these fuel-foods burning. You don't really mean that they burn
in our bodies; do you, sir?"
"Yes, my lad," replied Mr. Wilson. "I mean that these fuel-foods burn in our bodies, as surely as
the coal burns in the grate, although there is no flame, no smoke, such as we usually find when things
burn. One of these days we will discuss this matter more fully. You must be content now to know,
first, that these things and others of a similar nature are called fuel-foods, because, like ordinary fuel,
they burn, and secondly, that they actually burn in our bodies, and supply heat and vital energy.
"Let us now enumerate some of these fuel-foods. First among them must stand all fat and oily
matter of every kind. This, of course, does not surprise you, because these substances are so much
like the fuel-food of the egg and milk. I have next some sugar in this spoon. I am going to hold the
spoon over the flame of the spirit-lamp. You notice that the sugar soon becomes heated and burns. It is
readily combustible and, in burning, gives out great heat.
"We take sugar as a food, because of this. It is a heat-giving or fuel-food. It burns in our bodies
and, like fat, is a source of heat and vital energy.
"You remember, no doubt, our early lessons on starch, and you can tell me what kinds of food
contain starch."
"Yes, sir," replied Fred. "Starch is found more or less in all vegetable foods. It is an important
part of the substance of the corn-grains, peas, beans, rice, potatoes, arrowroot, sago, and tapioca. I
remember how we used to separate the starch from flour by washing and kneading it in the muslin bag
under water."
"Quite right, Fred. But I wonder whether you remember what happens to these starchy parts of
our food when we take them into the mouth."
"Oh yes, sir," said Fred eagerly, for the whole thing flashed through his mind like lightning. "The
saliva in the mouth changes these starches into sugar. Now I see it all. Starch is another of the fuel-
foods. The saliva changes it into sugar, and this sugar burns in the body to provide the bodily heat.
"I remember, you mixed some starch into a paste with water, and made me hold some of it on my
tongue for a few minutes, till it began to taste quite sweet. It was the saliva from my tongue that
changed the starch into sugar."
"Excellent," replied Mr. Wilson, "and now just one thought more, Fred, and we will leave this
subject for the present. I am going to take your mind back to that bone which I soaked in the acid. Part
of the bone was left—the ossein—but all that had made it hard, firm, and rigid had been dissolved out
by the acid. The bones of the little bird, as it was forming in the egg-shell, and those also of the young
mammal for some time after its birth, consisted at first entirely of this one substance—ossein. There
was, however, stored up in the egg and in the milk, in addition to the substances we have mentioned, a
sufficient quantity of earthy matter in each case to change that ossein into actual bone. It could not
have become bone without this earthy matter. From the time that the young animals begin to seek their
own living, in their own way, Nature supplies the necessary amount of this earthy or mineral matter in
the very food they choose.
"If we burn a carrot, a cabbage, or a potato, we find that, although the greater part of its
substance is consumed in the burning, there is a residue which will not burn away. It forms an ash.
This ash is earthy or mineral matter, which the vegetables took up while they were growing in the
ground. Whenever, therefore, we and animals in general eat vegetable food, we take in more or less
earthy matter, which those vegetables themselves have absorbed from the soil.
"The very water we drink contains dissolved minerals; salt is a mineral; all our fresh vegetables
contain large supplies of mineral matter."
 Lesson 20
Measurement of Matter
We have already learned the full meaning of the term extension, as applied to matter, and we
know that it may be necessary to consider extension in one, two, or three directions—length, surface,
volume.
From very early times man must have begun to find it necessary, in dealing with matter of any
kind, to get a correct idea of its size. Primitive man no doubt made use of the hand, arm, and foot as
natural measures, and perhaps these were then convenient enough, for they were always ready when
they were wanted.
Boys nowadays in their games measure distances with the hand, or step them with the feet, and
this often leads to quarrelling, because boys' feet and hands are not all the same size, and such
measurements cannot be fair and exact.
As it is with boys, so has it always been with men. These rough-and-ready methods of measuring
with hand, foot, and arm must have often caused dispute; hence arose the necessity for more fixed and
definite standards of measurement. Among the commonest of these very early measures were the span,
the cubit, the foot, the inch, and the fathom.
The span was the distance which can be stretched between the thumb and the little finger.
The cubit is stated in ancient manuscripts to be the length of a man's arm from the elbow to the
extremity of the middle finger; it is usually called the natural or common cubit. It is worthy of note
that the cubit is the earliest measure of length we meet with, and was in common use throughout the
ancient world as the most convenient standard unit of length.
The foot was, of course, the length of a man's foot; the inch was the breadth of the thumb; and the
fathom was the length of the outstretched arms from the tips of the fingers.
These and similar inexact measurements were the standards that prevailed in the ancient world.
In course of time, and during the period of confusion between the ancient and modern world, the old
standards were lost, but the people, retaining the old names, began to give to each a certain definite
length, and to fix that length by law, in order to put an end to disputes.

For example, the average length of the span is 9 of our inches, and of the cubit
inches. When therefore we read in the Bible of the cubit and the span, we know that the Jews meant
by each of these measurements an actual, recognized, and fixed length. In like manner, when the
Greeks and Romans fixed upon the foot as their unit of measurement, they meant by it, not the length of
any man's foot, but a certain fixed length settled by law.
The Romans divided their foot into twelve equal parts, which they called unciae (twelfths), and
from this we derive our own word inch, the twelfth part of our foot.
The French afterwards adopted the foot as a unit. It is said that the measure was taken from the
foot of the famous Emperor of the West, Charles the Great, and was subsequently adopted as a fixed
definite unit of length.
The Saxons adopted the length of a man's gird or girdle as their unit measure of length, and
called it a gird or yard. Men, however, differ very much in their measurement round the waist, and
hence, to prevent mistakes and disputes, a certain length was fixed upon for this yard, and the true
measure was kept at the royal capital, Winchester.
In the time of Henry I of England another unit was taken, from the length of that king's arm, and
the old name, yard, was given to it. This yard has been the English standard of measure ever since
1135.
The measures in force in the United States were adapted from the English system determined in
1760. Our ancestors were colonists of England, and besides speaking the English language, they had
English laws, English customs, and English weights and measures. In this old English system the yard
was determined by the length of a pendulum swung under certain conditions in a vacuum at the level
of the sea. From this that which is now called the imperial yard was made, and from this yard, the
only authentic representative of the old standard, our measurements are derived. It is a long bronze
bar, one inch in thickness, with a plug of gold let in near each end. Through the center of each gold
plug a fine cross-line is cut; the distance between the two fine cross-lines is the true yard. The bar is
always to be measured at one temperature, 62℉.
From the yard, as the standard unit, are formed the various multiples and sub-multiples, which
give us our complete measure of length.
 Lesson 21
The Skin
In all mammals, indeed, in all warm-blooded animals, the skin has practically the same structure
and the same functions. It will be well, therefore, to consider now the structure of our own skin, as
typical of the rest, especially as it will lead to some very practical results, so far as we ourselves are
concerned. We can then proceed to examine the variety of coverings with which Nature clothes her
creatures to suit the varying conditions of their lives and habits.
The skin, although merely a thin covering for the body, is in reality a very complex organ, both in
its structure and functions. The anatomist can easily separate it into two distinct layers or skins, one
underlying the other.
The outermost or top skin is called the cuticle. It is a thin, horny, almost transparent layer, having
neither blood-vessels nor nerves. It has, therefore, no sensibility to pain, and does not bleed if cut. It
forms a protection to the more sensitive layer below. You may run a needle through the skin on the
palm of the hand without making it bleed, or causing pain, because, in doing so, you pierce this outer
layer only, in which there are neither blood-vessels nor nerves.
The true skin lies below the cuticle, and is known as the cutis or dermis. As the cuticle lies on
the dermis, it sometimes gets the name epidermis—epidermis meaning simply on the dermis.
The true skin is a closely interwoven mass of fibrous tissue, crossed and re-crossed with blood-
vessels and nerves. If, instead of running the needle through the epidermis, we prick the skin with it,
we draw blood, and at the same time cause a little sharp twinge of pain. This tells us, first, that the
blood-vessels form so close a network everywhere through the true skin, that it is impossible to prick
it without piercing some of them, and causing blood to flow; and secondly, that the nerve-fibers are as
abundantly distributed as the blood-vessels, or we should not feel pain from the prick of the needle.
The two layers of the skin lie naturally close to each other, so that it is impossible to make a fold
of the skin without taking up both. When, however, we scald or burn the skin, and a blister is formed,
it is the cuticle or epidermis only that rises. The irritation of the burn causes a watery fluid to exude
from the under surface of the cuticle. This fluid, not being able to escape, collects there, and forces
asunder and separates the cuticle from the true skin below, and so a blister is formed.
We have thus far regarded the skin as merely a double protecting coat for the body. Now let us
look at it from another point of view. What happens to our skin when we have been undergoing any
violent exertion, or when we sit for some time in a very hot room? We find it covered with round
drops of liquid. This liquid we call sweat or perspiration. It oozes out from the skin. Let us ascertain
what it is, and how and why it is thrown off by the skin in this way.
 If a piece of the skin from any part of the body were examined under a microscope, it would be
found to be perforated with a great number of tiny holes. These holes are the pores of the skin. In the
palm of the hand there are about 2500 on every square inch of the skin; and there are from three to six
millions of them on the entire surface of the body.
The pores are the openings of little tubes which extend inwards from the surface. They are about
a quarter of an inch long, and the inner extremity is coiled up into a sort of ball. We call them the
perspiration or sweat glands.
By the term gland we mean an organ whose business it is to be constantly separating or taking
away certain fluids from the blood, some to be thrown off from the system as injurious, others to be
used in the work of the body.
Our lessons on digestion showed you certain little glands in the mouth and under the tongue,
whose duty it is to separate the fluid, called saliva, which is so necessary in the work of masticating
the food.
The sweat, which these sweat-glands pour out over the surface of the skin, is a poisonous fluid,
which must be thrown off from the system if the body is to be kept in health. We must take an early
opportunity of learning how this is done.
 Lesson 22
The Boiling Point of Liquids
"Let us try and learn something more about the heating of liquids this morning," said Mr. Wilson.
"We will begin, as before, with the simple experiment of boiling some water in this flask over the
Bunsen burner. I will stand the thermometer in the flask, and we will watch it gradually rise, as the
water increases in heat.

"You will notice that, when ebullition sets in, the thermometer registers 212℉.
"Instead of taking the flask away as soon as the water boils, we will let it remain in the flame;
that is to say, we will continue to add more heat to the water. What does the thermometer say now,
Fred?"
"It still registers 212°, sir," replied Fred. "The water is still boiling, but it does not seem to get
any hotter."
"That is so, my boy," said Mr. Wilson. "The boiling water would remain at 212°; it would never
rise higher than that.
"I will now hold another thermometer, not in the boiling water, but in the steam which rises from
it. What do we see? The steam, too, registers 212℉.; and it cannot become hotter than this. The
thermometer would not rise higher, however long it might be held in the steam.
"We will now try another liquid—alcohol or spirits of wine, in place of water. As before, we
will put the thermometer in the flask to mark the gradual rise in temperature. The mercury rises in the
tube till it reaches about 172℉., and at that point the liquid begins to boil, and pass away as vapor.
"No further rise in temperature will take place, and all the time the thermometer continues to
register 172°, the alcohol will boil and pass off in invisible vapor.
"Common ether will boil and pass away as vapor at about 98° Fahr.; in other words, the heat of
the sun on an ordinary summer's day is sufficient to boil ether.
"I have here some strong brine; let us boil that in the flask now, with the thermometer, as before,
to mark the rise in temperature. Watch carefully till you see the liquid boil. Why, what is the matter?
The thermometer registers 212°, but the brine is not boiling. See, the mercury is still rising, and yet
there is no ebullition. The brine will not boil till the thermometer registers 230℉.
"Spirits of turpentine must rise to nearly 270℉. before boiling sets in; mercury does not boil
below 660℉.
"The point at which various liquids boil is called their boiling-point. Thus the boiling-point of
water is 212℉.; of alcohol 172°; of ether 98°; of brine 230°; of spirits of turpentine 270°; and of
mercury 660℉.

"I think now it is time for us to have another experiment. I will place this flask, half-filled with
water, over the flame, and let it boil, as before. As the water boils, the steam which rises from it will
fill the rest of the flask, forcing out the air to take its place. You can see by the violent commotion that
the water is boiling, and remember that now the rest of the flask above the water contains, not air, but
steam. While things are in this condition I will remove the flame, cork the flask securely, and invert it.
The agitation in the water will gradually cease; the boiling is over.
"Now watch carefully what happens next. I dip this sponge into cold water, and squeeze it over
the upturned bottom of the flask. The boiling at once begins again, although this cooling must have
lowered the temperature much below 212°. Let us see what this means. The steam at first took the
place of the air which it had expelled from the flask. It exerted a certain pressure on the surface of the
water. When the cold water from the sponge cooled the flask, some of that steam was condensed, and
fell in drops of water. There was less steam then to press upon the surface and, in consequence, the
boiling began a second time.
"At the ordinary pressure of the atmosphere water does not boil below 212℉., but when that
pressure is diminished, water boils at a lower temperature."
"Then, sir, I suppose," said Fred, "water would boil at a lower temperature in a balloon, or on
the side of a mountain, than it does here, for the pressure of the atmosphere always diminishes as we
ascend."
"Yes, my lad," replied Mr. Wilson, "you are quite right. On the top of Mont Blanc (15,800 feet
high) water boils at about 180℉.; at Quito (11,000feet) the boiling-point is about 194°, and at Madrid
(3000 feet) about 207°.
"It must be clearly understood, moreover, that these various temperatures cannot be exceeded in
any case. On Mont Blanc, for instance, it would be impossible to make the water hotter than 180°,
because that is the boiling-point there, and this point is no sooner reached than the water ceases to
exist as a liquid, and passes off as steam.
"Food is cooked with extreme difficulty in such places. Indeed, it cannot be said to be cooked at
all, for these low boiling-points do not allow the water to reach a sufficient temperature to extract all
the nourishment and flavor from the food. An egg boiled on Pike's Peak would not coagulate, a potato
would remain hard.
"In deep mines, on the other hand, the atmospheric pressure is greater, and the boiling-point is
higher than 212℉."
 Lesson 23
Vegetable Oils
Oily matter of some kind is met with in most plants. It is found in various parts of the plant but,
as a rule, is most abundant in the fruit and seeds. The reason is obvious if we think of the work which
the seeds have to do. In every case the little embryo plant feeds upon the store of food laid up in the
seed till the germinating period is over, and it is able to seek its own living from the soil. The oily
matter found in certain seeds is simply a peculiar form of that plant-food. Cotton, rape, colza, castor,
and poppy oils are among those obtained from the seeds of plants, and linseed and hemp-seed oils, as
their names indicate, belong to the same class.
Palm oil, cocoa-nut oil, and olive oil are all obtained from the fruits of their respective trees.
If an ordinary almond is held in the flame of the spirit-lamp, it will afford a good illustration of
these oily nuts and seeds. It takes fire readily, and burns with a flame. It contains 46 percent of its
weight in oil, and it is the oil that burns.
Most oils are extracted by pressure, and are known as cold-drawn oils—that is to say, they are
obtained without heating. Some can only be obtained with the help of heat as well as pressure, and
some, again, have to be distilled from the substances which contain them.
There are two classes of these vegetable oils; they will be best understood after a little
experiment. Take two pieces of clean white blotting-paper, and let fall on one a drop of some
common oil, such as olive, colza, or castor; on the other a similar quantity of oil of peppermint. Wave
the papers about in the air gently, and the oil of peppermint will gradually disappear from the one,
leaving neither mark, nor stain, nor trace of any kind, while the other will bear a widely-spreading
greasy stain, and the whole of the oil will remain on it.
In the one case we have an oil which disappears by flying off into the air; we call it a volatile
oil. The word volatile comes from a Latin word meaning to fly. Among these volatile oils are oil of
turpentine, lemon, cloves, lavender, bergamot, rosemary, and peppermint.
The other oil remained as a greasy stain on the paper, and made no attempt to fly off. This we
call a fixed oil. Oil of linseed, hemp, cotton, rape, colza, castor, poppy, olive, palm, and coconut all
belong to the class of fixed oils.
Each of these vegetable oils is useful in its own particular way, and because of its own
distinctive properties.
Linseed oil is the product of the flax plant. It is a curious fact in connection with this plant that,
although it grows equally well in warm as in temperate climates, there is a great difference in the
respective products. In temperate climates it is cultivated specially for its linen-producing stalks, the
seeds and their oil being a very secondary consideration. In warm climates the stalks never reach
robust growth, and the main objects of culture are the oil-yielding seeds.
These seeds contain one-fourth their weight of oil, which is obtained by pressure between
closely-fitting iron rollers. The crushed seeds themselves are pressed into oil-cake, and make a
valuable food for cattle, usually finding ready sales.
Linseed oil is largely used in the preparation of paint and putty, because it has the property of
drying very rapidly when exposed to the air in thin layers.
 Hemp and poppy oils are obtained in the same way, possess the same drying properties, and are
applied to the same uses as linseed oil.
Rape and colza oils are obtained from the seeds of the cole or rape plant, a member of the
cabbage tribe, which is grown largely in India and Southern Europe. The seeds contain 40 per cent of
their weight in oil, which is obtained by pressure.
All oils are very inflammable, but rape and colza are the best of all vegetable oils in this
respect. They are used in lamps, and give a bright luminous flame, without charring the wick. Best
colza oil is employed in the lamps of lighthouses.
These oils have none of the drying properties of linseed and other oils, and would be unsuitable
for the purposes to which they are applied; neither would linseed oil be suitable for lamps.
Castor oil is obtained by pressure from the seeds of a plant, originally a native of India, but now
grown in America and the south of Europe. In those parts of the world it attains the height of 20 feet.
We may sometimes see it growing in the north, but it is a comparatively small plant there, not reaching
more than 3 feet in height. The seeds are about the size and shape of a bean, and contain a large
quantity of thick oil, of a very nauseous odor and taste. We use castor oil as a medicine, but in India it
is abundant, and so cheap that it is used for burning in lamps.
The seeds of the cotton plant yield much oil, which is obtained by pressure. Cotton oil is
plentiful and cheap, but it lacks the qualities of most of the other oils. It is often used, because it is
cheap, as an inferior substitute both for the lighting and the drying oils. It is also largely used for
making soap, and for lubricating machinery, and in cooking, as a substitute for olive oil.
 Lesson 24
Animal Food
"We learnt from our last lesson on food that the little, growing animal requires three distinct
kinds of food-materials—tissue-formers, heat-givers, and bone-makers—if its body is to increase in
size and strength," said Mr. Wilson, at the next meeting of the class.
"But our lessons of last year's course showed us that food has other work besides that of
building up the growing body of the young animal. All animals, whether young or old, are more or
less active, and perform many varieties of work with their bodies. Man works not only with his body
but also with his mind. How does this work affect the body? Can you tell me, Fred?"
"Yes, sir," replied Fred. "I think I can explain it. Every act of our daily life destroys some part of
the substance of the body. The muscles, as the movers of the body, the brain, as the center of thought
and intellect, the eyes, ears, nose, skin—every part of the body destroys some of its own substance in
the very act of performing its work. This is why we feel faint and tired after exertion. We have a
desire for food. We are hungry. If we were kept without food, our bodies would shrink in size, and we
should become weaker and weaker."
"First-rate, my lad," said Mr. Wilson, and his eye sparkled with pride at Fred's intelligent
answer. "The tissues of the body must be renewed, and built up again, as they are destroyed, or the
body would lose in weight and strength. The blood does the work of repairing and making good all
losses, as well as that of building up the growing body. It is the food which we take that supplies the
blood with the materials for this work.
"Our daily diet should contain all three kinds of food-material in some form or other, but not in
equal quantities. We require daily just sufficient tissue-forming and bone-making materials to renew
the waste which is going on, and just enough fuel to create the necessary amount of heat. It is found
that the body needs about four times as much heat-giving, as tissue-forming food, and not more than a
quarter of that amount of bone-making or mineral food. If we take more, or less, than these
proportions, the body will suffer in some way or other.
"These food-materials may be obtained, as we have seen, from both the animal and the vegetable
world. The flesh itself of certain animals provides our main supply of animal food. The sheep gives
mutton and lamb, the ox beef and veal, and the pig pork, bacon, and ham. Poultry (fowls, ducks,
geese, turkeys, and pigeons) supply nourishing flesh-food of another kind. The flesh of the deer gives
us venison, and certain other wild animals, such as hares, partridges, pheasants, grouse, and
woodcock, are called game.
"Flesh-food is specially valuable because it is very similar in its nature to the fleshy parts of our
own bodies. The muscular or lean, fleshy parts of the meat contain the proteid substance, myosin, the
very identical material of which our own bodies are made. It is therefore specially well-fitted for
building up our own tissues. Mixed with the lean of the meat, however, there is always more or less
fat. The amount varies in different animals, and depends upon their manner of feeding. This fat is, as
we have seen, an important heat-giving food. Taken into the body, it does not build up the tissues, but
it burns, and in burning creates the heat which the body requires.
"The value of flesh-food varies in proportion to its digestibility. Mutton, venison, poultry, and
game are easily digested; beef, though it contains much nourishment, requires a more robust digestion;
pork and veal are less digestible than either.
"The quality of the meat, both for flavor and digestibility, may be readily detected by the juices
in the lean, which ought to give a delicate color and softness to the flesh. This fact should never be
forgotten, when one is choosing a joint of meat at the butcher's. The final value of the meat, both as
regards economy, and also its excellence of flavor, depends largely upon the cook.
"We must not leave this part of our subject without a word or two as to the high value of the
bones as food-material. This is a fact by far too little known or appreciated. In the great majority of
homes the bones are discarded, and thrown aside as useless and altogether unprofitable. This is a
great mistake.
"All bone consists largely of ossein—the substance we saw in the bone that had been soaking in
the acid. This ossein, when boiled, yields a glue-like substance called gelatine, which is a very
valuable tissue-forming food. Leg-of-beef bones make excellent soup, 6 lbs. of the bones being
sufficient to yield as much nutritious matter as 1 lb. of the actual flesh itself. What waste it is to throw
such bones away!
"While considering the bodies of animals, we must not pass over fish, for this provides a very
valuable article of food, and one which will compare very favorably with butcher's meat. Many kinds
of fish are used as food—the commonest are the herring, cod, mackerel, whiting, haddock, plaice,
sole, shad, and salmon.
"The fleshy part of the substance of all kinds of fish consists of essentially the same materials as
those which make up the flesh of other animals, except that it contains more water in proportion, and
consequently less nutritive matter. Fish, although not so satisfying as beef or mutton, is very rich in a
certain class of mineral matters known as phosphates, and on this account makes an invaluable brain-
food.
"The cheaper varieties of fish contain more nutritive matter than some of the more expensive
kinds. Thus, herrings contain a very large amount of flesh-forming material; salmon contain much less
in proportion.
"Some fish, such as the herring, pilchard, eel, sprat, mackerel, and salmon, contain a large
quantity of oily fat just beneath the skin. These are usually known as fat fish. Some, such as the sole,
whiting, haddock, plaice, turbot, brill, and cod, have very little fat. They are known as white fish."
 Lesson 25
Measurement as Practiced by the Mechanic
We have seen that in the measurement of matter we must consider extension in one, two, or three
directions—length, surface, volume.
Measurement of length, however, must of course be the basis of all three.

For ordinary measurement the mechanic uses a two-foot rule. This is a perfectly straight and
rigid stick of hard boxwood, fitted with a brass joint in the middle, so that it may be folded small
enough to go into the workman's pocket. On the face of the rule the inches are marked and numbered,
and each inch is further subdivided into half-inches, quarters, eighths, and sixteenths. In measuring
long lengths, where a two-foot rule would be tedious and inconvenient, the tape-measure is often
used. This is a stout, linen tape attached to a reel, and having the necessary divisions and
subdivisions plainly marked. It should have a thin, brass wire running through it, to prevent it from
stretching, or contracting, or curling up. This instrument is especially useful in measuring the
circumference of circular bodies, or indeed any objects with a rounded surface, where a rigid rule
would be useless.
For setting off a certain fixed length on the material he is working, the mechanic mostly uses the
compasses. On this account he sometimes calls them dividers.

Among the most awkward measurements to take are the internal and external diameters of
cylindrical and circular bodies, and of barrels and casks of all kinds. This measurement is
accomplished by instruments called calipers. They are like a pair of compasses with curved legs.
The wire-gauge is a curious instrument used for measuring the thickness of wire. It is simply a
steel plate, with a number of slits of different widths cut round its edge. The width of each slit is
known and numbered, and the diameter of the wire is indicated by the number of the particular slit
into which it fits. The wire-guage now most generally in use measures the largest as well as the
smallest wires; it has superseded all others.
 Taking next the measurement of surfaces, let us commence by measuring the surface of this
blackboard. If we take our rule, and measure along one edge, we shall find that it is 3 feet long. We
will set off the 3 feet on this edge of the board. Let us next measure the adjacent side, which we find
to be 2 feet. This we will mark off also on that edge.

Notice that we call one measurement the length, the other the breadth, (or width,) but we
ascertain both by means of the two-foot rule. We may now do the same on the opposite sides, and
when we have set off the divisions, we will join the points by drawing straight lines across the board.
What have we done? We have divided the board into squares, and we know that the side of each
of these squares measures a foot. A square whose side measures a foot is called a square foot.
Now how many squares have we? Six. Then the whole surface contains 6 square feet. We might
have told the area or surface of the board at once, without drawing the lines, merely by multiplying
the length by the breadth; thus 3×2=6. This, of course, is the way the workman measures his surfaces.
He ascertains first the length, then the breadth, and learns the surface, or superficial contents, by
multiplying these two measurements together.
Volume means, as we have seen, length, breadth, and thickness. This can be best shown with the
help of a number of inch cubes. If we measure one of these cubes, we shall find that it is 1 inch long,
1 inch broad, and 1 inch thick. Just as we called the surface inch a square inch, we shall call this one
a solid or cubic inch.
It is important to remember that the square inch measures the mere surface, without the least
reference to thickness. Hence it is clear that matter of all kinds must require all three dimensions,
because it occupies space; it has not only length and breadth, but thickness as well.

We will now go back to our inch cubes. To make it clear I will build them up into a block, say
three in length, three in breadth, and three in thickness.
There they are; now we will separate the cubes from the block one by one, counting them as we
remove them. How many cubes did it take to form that block? Twenty-seven. That is to say, the block
contained 27 cubic inches.
The workman would simply measure with his rule the length, breadth, and thickness of the block,
and multiply these measurements together; thus, 3×3×3=27.
Hence we learn that the solid or cubical contents of bodies are found by multiplying the length,
breadth, and thickness together.
 Lesson 26
The Skin—Cleanliness
We have already learned that the skin, besides being a covering or protection for the body, is at
the same time a special organ with special work to do. The fact that it contains, coiled up in itself,
millions of individual glands for carrying on this work, is sufficient to show the importance of the
organ.
If all the little tubes of the sweat-glands in your body could be placed in a line, end to end, they
would extend from twenty-eight to thirty miles. Think of that. Every one of us has in his own body
nearly thirty miles of sewerage or drain-pipes for carrying off these impurities from the blood.
But how does this watery sweat, with its impurities, find its way from the blood into the sweat-
tubes, and so to the skin? Every little sweat-tube, which opens on the surface of the skin, is coiled up
into a ball at its inner extremity. It is this ball or coil of tubing which we really mean when we speak
of the sweat-gland. Each gland is closely enveloped with capillary blood-vessels, and the walls of
these vessels, as well as those of the tubes themselves, are so exceedingly thin as to afford an easy
passage for liquids through them.
This passage of liquids through a membrane is called osmosis. It is best explained by means of
an experiment as follows: Take a glass funnel, with a long narrow tube, and bind a piece of thin
bladder firmly over the mouth of it, so as to make it water-tight. Fill the funnel and part of its tube
with a solution of blue-stone (sulphate of copper). Now place the funnel in a basin of water, so that
the blue liquid in the tube and the water in the basin are at the same level.

Almost at once two things will happen. The liquid will begin to rise in the tube, and at the same
time the water in the basin will be seen to gradually assume a blue tint. The explanation is that some
of the water is entering the funnel, and some of the blue liquid is passing out into the water. This
exchange goes on through the substance of the bladder itself; the two liquids have actually passed
through the membrane. This is what we mean by osmosis, and this is the way in which the watery
sweat, and all the impurities contained in it, are drained out of the blood in the capillaries. The coiled
tubes of the little glands receive the sweat as it oozes through, and pass it outwards by means of the
pores on the surface of the skin.
One very important purpose of the perspiration is to preserve the proper temperature of the
body, so that it may not suffer from too great heat, whether from within or without. The natural
temperature of the body is from 98° to 100℉., and it never rises above this while the body is in a
healthy state.
Imagine a person very much over-heated, either by some violent exertion, or through being
compelled to stay in a heated atmosphere. In either case the skin at once begins to act very vigorously,
and the body is soon bathed in perspiration. This perspiration rapidly passes off from the surface of
the skin in vapor, and in doing so carries away heat from the body, so that the natural temperature is
still maintained.
You, no doubt, remember from some of our recent lessons that water can only assume the vapor
form by using up a large amount of heat. The heat necessary in this case is derived from the body, and
the withdrawal of that heat is Nature's way of cooling the body.
These miles of drain-pipes having such important work to perform, it is in the highest degree
necessary that we should assist them as much as possible, if we wish to keep our bodies in a healthy
state. One of the best ways of assisting them is by keeping the body clean.
People who neglect their bodies, by not frequently washing them all over, often become the prey
of loathsome skin diseases and various disorders. They allow the mouths of the glands to become
clogged or choked up with dirt; and the poisonous waste-matters having no proper outlet, remain
there and create disease. Therefore wash well and often.
The skin should also be protected, as far as possible, from cold and damp. Perspiration is
always going on, although we cannot always see the drops of liquid on the skin. This insensible
perspiration, as it is sometimes called, must be allowed to go on without any interference. Therefore
every care should be taken not to check the action of the glands by exposing the body to damp and
cold for any length of time.
Remember, however, that this last piece of advice does not preclude the plentiful use of cold
water on the skin. Never be afraid of cold water, provided that it is followed by a good rub down
with a rough towel, to set the body in a glow again after the bath.
 Lesson 27
Distillation
"Our investigations into the heating of liquids have led us to consider a very important subject
this morning," said Mr. Wilson.
"Think of the water boiling in the flask. What would happen if I held this cold slate over the
steam as it issues from the water?"
"The steam, or water-vapor, would be changed back again into drops of liquid water, sir," said
Will. "Just so, and if I boil mercury in a test-tube, that liquid will also pass off in invisible vapor,
which I can collect again on a cold surface in little round globules of liquid metal. It is so with all
these boiling liquids.
"What do we call this process of re-converting the vapor into a liquid?"
"It is known as condensation, sir," said Will.
"What causes the condensation?"
"The vapor is condensed into liquid because the cold body, with which it comes into contact,
robs it of the heat which it contained," said Fred. "It is the addition of heat that first evaporates the
water, or changes it into vapor. As soon as that heat is taken away, the vapor changes back again into
the liquid form. We say it is condensed. By this term we mean that the molecules of vapor, when they
are robbed of their heat, contract and crowd closer and closer together, till they assume the liquid
form again."
"Very good indeed, my boy," said Mr. Wilson. "Now we will illustrate this in another way. Here
is some strong brine; I am going to boil it in this retort. As I don't wish the steam from it to escape, I
will fit the neck of the retort into the mouth of this flask. I will stand the flask itself in this basin of
ice-cold water, and place the Bunsen burner under the retort. Now let us watch the result.
"What is the heat doing to the liquid in the retort?"
"It is heating and boiling it, sir," said Fred, "and when liquids boil they are converted into
invisible vapor."
"What becomes of the vapor in this case?"
"It cannot escape, sir; it passes into the flask."

"Quite right. Now let us see what happens to it in the flask. The sides of the flask are very cold;
they are surrounded by very cold water. How will this affect the water-vapor inside?"
"The vapor will be re-converted (or condensed) into liquid water again, sir."
 "Here, you see, a double process is going on. The heat beneath the retort evaporates the water,
and the vapor thus formed, after passing into the cold flask, is changed back again, or condensed, into
liquid. We can see the liquid in the bottom of the flask. This double process is called distillation.
"Let us now remove the flask from the retort, and pour out the water. Taste it, Fred."
"Why, sir," said Fred, with surprise, "this is pure water; that in the retort is strong brine."
"Yes, Fred; the salt is all left behind in the retort. We call this distilled water. We might have
done the same with solutions of sugar, alum, soda, or any other soluble substance. We should, in each
case, get only pure distilled water in the flask at the end of the process.
"The variation in the boiling-points of different liquids is turned to useful account in the art of
distilling.

"An apparatus, called a still, and formed on the principle of our retort and flask, is used for the
purpose. Instead of the retort, a strong copper vessel is used, in which the liquid is boiled. The
distilled vapors are passed through a long spiral tube, which is placed in a cistern kept constantly full
of cold water.
"Brandy is obtained from wine by distillation. The wine itself consists of water, alcohol, and
certain other matters. Alcohol boils and passes off as vapor at about 172℉., but water will not boil
below 212°.
"When, therefore, the wine is heated in the boiler to 172°, and not allowed to exceed that
temperature, the alcohol in it distils over, and passes, in vapor form, down the spiral tube to be
condensed. The water, of course, remains behind, because the temperature is never allowed to reach
its boiling-point, 212°.
"Whisky is distilled from malt liquors in the same way; rum from molasses; benzine from
paraffin oil or coal-naphtha."
 Lesson 28
Other Vegetable Oils
We have already examined a certain class of fixed oils, which are obtained by crushing the seeds
of certain plants. Our next business will be to turn our attention to another class, obtained in each
case, not from the seeds, but from the fruit of the plant, and requiring heat as well as pressure in the
process of extraction.
First among these stands palm oil, which is obtained from the fruit of the oil-palm, a native of
tropical Africa.
The tree grows to a height of 30 feet, and the fruit from which the oil is obtained hangs in
bunches, often 2 or 3 feet across. Each individual fruit is oval in shape, and the finest of them grow to
about the size of a hen's egg.
When ripe the fruit is quite smooth, and of a bright, golden yellow. It consists of a small hard nut,
embedded in a soft, oily flesh. The oil is obtained by boiling the ripe fruit in earthenware pans, and
then crushing the mass in wooden mortars.
Palm oil, as we see it in this country, is thick and solid like butter or dripping, but in the hot
climates where it is produced it is liquid like other oils.
It is mostly used in the manufacture of soap and composite candles, and for lubricating the axles
of railway-carriage wheels. The natives of Africa use it as we do butter.

Coconut oil is another of the fats, or solid oils. It is obtained from the fruit of the coconut palm,
which is cultivated in most tropical countries, especially in the East and West Indies, India, and
Ceylon, and in the islands of the Pacific Archipelago. The tree has a long straight stem, which towers
to a height of 100 feet, and is crowned with immense drooping leaves, each leaf measuring about 15
feet in length. The fruit hangs in clusters at the very summit of the tree. It is an immense nut, the kernel
of which is enclosed in a hard woody shell, with a thick, tough, fibrous case outside. The oil, which
at ordinary temperatures is a white solid fat, is obtained sometimes by pressure alone, but mostly by
first boiling the kernels and then crushing them. It is largely used in the manufacture of soap and
candles. It is the only fatty matter which will make a soap capable of forming a lather with sea-water.
We call it marine-soap.

To the natives of the countries where it grows, this tree is most invaluable. They use its wood to
build and furnish their houses; the fibers of the husk and the long tough leaves serve as thatching
material, and for making mats, baskets, ropes, brushes, and such things; the nuts themselves provide
them with food; the milky liquid inside the kernel supplies their favorite drink; and they even make an
intoxicating liquor called arrack from the juice of the flower.

Olive oil is the produce of the fruit of a tree which grows in the countries situated on both shores
of the Mediterranean, and in California. It is an evergreen shrub, not more than 10 feet high, covered
with long lance-shaped leaves, and bearing small, white, sweet-scented flowers, which are followed
by fruit about the size of a small plum or damson. When the fruit is ripe, it assumes a dark purple
color, and the flesh becomes oily, and rough, and bitter to the taste.
The oil is extracted by pressure in a screw-press. That which flows first, and with only a slight
pressure, is considered the best. It is known as Virgin oil. The common kinds of olive oil are obtained
by first heating the fruit, and then subjecting it to very strong pressure. This is the common sweet-oil,
which is used for various household purposes. It is a pale yellow, inodorous liquid, and is very
inflammable.
The best kinds of olive oil are used in the preparation of food, although to a much more limited
extent with us than in the countries of Southern Europe, where it may be said to take the place of
butter and cream, and is used at every meal.
 Lesson 29
Animal Food—Milk, Butter, Cheese, Eggs
"We have already been taught to regard milk and eggs as perfect foods," said Mr. Wilson. "They
are the distinctive foods which Nature supplies for the sustenance of the young, helpless, growing
progeny of her creatures. One of the earliest conquests of civilized man was accomplished when he
domesticated the useful cow, and compelled her to contribute to his daily needs by supplying him
with the milk, intended originally for the support of her own offspring.
"In all civilized countries today milk, in one form or other, is a very important article of the daily
diet. We drink it as a beverage; we add it to our tea, coffee, cocoa, and other drinks; we use it with
various other things to make nutritious puddings, cakes, and custards. In whatever way we take it, it
becomes a highly useful article of diet.
"In the dairy the milk, or rather one of its constituent parts, the cream, is converted into butter
with the help of the churn. The milk is left to stand quietly for a time in shallow pans, until the cream,
which consists of tiny globules or bladders of fatty or oily matter, rises to the surface. These tiny
globules rise in this way, because they are lighter than the rest of the liquid.
"The object of the churning process is to burst the delicate skin which encloses the little
globules, thus setting free the oily, fatty matter within, which forms into lumps of butter. It is clear then
that butter, which consists entirely of fat, is a fuel food.
"It is no part of our business now to follow up the process of butter-making. We are only
concerned in learning the use of the butter itself as an article of our daily food.
"When the cream has been removed from the surface, the skim milk left behind in the pan may be
still further separated into two distinct parts. In the dairy this is done by pouring in rennet, but vinegar
or any acid will separate them. In fact, they separate themselves when the milk turns sour.
"One of these parts, as we saw in our lesson on the different kinds of food, is a white, opaque,
solid substance— the curd. Its scientific name is casein. This is the tissue-forming principle of milk.
In the dairy it is collected and made into cheese, by squeezing out the water, and drying and pressing
it into moulds.
"Cheese may be made either of new or skim milk. When made from skim milk it contains as
much of the tissue-forming casein as that made from new milk, but it is less palatable, because it
contains no cream. It is sometimes called skim-milk cheese. Suffolk and Dutch cheeses are made from
skim milk.
"If made of new milk the cheese contains a large amount of the fatty element, as well as the
essential principle, casein. This adds to its flavor, and thus to its market price, but it does not make it
more valuable as a tissue-forming food. Gloucester, Cheshire, and most of the fine cheeses of
commerce are all made of new milk.
"Cream cheeses are made from new milk too, but, besides the cream which that milk contains, an
additional quantity of cream is added.
"Cheese taken in large quantities is neither a good nor an economical article of food. Few
persons are able to digest a large piece of cheese at one time, although cheese is said to be a good aid
to the digestion of other food if taken in small quantity, certainly not exceeding an ounce at a meal.
 "We may, in passing, notice the thin watery fluid which is left behind when these more essential
parts of the milk have been removed. It is called whey. Dissolved in the liquid are certain mineral
salts, as well as from 3 to 5 per cent of milk-sugar. Our lessons have, of course, made clear to you the
purpose of these constituents.
"Let us now glance at the last of these animal foods— eggs. We have already examined the egg
as to its structure, and the purpose for which it was designed.
"What becomes of the clear, sticky, colorless portion when it is boiled?"
"It changes into a white, opaque, solid substance, sir, which we call albumen, from the Latin
word albus, which means white."
"Quite right. Just one word more about this albumen, and then we have done. Albumen is an
important constituent of the yolk, as well as of the rest of the egg; 20 per cent of the yolk itself
consists of albumen. What else did we find in the egg? We have already noticed a yellow fatty oil.
This oil forms 30 per cent of the yolk of the egg.
"The albumen is the tissue-forming constituent, the fatty oil the heat-giving part of the egg.
"As an article of food, eggs should be but lightly cooked.
"Albumen in its raw state is easily digestible, but when boiled it becomes hard and more or less
indigestible."
 Lesson 30
Steam
"I want you to think once more about the water boiling in the flask over the Bunsen burner, and
some of the things it taught us," said Mr. Wilson.
"Water, at the ordinary pressure of the atmosphere, boils at 212°F. What do we mean by saying
that the water boils?"
"Water is said to boil, sir, when it is being converted from the liquid into the gaseous state—
when it passes off as steam," said Fred.
"Right," said Mr. Wilson. "We know that the water itself at this point—the boiling-point—stands
at 212°, but what is the temperature of the steam as it flies off?"
"The steam too is 212°, sir. Neither the steam nor the water ever exceeds that temperature,
although I can't yet understand what becomes of all the heat which the water continues to receive after
it has begun to boil."
"Ah, my lad," said Mr. Wilson, "I am glad to find you puzzled on this point. It is the most
remarkable fact about the process of boiling, and I can see you have been thinking about it. This
additional heat is not lost—it is not wasted. It is used up in the work of changing the water into steam.
It is in the steam, although we cannot register its presence by the thermometer. It is hidden away, so to
speak, in the steam.
"We speak of it as latent heat; the word latent means hidden away. It is this latent heat which has
overcome the natural force of cohesion in the water, and driven the molecules or particles so far apart
that they form now, not a liquid, but a gas.
"If the steam were passed into a cold chamber, it would be robbed of this latent heat, and the
molecules, with nothing to keep them asunder, would rush together by the force of cohesion, and form
little round globules of liquid again. The steam would be condensed.
"You have seen the steam rushing from the spout of the kettle, or from the funnel of a locomotive.
Why should it rush in this way? I will tell you. At the moment of the change, so great is the force of
this latent heat that the water expands suddenly to 1700 times its original bulk. That is to say, a cubic
foot of water raised to the boiling-point would make 1700 cubic feet of steam, nearly enough to fill a
room 12 feet long, 12 wide, and 12 high.
"It is this great expansive force of steam—or, as we sometimes call it, the elastic force of steam
—which makes it so useful as a mode of motion.
"Suppose we have a little experiment now. I will half fill this test-tube with water, cork it with a
cork that fits it rather loosely, and place it over the flame of the Bunsen burner to boil. Presently, as
the water boils, the cork flies out with a sudden pop, and steam may be seen issuing from the tube.
Either the cork must be forced out, or the sudden expansion will shatter the tube. The steam will, by
its expansive power, force its way out in some direction. There is practically no limit to its expansive
force, except the strength of the vessel which holds it.
 "You may form some idea of what this statement means when I tell you that sometimes the
strongest iron boilers are shattered into pieces by the expansive force of the steam within them.
"I think," continued Mr. Wilson, "you will now be able to grasp the meaning of another very
interesting experiment.
"I have here a flask with a long neck, the same size throughout; I will pot some water in it. This
piston fits the tube, so as to be capable of moving freely up and down in it, but at the same time it is
air-tight. We will fix the flask over the flame of the Bunsen burner, and leave the water to boil. Now
watch the result. As the water boils, the expansive power of the steam will force the piston up the
tube.
"The very moment this happens I shall remove the lamp with one hand, and with the other
squeeze a sponge of cold water over the flask. Note what happens. Immediately the flask is cooled,
the piston falls in the tube.

"If we repeat this again and again, the result will be the same.
The piston will rise as the water boils, and fall when the flask is cooled. Why is this?"
"The piston rises because the expansive force of the steam is sufficient to overcome the pressure
of the atmosphere on its upper surface.
"But let us see what effect the cooling process has on the steam in the flask. The cooling
condenses the steam into drops of water. The water does not occupy so great a space as the steam,
and consequently a vacuum is formed.
"The pressure of the air from the outside then reasserts itself to restore the balance and so forces
the piston down once more."
 Lesson 31
Coverings of Mammals
Man is the only mammal, with the exception of those belonging to the whale family, whose skin
is naked—that is, unprovided with a natural covering. This does not show that other animals require a
warm covering more than man. It shows man has used superior intelligence. He is able to clothe
himself, and to vary his clothing to suit the variations of climate.
In the lower animals Nature does it all. Every creature is provided with a covering of some sort,
to suit the conditions under which it is intended to live. Nature, too, provides for her creatures a
change of clothing to suit the returning seasons. You must have noticed the difference in the thickness
of the cat's coat in summer and winter. In the hot weather much of the coat becomes loose and is shed,
leaving the rest thinner in consequence, but before the winter returns there is a new growth from
below as thick as ever.
You cannot take the cat or a rabbit in your arms in the summer time without finding your clothes
covered with loose hairs. This is not so in the winter.
The whale family have already been alluded to as exceptions to other mammals in this respect.
These creatures have a naked skin, but beneath the skin is an undercoat, so to speak, of solid blubber
or fat. This fat wraps the animal at all points like a thick blanket, and he does not feel the icy cold of
the polar seas in which he lives.
We have only to think of the great bulky body that has to be propelled through the water, and the
wonderful adaptation of such a covering will be at once seen. The smooth, slippery skin glides easily
along, and, in fact, assists locomotion, where a thick outer woolly coat would be an impediment.
While providing in this way, however, for its easy movement in the element in which it lives. Nature
has not been unmindful of its needs in other directions. A thick woolly overcoat was out of the
question; therefore the under-jacket of fat was provided, so that the creature might not be left
unprotected against the cold in those icy seas.
Land mammals have various coverings of hair, fur, or wool, but all these are in reality the same
substance, for fur and wool are only hair somewhat modified.
Let us examine the structure of a hair. Each hair consists of a root, a shaft, and a point. The root
is bulbous in form, and is embedded in the dermis, or true skin, where it is nourished with blood from
numerous tiny blood-vessels. The little pit or hollow which holds the root of the hair is provided with
a delicate lining called the root-sheath. This sheath closely envelops the bulb, and when a hair is
pulled out by the root it tears away the sheath with it.
The shaft or stem of the hair consists of a long conical fibre, and, if examined by means of the
microscope, is seen to be made up of an outer layer of scales, which appear to overlap each other
like the scales of a fish or a snake. Deeply embedded in the dermis, and opening by the side of each
hair, is a little gland, which has the power of separating from the blood a fatty or oily fluid to serve
the purpose of a natural hair-oil, in keeping the hair moist and supple. These are known as the
sebaceous or fat glands. If we place the hand on the woolly coat of a sheep, we find that it is greasy
or oily to the touch. This is due to the oil sent out over the wool from the sebaceous glands, which are
thickly spread in the skin of the animal.
 Let us now look at the hairy coverings of animals from an economic point of view—that is,
having regard to their usefulness to man.
The hair of animals does not enter largely into the manufacture of clothing fabrics. We import,
however, for this purpose, goat's hair from Turkey and South Africa, and the hair-wool from the
alpaca and llama of South America.
The hair of all our domestic animals, too, is turned to account in many ways; but perhaps none is
so useful as the long hair of the tail and mane of the horse.
The best of this hair is spun into a coarse thread, and woven into a rough kind of cloth much used
in the arts and manufactures.
Another kind of hair-cloth, used for seating chairs and sofas, is made of the same material, but
for this the hairs are not twisted, and they run in one direction only of the fabric, the cross threads
being strong flax or hempen yarn.
Some of the best tail-hairs are used in making violin bows and fishing lines, and also for sieves.
The short hair, which is not available for any of these purposes, is used for stuffing chairs, sofas,
and mattresses.
The springy, elastic properties of the hair admirably adapt it for making a comfortable seat. In
preparing it for this purpose, the hair is first spun into a thick rope, and these ropes are then plaited
and twisted very tightly, one in the other. In that state they are put into a slow oven and gently heated.
This treatment has the same effect as the heated curling-tongs of the hairdresser. It enables the hair to
keep the curl that the twisting has given it. The curly character of the hair adds to its elasticity, and
therefore to its suitability for stuffing purposes.
Even the short hair which is removed from the skin of the horse and ox in the process of leather-
making is turned to good account. The builder mixes it with his mortar for ceilings and all sorts of
plaster work. The hair holds the mortar together, and helps to bind it to the laths which support it.
 Lesson 32
Vegetable Secretions—Sugar
It will be readily understood, from the rapid growth they make, that plants are, as a rule, gross
feeders. Yet each plant takes up from the soil only that which is required for its own special needs—
nothing more. From this earth-food it elaborates, by means of its leaves, its own special secretion.
Hence it is that the sap of the one plant becomes a sweet, sugary juice; while that of another yields
camphor; a third gives resin and turpentine; others india-rubber and gutta-percha. One of our recent
lessons introduced a number of plants whose sap is elaborated into oily matter, and stored away in
their fruit or seeds. We shall now proceed to study these vegetable secretions briefly, commencing
with sugar, as perhaps the most important of all.
All the varieties of sugar known in commerce are called by one common name—cane-sugars.
They do not all come from the sugar-cane, although that plant is still one of the chief sources of our
sugar supply. Besides that obtained from the sugar-cane, there are other preparations known as
beetroot sugar, and maple sugar, maize, and palm sugar. The common name, cane-sugar, is given to all
of them, because in their properties they all resemble the sugar of the sugar-cane.
There are many varieties of the sugar-cane under cultivation in different parts of the world, each
being peculiarly adapted to its own locality, climate, and soil. Originally a native of the Old World, it
was introduced into America by the Spaniards in 1520. It is now extensively grown in the United
States, Brazil, and the West Indies, as well as in India, and Mauritius, and the East Indies.

The plant itself is one of the grass family, and its cultivation is simple. The young plants are
raised from cuttings, and not from seed, as the sugar-cane is rarely allowed to mature its flower, and
so ripen its seeds. The plants take from twelve to fifteen months to reach their full growth. The stem is
then a thick, stout, jointed cane, from 8 to 12 (and even in some varieties, 20) feet in height. The stems
of most grasses are hollow; the sugar-cane is a solid stem. The juice, which contains about 15 or 20
percent sugar, resides in the central pith of the stem.
As the canes ripen, the flowers begin to appear, and it is then time to cut them down, A sugar
plantation, towards harvest time, with its yellow, striped, or purple-tinted stems, surmounted by
immense bunches of feathery lilac and rose-colored flowers, presents a very beautiful and attractive
sight, especially to one who looks on it for the first time.

The canes usually ripen about March or April, and the sugar harvest then begins. Men pass along
between the rows and cut them down with large knives. Each cane is then divided into short lengths,
the natural joints of the stem being preserved as cuttings for future planting. The divided canes are
next carted to the sugar-mill, where the juice is extracted by pressing them between heavy iron
rollers. It is estimated that the average yield of the trimmed canes is from one to three tons per acre,
and it takes the juice of twelve or fourteen tons of canes to produce a hogshead of sugar. The sugar
harvest is the great season of the year for the people of those countries where the canes grow. To
them, and especially during harvest time, the sugar-cane becomes a staple article of food. Men,
women, and children suck and chew the ripe stalk; many Black people practically live on it, and get
fat, during this time.
 The raw juice contains not only sugar, but a considerable amount of gluten. Hence it is in all
respects a true food, capable of supporting life and animal vigor.
This gluten has to be removed from the juice, or it would act as a natural ferment, and turn the
sugar into an acid. This is done by adding a certain quantity of quicklime to the juice; the lime
combines with the gluten, and carries it to the bottom of the vessel. The juice, thus clarified with the
aid of the lime, is first filtered, and then boiled rapidly down in large copper boilers. The impurities
rise as a thick scum to the top during the boiling, and must be carefully skimmed off from time to time.
Indeed, the whole process of boiling is an important one, and requires great care to prevent the juice
from burning or blackening. The crushed canes themselves provide the fuel for this part of the work.
The water is gradually evaporated, while at the same time the juice thickens into a syrup. When
it is sufficiently thick, this syrup is run off into wooden vessels to cool. As it cools it separates into
crystals, and in this state it is put into casks, perforated with holes, to drain. The liquid portion of it,
that refuses to crystallize, drains off into vessels placed below, and is known as molasses or treacle.
Beetroot sugar is obtained from a variety of the beet plant known as the sugar-beet, which
contains as much as one-eighth part of its weight of sugar. The sweet juice is easily extracted from the
beetroot, and when boiled and refined it has all the properties of cane-sugar.
Beetroot is extensively grown for its sugar in France, Belgium, Russia, Germany, and other
countries of Europe. In fact, beetroot sugar is commonly known as European sugar. In each of these
countries the manufacture of beet-sugar forms a most important industry.
Maple sugar, or, as it is sometimes called, North American sugar, is obtained from the sap of the
sugar-maple, a large, handsome tree, which often attains the height of 60 or 80 feet. The tree is a
native of Canada and some parts of the United States, especially of those regions where extensive
natural forests of maples flourish.
The sap of the tree is very sweet; it contains the same kind of sugar as the sugar-cane. The sap
begins to flow in February, and, when March comes, parties of sugar-makers start for the forest. They
make incisions into the trunks of the trees, and place small buckets below to catch the sap as it flows.
To assist the flow of the sap into the buckets, they usually fit into the holes little pipes made of elder
shoots. The sap is collected twice a day, and boiled on the spot in large boilers. Two or three men
can usually make, in the season (March and April), as much as 4000 or 5000 lbs. of sugar.
 The people of Central America make another variety of sugar from the green stalks of corn.
These, if boiled, yield a sugar having all the characteristics of cane-sugar. It is known as maize
sugar, or Mexican sugar.
 Lesson 33
The Steam-Engine
"Our lesson this morning," said Mr. Wilson, "is to teach us the principle of the steam-engine, but
before proceeding to examine the steam-engine itself, I must direct your thoughts back to the piston
and the long-necked flask of our last experiment.

"Why did the piston rise in the neck of the flask?"

"As the water boiled in the flask, some of it was converted into steam, sir," said Fred. "It was
the expansive force of the steam, at the moment of the change, that sent the piston up."
"Why did the piston not fly out of the neck altogether?" "It would have done so, sir, but you
cooled the flask."
"What was the result of this cooling?"
 "It condensed the steam into water, and, as the water did not occupy so much apace as the steam
from which it was formed, a vacuum was left in the flask, and the piston moved downwards again
owing to the pressure of the air outside."
"You have followed the experiment well, my lad," said Mr. Wilson. "We shall have no difficulty
now in proceeding to examine the working of the steam-engine, for we shall find that there is a
remarkable resemblance in principle between it and our flask and piston.
"The steam-engine consists essentially of a cylinder, fitted with an air-tight piston, which works
by the elastic force of the steam, up and down, or backwards and forwards, as the case may be. Here
we have the principle of the flask and piston, except that in the steam-engine both the up movement
and the down are brought about directly by the steam. The piston, you remember, moves downwards
in the neck of the flask, not by the action of the steam at all, but by the pressure of the outer air after
that steam has been condensed.
"Now let us find out how, in the steam-engine, both movements are brought about by the steam
itself.
"The water is boiled in a great boiler, and the steam is led, by means of a pipe, from the boiler
into the cylinder. But before it can reach the cylinder, it is first admitted into a small box-like
chamber, called the valve-chest.
"In one side of this valve-chest are three holes, two of them communicating respectively with the
upper and lower parts of the cylinder. The third, which is exactly midway between the two others, is
in communication with a chamber called the condenser.
"In front of the three apertures is a smooth, flat plate of steel, capable of moving up and down. It
is known as the slide-valve, and is just long enough to cover the center hole and one of the others.
When, therefore, one of these is closed the other is always open.
"If you look at this diagram of the engine, you will see that, as there are two apertures leading to
the cylinder— one above, the other below, the piston—it would not do to have both open at once. If
that were the case, the steam would force its way through both; there would be equal pressure on
either side of the piston, and of course no movement could take place.
"Still keeping the diagram before us, let us imagine the slide-valve to be in position to cover,
and so close, the lower of the two apertures leading to the cylinder. The upper one is open, and
allows the steam to enter the cylinder above the piston. The elastic force of this steam presses upon
the piston and moves it downwards.
"In the meantime the slide-valve has moved up, and is now closing the upper aperture, leaving
the lower one free for the steam to enter.
"When, therefore, the steam enters by the lower aperture, and by its elastic force presses upon
the piston, it tends to force it upward.
"But there is already steam in the upper part of the cylinder above the piston. How can the piston
move upwards in opposition to this? The fact is this steam in the upper part of the cylinder has
already done its work in forcing the piston down; it is no longer wanted. It escapes through the centre
of the three apertures, from the cylinder, into the condenser, at the very moment when that which
enters through the lower aperture is exerting upward pressure on the piston. The piston, finding no
opposition from above, rises by the elastic force of the steam in the lower part of the cylinder.
"The rising of the piston brings the slide-valve down again; the same movements are repeated,
and so on perpetually. This is a description of a very simple and somewhat primitive steam-engine,
but whatever work an engine is meant to do, it is all accomplished by the two simple backward and
forward movements of the piston in the cylinder, and they are both brought about by the elastic force
of steam."
 Lesson 34
Vegetable Foods
We use many varieties of vegetable substances as food. The principal are the grains—wheats,
oats, barley, rice, and corn; the preparations known as sago, arrowroot, and tapioca; the seeds of
beans and peas; fresh vegetables, such as are sold by the green-grocer; fruits, and sugar in various
forms.
First among the vegetable foods stand those which yield flour or meal. We call them farinaceous
foods, from farina, the Latin name for flour. These foods shall form the subject of our first inquiries.
"Now, Fred," said Mr. Wilson, "you pleased me the other day very much by showing me that you
had not forgotten the way to separate the starch grains from flour. You shall now come to the front and
do it for me, as you have seen me do it in our earlier lessons. That will do; the water in the basin is
white and milky with the starch. Now open the bag, and let us see what we have left behind in it.
There is a white, sticky substance something like bird-lime left in the bag. We call it gluten. This
gluten is very much the same kind of substance as the albumen, myosin, gelatine, and casein of animal
food. It is a tissue-forming substance.
"The flour, you see, consists mainly of these two constituents, gluten and starch. The starch is
now in the water; the gluten in the muslin bag.

"Here are some grains of wheat. Let us cut them open and examine them. The middle of the grain,
you observe, is white, and this white part is enclosed within an outer covering or skin. The white
inner substance is starch; it is the outer covering of the grain which contains the tissue-forming gluten.
The gluten is always found in this outer part of the grain, just beneath the skin.
"The miller, after grinding the grain, passes the meal through a series of sieves. The first sieve
separates the larger particles from the rest. These are really portions of this very outside skin, and are
sold as bran. The second sifting separates some finer portions of the same skin, which are known as
middling. The brown meal, which remains after this sifting, is really the best and most nourishing of
all, for it contains all the gluten. It makes good, wholesome, brown bread.
 "Many people, however, prefer white bread; hence the meal is sifted again and again, the result
being that much of the gluten is separated from it, and the flour is white only because it consists very
largely of starch.
"You will now understand that although the miller may call this best wheaten flour and best
whites, it is far from being equal in nutritive value to the browner, unsifted, whole-meal flour.
"This pure, unsifted whole-meal of wheat contains about 12 per cent of gluten, 60 per cent of
starch, and 14 per cent of water. The remainder is made up of fat, sugar, and mineral matter. The
proportion of gluten in the flour is lower after each sifting, so that fine wheaten flour does not contain
usually more than 10 per cent.
"The different qualities of wheaten flour in the market are known under various names. I have
already told you that that called the best makes the whitest bread; but is it really the best?
"Wheaten flour is almost universally used in England, but in Scotland it gives place to oatmeal
—that is, the meal or flour of ground oats. Oatmeal is even richer that wheaten flour in gluten, for it
contains no less than 18 per cent of this tissue-forming substance.
"Oatmeal will not make up into light spongy bread, such as we make with wheaten flour. Hence
the Scotch people eat it in the form of porridge and oat cake, which form their principal food, and a
very valuable and wholesome food too. In our land almost the only use we make of oatmeal is in a
breakfast porridge. The grain itself is largely used for feeding cattle and horses.
"Nearly all the barley grown with us is used in the preparation of sugar for malt. Barley-meal,
although much used for feeding cattle and pigs, is not made into bread. In a few places in the north of
England, however, it is mixed with equal quantities of wheaten flour, and made into cakes called
bannocks.
"We usually see it as pearl barley and Scotch barley, and in this form it is used for making soups
and broths. The reason why barley-flour is not used for bread is that the meal is coarse in flavor and
color, and bread made from it, instead of being light and spongy, is heavy and close. Otherwise it
contains about the same proportion of tissue-forming gluten as wheaten flour. The same remarks apply
equally to rye-flour, which is used as a bread-stuff in this country, in making the rye-loaf and Boston
brown bread.
 Lesson 35
Vegetable Secretions—India-rubber and Gutta-
Percha
Both these useful substances are vegetable secretions; they are in each case the solidified sap of
the plant.

India-rubber is obtained from a variety of trees, which grow in Central and South America and
the East Indies. The best rubber and the largest quantities of the article come from Brazil, and are
furnished by the great forests which cover the basin of the Amazons. The East Indian rubber is
obtained from a kind of fig-tree, which grows to an enormous size.
The mode of collecting the juice is almost identical everywhere. The trees are tapped by cutting
a number of slanting holes in the bark with an axe, and tin cups are fixed, by means of clay, below the
incisions, to catch the juice as it flows. From time to time, daring the day, the collector goes round
from tree to tree, and empties the contents of the little cups into a pail. As he usually works about a
hundred trees at one collection, he is kept pretty busy. The juice as it comes from the tree is a
yellowish-white liquid, having something of the consistency of cream. It dries when it is spread out in
thin layers and exposed to the sun.
The East Indian rubber is always sun-dried, and in drying turns nearly pure white.
The milky juice is dried in a very peculiar way. A number of variously-shaped molds made of
clay are dipped into the vessel containing it, and, of course, when they are taken out, some of the juice
adheres to the mold. This is laid in the sun, and as it dries it forms a thin coat or layer over the mold.
The process is repeated again and again. Each dipping and drying adds to the thickness of the deposit,
until the coat is thick enough, when the mold is broken up, and the solid rubber is left.
 The South American rubber is not sun-dried. The collector, in this case, dips his clay mold into
the juice, and then holds it over the smoke of a wood fire for about half a minute. This quickly
changes the milky juice into a thin layer of india-rubber, and he continues the dipping and smoking
process until his deposit is thick enough on the mold. Then the mold is broken up, and the rubber
removed, and set in the sun to further dry and harden. This smoker-drying changes the color from a
creamy white to almost black.
India-rubber is now put to an immense variety of uses, but before it is available for any of these
purposes it has to undergo a process of mastication to remove dirt, and all solid impurities. It is first
softened in boiling water, and in that state cut up into small pieces with sharp knives. These pieces
are rolled by wooden rollers, to crush out all foreign substances, which are then washed away, and
the purified rubber is kneaded, or masticated, into a lump while it is still warm and soft.
Gutta-percha is prepared from the milky juice of a tree which grows in the forests of the Malay
Peninsula and the islands near it. We have retained the native name, which is derived from gutta,
meaning gum, and percha, the name of the tree. Gutta-percha simply means the gum of the percha-tree.
The tree is very large; its trunk often measures 3 feet in diameter, but the wood is of a loose, spongy,
fibrous nature and, of course, valueless as timber.
The sap begins to flow immediately after the rainy season; this is the time to commence
operations. The Malays have different modes of collecting the juice. Sometimes they merely bore a
hole in the bark, and catch the sap in gourds as it exudes. More frequently, however, they cut the trees
down, strip off the bark, piece by piece, and collect the sap as it flows. It dries and hardens rapidly
into a solid lump on exposure to the air. Collected in this way, the gutta-percha is discolored with dirt
and impurities, which have to be removed before it can be of use. This is done by first heating the
substance in boiling water, till it is quite soft, and then tearing it to shreds by machinery. In this way
all the impurities sink to the bottom of the water, and are washed away, leaving the shreds of soft
gutta pure. All that remains is to knead them up, while they are still soft and pliable, into a solid lump.
 Lesson 36
Radiation of Heat
When next the boys assembled for their lesson, Mr. Wilson began by calling upon them to
describe the mode in which heat passes through solids and liquids respectively.
"I want you to think once more," said he, "of the poker in the fire, and tell me exactly by what
means the handle becomes heated, although it is some distance from the fire."
"The heat travels through the poker, and through all solid bodies, by conduction, sir," said Fred.
"One molecule of matter receives the heat, and passes it on to the next."
"Right. Now tell me what takes place when a liquid is heated?"
"In liquids the heat is carried, or conveyed, by the upward flow of the heated molecules
themselves, which are not fixed and stationary as they are in solids. We call this convection."
"Exactly," replied Mr. Wilson, "and now that we are sure of our ground as to solids and liquids,
we will turn our attention to the passage of heat through the air, which, you know, is a gas.
"One of you shall come to the front, and stand before the fire. You at once feel a sensation of
warmth. The heat, of course, comes from the fire. We must find out how it travels through the air to
your body.
"First, does it travel through the air by conduction? We will see. While you stand in the same
position, I will hold this drawing-board between you and the fire. What do you observe?"
"I no longer feel any heat from the fire, sir."
"No, you get no heat now. But if the fire sent out its heat through the air by conduction, all the
particles of the air would be heated in succession, and you would still feel the heat, in spite of the
board.
"If we stood in the open air exposed to the most brilliant summer sun, we should experience
exactly the same thing. Immediately the screen was put between us and the sun, the sensation of heat
would disappear.
"Hence we learn that, although heat does pass through the air from one body to another, it does
not travel by conduction, nor does it heat, to any extent, the air through which it passes. Air is a non-
conductor of heat.
"Heat, as you know, passes from the sun to the earth, but balloonists experience severe cold in
the higher regions of the atmosphere, although they are then so much nearer the sun. The sun's heat
travels through the atmosphere without raising its temperature to any extent.
"Lower down, at the surface of the earth, the air is more or less warmed by the heat which is
given out from the warm earth. We shall inquire further into this presently; we are now concerned
only with the passage of heat through the air.
"Suppose we have an experiment. I have got something in the fire; it is a large iron ball. I
daresay it is red-hot by this time. I want a dozen of you to come to the front, and stand in a circle in
the body of the room. Now I will take the ball out of the fire, and hang it by its chain in the middle of
the circle. Of course, each of you will tell me that he feels the glow of heat from the red-hot ball.
Now sit on the floor below the ball, and you will still feel the heat, and so you would if I could place
you above it.
 "You may take your places again; I have something else to show you now. Here is a large ball of
wool, and you can see that I have stuck it full of pins, all pointing towards its center.
"I want you to imagine that, from every part of the surface of the red-hot ball, straight lines of
heat are sent out through the air, much in the same way as the pins appear in the surface of the ball of
wool. This is the universal way in which heat travels through the air from one body to another. We
call these straight lines rays of heat. The drawing-board screen proved that the rays travel only in
straight lines, for when it was placed in front of the heated body, it intercepted the rays, and no heat
was felt. Heat, then, passes through the air in straight lines, which we call rays of heat, and we say
that it travels by radiation. The body itself which sends out the heat we call a radiator.

"Just one more thought before we leave the subject. You stood in front of the fire just now and
became warm; we naturally stand before the fire to warm ourselves. We are warmed by taking in the
heat which is radiated from the fire. We might stand there too long, or get too close to the fire, and we
should be glad to move away. We should be getting too hot; we should burn ourselves if we remained
there.
"Other bodies placed in front of the fire would be warmed too by taking in this radiated heat. We
say they absorb the heat, and we call the bodies themselves absorbers of heat.
"So then we see that one body radiates heat, and another absorbs it, and the double process
would go on till both bodies were at the same temperature.
"I have a pretty experiment to prove this, but as it would take up too much time during the lesson,
I will show it to you after school. I shall simply hang up our red-hot ball again, and place half a dozen
thermometers in a circle round it. You will have nothing to do but watch what happens. You will see
that, as the ball cools by radiating its heat, the mercury in each of the thermometers will rise by
absorbing it, and after a time the ball and the thermometers will show the same temperature."
 Lesson 37
More about the Farinaceous Foods
"You all know what this is," began Mr. Wilson, as he held the object before the boys at the
opening of the next lesson.
"Yes, sir; it is a cob, or ear, of corn."
"Right; so it is," he replied. "Now I am going to start this morning with corn, as another of the
farinaceous foods. But first of all, tell me why the name farinaceous is given to these foods."
"Farinaceous comes from the Latin word farina, sir, which means flour," said Will. "All these
foods are used in the form of fine meal or flour."
"Quite right," replied Mr. Wilson. "Now let us pass on to consider this one—corn.

"Corn is not grown in England— their summers are not long enough to ripen the grain. It is,
however, grown largely in many parts of the world, and is an important article of food. Corn, like the
other grains, consists mostly of starch. It contains only about 9 percent gluten, while wheat contains
from 10 to 12, and oatmeal 16 percent. On the other hand, corn-meal is richer in fatty or oily matter
than any of the other grains. This renders it easily digestible.
"In this country we not only grind the ripened corn into flour, and use it as we do other flours, but
we cut the green cob before it is ripe and boil it for the table. In this state the corn upon the cob makes
a most delicious and nutritive vegetable.
"Because of its deficiency in gluten, it is customary to mix this corn-meal with an equal quantity
of wheaten flour for making bread.
"We also use corn-meal for porridge, eating it with milk and sugar. It is commonly known as
stirabout, mush, hasty pudding.
 "Nearly all the corn that finds its way to shipment abroad is in the form of corn-starch. It consists
entirely of the starchy portion of the grain, and is used for making milk-puddings, blanc-manges, etc.
"To prepare this corn-starch, the kernels are first well soaked in water till they swell up and
become rather soft. They are then crushed between rollers in a tank of water. As the crushing process
goes on, the water becomes white and milky-looking. Don't forget the flour in the muslin bag, and you
will know at once what goes on in that tank.
"When the whole of the grain is crushed fine, the milky-looking liquid in the tank is made to pass
through sieves, which hold back the pieces of husk and skin.
"You remember, of course, that in all the grains the gluten is invariably found adhering closely to
the outer skin. When therefore these pieces of the skin are held back in the sieve, all the gluten is held
back at the same time. The milky-looking liquid which passes through contains only the starch of the
grain. It is made to flow into tanks, and there left to stand for a time, till all the starch has sunk to the
bottom. The clear water is then drained off, and the starch is removed and dried over a gentle heat.
This starch is the corn-starch, which we use with milk and eggs to make our puddings and custards.
"Rice is another important farinaceous food. It forms the staple food of the people of the East.
Rice is to them what bread is to us. It contains, however, a very small amount of tissue-forming matter
—in fact, the least of all the corn-grains—not more than 6 or 7 per cent; while 75 per cent of the grain
is starch.
"It is not, therefore, of much nutritive value unless used with some other food rich in flesh-
forming and fatty matter. We use rice both whole and in the form of meal, but we always use it with
such things as eggs and milk, or in soups.
"Next among the farinaceous foods come sago, arrowroot, and tapioca, which are pure starches,
and contain no gluten. These foods differ from the others of the class in that they are obtained not from
the grain, but from the substance of the stems of the plants. It is no part of our present business to
dwell upon the mode of preparation in either case. That was done in one of our earlier lessons. We
have now only to arrange them in our list of starch-foods. Considered as food, they have little value,
unless used with some tissue-forming and fatty substances; they are quite incapable of supporting life
alone."
 Lesson 38
Vegetable Secretions—Camphor and Gums
Among the useful vegetable secretions, camphor undoubtedly holds an important position.
Originally the juice of the plant which produces it, this substance, like others we have already met
with, assumes the solid form during its preparation for use.
Camphor, as we see it, is a white, hard, tough, crystalline substance, with a very powerful
aromatic odor, and a bitter, unpleasant taste. It is so volatile that a piece left exposed to the air would
in time disappear altogether by evaporation. Very slight heat is required to change it from the solid
form, but it can then scarcely be said to become a liquid, because it passes off at once as vapor.
It dissolves very slowly in water, so slowly that we might almost describe it as insoluble, were
it not that it imparts some of its odor and taste to the water. It dissolves rapidly in alcohol, forming
camphorated spirits or spirits of camphor.
Insects of all kinds dislike the strong, pungent smell of camphor. Little saucers of this substance
are always kept, therefore, in cabinets of natural history specimens, to keep away insects. It is a good
protection against moths, to put some camphor in the drawers where furs, blankets, and woollen
clothes of all kinds are kept.
Camphor is used as a medicine, but it is a fallacy to think that it has the power of warding off
infection. It is even a bad thing to wear camphor about the person, as it is weakening and lowering,
both to the muscular and the nervous system.
A few drops of camphorated spirits taken on a lump of sugar, as soon as a chill is felt, will often
save a person from catching cold. Camphor-ball, or camphor-ice, as it is sometimes called, is
invaluable for chapped hands and faces, and also for burns and chilblains.
Camphor is obtained from a plant belonging to the laurel family. The camphor laurel grows
chiefly in China and Japan, and there it is as large as an English oak. It has lately been introduced into
several of the warmer countries of the world.
It is obtained in a curious way. The valuable secretion is stored in every part of the tree—root,
stem, branches, and leaves. When, therefore, the tree is fully matured, it is uprooted, and every part of
it is chopped up into small pieces.
These pieces are then put into iron retorts, with wooden lids or coverings perforated with holes,
and above the lids are placed large dome-shaped hoods made of earthenware. The hood is filled with
loose twigs, hay, or straw, and after all the crevices have been stopped, the retort is placed over a
slow fire.
The heat causes the volatile camphor to rise in vapor, and as soon as the vapor touches the cool,
rough surface of the hay and twigs, it condenses on them in flaky crystals, and is afterwards scraped
off.
It is now a dirty brown color, and is known as crude camphor. It is purified by a second
distilling process, somewhat similar to the first, and when it is again collected, it is the hard, white,
crystalline substance which is familiar to us all.
 Gums are another class of vegetable secretions, possessing their own special characteristics
distinct from all others. Gum-like exudations may frequently be seen oozing through the cracks in the
bark of trees, especially of many of our fruit trees. The juice hardens on exposure to the air, and then
has the appearance of little, rounded, semi-transparent, glistening, solid drops. It is perfectly
odorless, and has an insipid taste, but it dissolves in the mouth, and becomes very glutinous and
sticky. This is the nature of all gums.
The most valuable of these secretions is Gum Arabic, which is obtained from a tree of the acacia
tribe, that grows chiefly in Arabia, hence the name. It also grows in the East Indies, Abyssinia, and
Egypt. It is an exudation from the stem, and hardens on exposure to the air.
It is very soluble in water, forming, when fully dissolved, a thick, glutinous solution, with
strongly adhesive properties. It is on account of its adhesive and stiffening properties that this gum is
so extensively used in the arts and manufactures. It makes a valuable cement for attaching labels to
glass and other objects. It is largely used also in calico-printing, and in the manufacture of crape and
other fabrics.
Gum Senegal is a similar though inferior secretion, and is much used in calico-printing.
The so-called gum, used for postage stamps, envelopes, and labels, as you already know, is not
actually a gum, but is made from baked starch. Its proper name is dextrine or starch gum.
 Lesson 39
Teeth
Our very earliest lessons led us to pay special attention to the teeth of each animal that passed
under our notice, because we were taught to regard the teeth as a sure indication of the food, life, and
habits of the individual. The lessons on digestion made the reason for this clearer to us, by showing
the important work which falls to the lot of the teeth in the proper mastication of the food.
We are now in a position to study the teeth a little more closely, and as we shall best understand
those of the various classes of mammals by referring to our own, we will confine ourselves today to
an examination of the teeth of man.
You all know that your own teeth are of different shapes and sizes. This is not an accident, for
each kind of tooth was designed for a special purpose.

Let us commence with the long, broad, flat teeth in front of both the upper and the lower jaw.
There are four of them in each jaw, and they have sharp, cutting edges. We use these teeth for biting
through our food. It is with these teeth that a boy takes a bite out of an apple or a slice of bread and
butter.
In our earlier lessons we were content to call these the chisel-teeth, because their sharp, cutting
edges bear some kind of resemblance to a carpenter's chisel. We must now learn to recognise them by
their scientific name— incisors—a word which means simply cutting-teeth.
Next to the incisors, on either side, and in both jaws, is a long, rounded, conical tooth. There are
thus four of them altogether. Some of you may keep a dog at home. If so, look in his mouth, and you
will find that he has four teeth like these, but they are very large, sharp, and prominent. We speak of
these four conical teeth of ours as canines, or dog-teeth, because they are like those of the dog. Canis
is the Latin name for dog.
Behind the canines, in each jaw, and on either side, are a number of large, square, broad-
crowned teeth, which differ from both the incisors and the canines. The working surfaces of their
crowns are rough and uneven, resembling in this respect the roughened millstones of a mill. Indeed,
they form the mill for grinding the food; we often speak of them as the grinders. Even their scientific
name—molars—points to the same thing, for the word molar comes from a Latin word signifying a
mill.
The full number of molars for an adult is twenty—that is, there are five on each side of both
jaws. But boys and girls have not so many. Indeed, there was a time when we had no teeth at all; we
required none, for our food consisted entirely of milk, although we ourselves cannot recollect that
time.
Teeth begin to make their appearance when the infant is about six months old, and the cutting of
this first set is usually completed by the end of the second year. By this time the child's digestive
organs have grown strong enough to enable it to give up its milk diet for more solid food, which the
teeth are now ready to masticate.
It is easy from this to see why these are called the milk-teeth. There are twenty in the complete
set, viz. four incisors, two canines, and four molars in each jaw—that is to say, two incisors, one
canine, and two molars in either half of the jaw.
These milk-teeth fall out when the child is about seven years of age, to make room for the new
teeth. There are more than twenty teeth in the permanent set, as they are called.
The complete permanent set contains thirty-two; but the last of the molars do not make their
appearance till adult age.

It will assist us in the proper understanding of what is to follow, if we now examine briefly the
structure of a tooth. The bulk of the substance of all teeth is a hard, bony matter, called dentine, but the
whole of that part of the tooth which appears above the gum is coated with an exceedingly hard
substance, known as enamel.
The tooth is lodged in the gum by one or more roots or fangs, and the blood-vessels for
nourishing it, as well as certain nerves, enter the tooth at the extremity of the fang. There are no
nerves or blood-vessels in the hard enamel coating on the outside.
Good teeth are such an important factor, not only as regards our personal appearance, but also in
our general health and well-being, that it behoves us to take every care in preserving them. It should
not be forgotten that, hard as this enamel is, it is extremely brittle. It will not stand too much rough
usage, and when once it is cracked or broken, it lays bare the softer dentine underneath, which soon
begins to decay, and all the pleasure of life is destroyed by the racking pains of toothache. Very hot,
as well as very cold liquids should be avoided, as both of them have a tendency to crack the enamel.
Regular use of the tooth-brush night and morning, careful avoidance of nut-cracking, too many sweets,
and also of that silly practice of picking the teeth with pins and needles, will do much towards
keeping them sound and healthy.
 Lesson 40
Radiators and Absorbers
"I think," said Mr. Wilson, "you clearly understand what is meant by a radiator."
"Yes, sir," replied Will. "A radiator is a heated body, which cools by giving off its heat in rays."
"That's right, my lad. I have a great deal more to say on this subject, and our best course will be
to commence the new lesson with a simple experiment. I have here a couple of meat tins; one, you
see, is bright inside and out, the other I have coated with lamp-black on the outside. Some few
minutes back I filled both tins with boiling water from the kettle. We are now going to examine them. I
will plunge a thermometer into each. Now, in the first place, I filled both vessels, as I told you, with
boiling water from the same kettle, and therefore the water in both was then at the same temperature.
Let us see what the thermometers tell us now.
"The water in the black-coated vessel is much cooler than that in the bright one. It has, in fact,
cooled nearly twice as fast."
"How have these vessels cooled?"
"They have both cooled by radiation, sir," answered Fred. "The heat has passed through the air
in rays, and I suppose the radiation has been going on more rapidly in the blackened vessel than in the
bright one."
"Yes, Fred, you are right," replied Mr. Wilson, "and the same thing would have happened if,
instead of coating the vessel with lamp-black, I had covered it with dark-colored linen, or brown
paper. Dark-colored bodies, and those with rough surfaces, are the best radiators; white and polished
surfaces are bad radiators.
"Before the lesson began I stood two other tins, similar to these, in front of the fire. Of course all
this time the fire has been radiating heat, and the two vessels have been absorbing it. We will now
take them up and examine them. We find that the black one is hotter than the bright one; find so it
would have been if, instead of the black coating, it had been covered with brown paper, or some
dark-colored substance, such as the linen we just mentioned. Hence we learn that dark-colored
bodies and those with rough surfaces absorb heat more quickly than white and polished surfaces, like
that of the tin.
"So, then, the best radiators are the best absorbers of heat, and bad radiators are bad absorbers.
"But we have still to learn," continued Mr. Wilson. "what has become of the heat in the one case,
for they both received the same amount of heat from the fire, and yet the bright tin is not so hot now as
the black one.
"The black vessel absorbed the rays of heat; the polished one would not absorb them, but sent
them back. We say the rays were reflected. That is to say, bad absorbers send back, or reflect, the
rays of heat, instead of taking them in.
"The knowledge of scientific facts is of little use, unless it is turned to account in some way. You
will readily see now why all metal utensils, such as kettles, urns, tea and coffee pots, as well as metal
dish-covers for the table, should be kept bright; and also why the engineer is careful to keep the
steam-pipes of his engines well polished."
"Yes, sir," said Fred, "the bright polished surfaces are bad radiators; they will not allow the heat
to pass away."
"Have you ever noticed," asked Mr. Wilson again, "that the polished fire-irons in front of the fire
are often scarcely warm when the black fender is very hot? Water will boil much sooner in a kettle
covered with soot than in a brightly polished one. All cooking vessels should, therefore, be black and
rough on the outside in order that they may absorb heat rapidly.
"Light-colored clothing is most suitable for summer wear. In tropical countries people almost
universally dress in white garments. These, being bad absorbers, throw back, or reflect, the sun's
rays, which dark clothing would rapidly absorb.
"On the same principle the slated roofs of buildings may be white-washed in summer to keep the
place cool.
"The gardener trains his best grape-vines and gets his earliest ripe grapes on rough dark walls.
Can you think out the reason for this, Fred?"
"I suppose, sir," replied Fred, "the wall, being a good absorber, and also a good radiator of heat,
takes in the sun's rays rapidly, and as rapidly radiates them back on the fruit, and so ripens it quickly."
"That's a very thoughtful answer," said Mr. Wilson.
"Now let us, lastly, think of the snow and winter-time. Snow neither absorbs nor radiates heat. It
protects the plants in the ground by preventing the heat from passing away by radiation, while it melts
very slowly in a thaw owing to its low absorbing power."
 Lesson 41
Leguminous Foods
"I have here some peas, and a few different sorts of beans," said Mr. Wilson. "We sometimes
speak of these things under the common name of pulse. The Latin name for them is legumen, and this
is why they are always described as leguminous foods.
"You have no doubt seen these things growing, and you know that they are the seeds of the plants
which produce them. The fruit of the plant is, in every case, a pod, and these seeds are arranged in
regular order in the pod. Our business now is not with the plants, but with these seeds. We want to
learn something of their value as food material.
"Have you ever eaten some fresh, young, green peas? If you have, you can tell me how they
tasted."
"Yes, sir," said Fred, "I have, and they always taste very sweet."

"That's quite true, Fred," replied Mr. Wilson. "Now, I have here some pea-meal. I will mix some
of it into a paste with warm water, and you shall hold a little of the paste on your tongue."
Fred did as he was requested, and in a short time he was in possession of the whole secret.
"I know what you wish me to find out, sir," he said. "The paste soon began to taste sweet. That
proves that there is starch in the pea-meal. The saliva from my tongue turned the starch into sugar, and
it is the sweetness of the sugar that I can taste."
"Capital," said Mr. Wilson, "and now you know why the young green peas always taste sweet.
Peas and beans of all kinds, like every other vegetable food, contain starch. They are less valuable,
however, for the starch which they contain than for another constituent, of which we shall speak next.
Indeed they contain less starch in proportion than any of the farinaceous foods of our recent lessons.
"They all contain nearly a quarter of their weight (from 23 to 25 percent) of a valuable tissue-
forming substance. That is, they contain much more tissue-forming matter than either wheaten flour,
oatmeal, or butcher's meat.
"You remember I told you that the Latin name for pulse of all kinds is legumen. This name is now
used by scientific men to describe, not the pulse itself, but the tissue-forming matter which it contains.
 "The legumin, when separated out from the starch and other matters of the seeds, is found to be
very similar in character to the casein of cheese. In fact, the Chinese actually make a kind of cheese
from the legumin of peas.
"Beans and peas, in the dried state, are not eaten very largely, in spite of their valuable tissue-
forming legumin, for they are somewhat difficult to digest. Both, however, in their growing state as
green vegetables, are favorites with most people, and are regarded generally as luxuries of the table.
"The variety of beans, known as broad or great beans, are often used in their dried state for
feeding horses. They are then commonly called horse-beans.
"We use the green pods as well as the seeds of the scarlet-runner and French bean, but the seeds
only of the broad bean and pea are cooked.
"When used in the dried state, the only things necessary to make peas and beans of all sorts
excellent food are good soaking in cold water and careful cooking. A good plan is to soak them in
cold water for one day, and then let them stand for a couple of days in their wet state. Under these
conditions, the seeds will commence to grow, and as soon as this happens, the softened starch will be
converted into sugar. They then require careful boiling for two or three hours. This treatment will
render them perfectly digestible for all except the most delicate persons.
"It is in the highest degree important to remember that, provided they can be rendered easy of
digestion, peas and beans are a most economical food, because they contain such a large proportion
of the tissue-forming legumin.
"One of the most valuable of these leguminous foods in the dried state is the haricot bean. This is
in reality the dried seed of a small white variety of the French bean."
 Lesson 42
How Heat Affects the Absorption of Vapor by the
Air
"Our early lessons made us familiar with the fact that the air always contains moisture or vapor,"
said Mr. Wilson, "although the quantity varies from time to time. We are now in a position to inquire
into the reason of this.
"Any of you may perform this little experiment for himself. Take a towel, weigh it, or get
somebody to weigh it for you, dip it in water to wet it thoroughly, then wring it out, and have it
weighed again. It will weigh heavier than at first, because of the water it holds. If you hang it up in
this condition in the open air it will, after a time, become quite dry, and if you then weigh it, you will
find it to be exactly the same weight as at first.
"The water which it held will have disappeared. If I were then to ask you what had become of
the water, you would tell me at once that it had been evaporated, and that the air had sucked up or
absorbed the vapor, as a sponge absorbs liquids.
"Boiling, as we saw in one of our recent lessons, is essentially evaporation on a rapid and
violent scale. The vapor (steam) is formed in masses at a high temperature, and it rises and spreads,
by reason of its own tremendous expansive force. The vapor of ordinary evaporation is formed at
much lower temperatures, and rises silently and invisibly, forcing its way, molecule by molecule, into
the pores between the molecules of the air itself.
"So much, then, for the presence of vapor in the air: now as to the variation in quantity.
"Imagine a glass jar fitted with an air-tight lid and filled with perfectly dry air, at an ordinary
average temperature, 60°F. Inside the jar is a small shallow saucer of water, suspended from a
delicate spring balance.
"Now let us see what we have. We have a vessel containing perfectly dry air, and in it there is a
small saucer of water. Note what takes place. Evaporation commences immediately, and it is very
rapid at first. The air is thirsty, and drinks up moisture eagerly. Our delicate scales would soon tell us
that the saucer is getting lighter, because it is being robbed of its water by evaporation.
"In a short time, however, the scales would show that less and less water is leaving the saucer.
Evaporation is becoming slower and slower, and at last it ceases altogether. The air has finished its
drink; it is quite full; it can hold no more. The molecules of vapor have filled up all its pores. We say
that the air is saturated—that is, full of moisture.
"Now, what is the general effect of heating bodies— solids, liquids, or gases? The heat drives
their molecules farther apart, by overcoming the force of cohesion. If, therefore, air be heated, and its
molecules driven farther apart, it must make the spaces or pores between the molecules larger.
"Let us then suppose that we could suddenly increase the temperature of the jar and its air to
90°F. We should see, by the balance again, that there would be a second rapid evaporation from the
saucer, which would, after a time, become slower and slower, and at last cease entirely. What is the
meaning of all this? The air at the higher temperature is more porous—it has greater capacity for
absorbing moisture. Evaporation commences the second time, and goes on until all the pores are
filled with moisture. It then ceases entirely, because the air has again become saturated at the higher
temperature.
"Our balance would show us another fact. The amount of water removed by evaporation this
time from the saucer would be twice as heavy as at first. That is to say, the increase of 30°F. in the
temperature has enabled the air to take up just twice as much moisture as it could hold at the lower
temperature.
"Suppose we imagine now the opposite process to be at work. As long as the air in the glass
vessel remained at 90° Fahr. it would be able to hold all the moisture it had absorbed. We, however,
will suppose that it is suddenly cooled again from 90°F. to 60°F. We should see the sides of the vessel
become misty, and the interior would be filled with a dense fog.
"Let us see what all this means. The air is unable, at the lower temperature, to hold all the
moisture, and consequently gives up part of it, which is at once condensed into liquid water again.
"If we could collect all this water, we should find it to be exactly the quantity which was taken
up the second time, when the temperature was raised from 60℉ to 90℉. If we reduced the temperature
of the air still lower, it would give off more and more of its moisture, condensed in tiny globules of
liquid water.
"You will now be able to reason out for yourselves why wet clothes on a line dry much more
rapidly, as a rule, in warm than in cold weather, and in a dry atmosphere much more quickly than in a
damp, humid one."
 Lesson 43
Resin and Turpentine
If we examine a piece of common resin, we shall be struck with its resemblance, in many
respects, to the gums, which we have already described. It has a semi-transparent, glassy appearance,
and is somewhat sticky to the touch. On the other hand, further examination would show that it differs
from them in being highly inflammable, and insoluble in water, while it is soluble in spirits of wine,
and the essential or volatile oils. Resin is employed chiefly in the manufacture of soap, and also in the
preparation of a common kind of wax, which is used for sealing the corks of bottles.
Oil of turpentine, or spirits of turpentine, is a clear, transparent, very limpid liquid. It has a
peculiar and powerful odor, and is highly inflammable, burning with flame and smoke. If we let fall a
drop on a sheet of paper, it will gradually pass away, leaving no stain. It is this last-named property
which places it among the volatile oils.
Indeed, oil of turpentine is unquestionably the most valuable of all the volatile oils. Large
quantities of it are used in making oil-colors for painting. Its thin, limpid nature helps the paint to
flow freely from the brush, and when it is laid on, the oil of turpentine, owing to its volatility, flies off
rapidly in vapor, leaving behind the substance of the color, with the thin coating of linseed-oil.
It is also largely used in the manufacture of varnish, and in making the common lacquer for
covering iron goods.
It is a powerful solvent of fat and oily matter of all kinds. Hence we use it to take grease-stains
out of our clothes, etc.
Now that we know something of the nature and properties of both these substances—the solid
resin and the liquid oil of turpentine—we may go a step further, and say that the two come from the
same source.
They are the product of certain trees belonging to the pine family. Several species of these trees
elaborate a peculiar secretion—a thick, very sticky liquid, of a yellowish color, not unlike honey in
appearance. It is obtained by making a number of cross-cut incisions in the trunk almost to the pith,
hollowing out each one so as to form a sort of bowl or basin, into which the turpentine—a honey-like
liquid—drains, and is collected in vessels placed round.
 This liquid is known as crude, or common turpentine. The great pine-forests of North America
supply immense quantities of this crude turpentine—in fact, they supply the world. No less than
30,000 tons are exported annually to England alone.
In the preparation of the secretion for use, it is heated with a certain quantity of water in a
copper retort or still. When the water boils, the steam passes away into the condenser to be re-
converted into water, and the vapor from the heated liquid distils over with it.
This vapor condenses too, and forms a clear, limpid fluid which, being lighter than water, floats
on the surface. The new liquid, when collected, is the volatile oil or spirits of turpentine. In the retort
itself a yellowish, solid substance is left behind. This is the resin.
The crude or common turpentine, therefore, consists of resin dissolved in the oil of turpentine.
One more thought about the volatile oils before we leave the subject. The list of these oils
includes, amongst others, the oils of lemon, cloves, nutmeg, lavender, bergamot, rosemary, and
peppermint, in addition to the oil or spirit of turpentine. They are clear, limpid liquids, much lighter
than water; they leave no greasy stain on paper; they are obtained (like the oil of turpentine) by
distillation; and they are characterised by their powerful odor and taste.
They were at one time thought to contain the subtle essence of the plant from which they were
derived; this explains why they were called essential oils.
 Lesson 44
Teeth of Mammals
Speaking generally, the teeth of most mammals are arranged on similar lines to those of man; that
is to say, we find, as a rule, the same kinds of teeth—incisors, canines, and molars. Every order of the
class, however, is distinguished by the special development of one or other of these, to suit the habits
of the individuals. Let us examine them one by one.
In the Carnivora, or flesh-eating mammals, the special development is in the direction of the four
canine teeth, which are always remarkable for their size, sharpness, and prominence. The main object
of these teeth is to seize and hold the prey and to tear their flesh. There is very little work for the
incisors, hence they are always small, like those of the cat. The molars are well developed, but their
surfaces are specially furnished with sharp, jagged ridges, which work against each other at every
movement of the jaw, like the sharp edges of a pair of scissors. The peculiar development of the teeth
in these animals is accompanied by a corresponding modification in the movement of the lower jaw.
The flesh-food, on which they live, cannot be ground up as other food can. The molars, instead of
doing the grinding work of a mill, become mere cutting or chopping instruments; in consequence, the
jaw requires only a simple up-and-down movement.
A remarkable divergence may be seen in the case of some of the so-called Carnivora, such as the
bears and the domestic dog, which vary their flesh diet with more or less vegetable food. In all these
the sharp cutting ridges of the exclusively flesh-eating animals begin to disappear, and give place to
the ordinary, roughened surface of the grinders, while, more remarkable than this, the jaw begins to
take the double movement—sideways as well as up and down—which is wanting in the true flesh-
eaters.
 The greater the mixture of food, the greater the modification, both in the teeth themselves and in
the movement of the jaw. In the dogs, for instance, only the two back molars are changed; in most of
the bears three or four are affected, the bears being further advanced as vegetarians than the dogs. The
teeth of the aquatic flesh-eaters, such as seals and otters, are deserving of notice. Their prey consists
of the slimy, slippery inhabitants of the water, and not only are their canine teeth well developed, but
all the teeth are furnished with sharp, saw-like edges, to serve the double purpose of holding the
victim, and cutting through its flesh.
In the walrus, one of the family, the canines of the upper jaw are very largely developed, and
form great tusks, often measuring 2 feet in length, and serving as weapons of attack and defence. It has
neither canines nor incisors in the lower jaw.
The Insectivora include the shrews, hedgehogs, and moles, in addition to the bat family. The
former find their prey on and in the earth, the latter feed mainly on the insects that people the air, and
this explains why they are flying mammals.

In this order the special feature about the teeth is that the molars bristle with sharp points,
specially fitted to crush the hard coverings of the insects on which they feed. Only one movement—an
up-and-down one—is required for this work. Another remarkable modification is seen here. Certain
of the bats live on fruits in preference to insects. In these the molars are true grinders, with the
ordinary, flat, roughened surfaces, and no sharp points, while the jaw has the double movement for
mill-work.
In the order of Rodents we find the incisors specially developed. There are never more than two
in each jaw, but they are long and broad, and have sharp, chisel-shaped, cutting edges, specially fitted
for gnawing purposes. These animals live on vegetable food, which they gnaw or nibble with their
chisel-shaped incisors. The remarkable provision about these teeth is that they never lose their
sharpness—the very work of gnawing tends to sharpen them.
Like all other teeth, they are composed of the two substances, dentine and enamel. The front of
the teeth is hard enamel, the rest is the softer material dentine. The gnawing work of the animal wears
away both substances, of course; but as the dentine wears faster than the enamel, the edge is always
left sharp.
There is one other remarkable fact in connection with these teeth. From the nature of their work
they wear away faster than the teeth of any other animal; indeed, they would soon wear away
completely unless some provision were made to prevent it. Look at Nature's provision in this case.
The incisors of all these gnawing animals are entirely without roots, such as other teeth have, and they
grow from below as quickly as they are worn away at their edges.
Just one thought more before leaving this order. There are no canine teeth, but there is a
considerable space between the incisors and the molars, where the canine teeth should be. The
molars themselves, too, are deserving of notice. Instead of irregular projections, these teeth have a
number of parallel ridges running crosswise. The movements of the jaw, moreover, are most
remarkable. In addition to the up-and-down and the sideway movements, it has a peculiar movement
of its own: backwards and forwards. This helps the molars to do their work by a sort of rasping
process.

The Ruminants, or cud-chewers, are distinguished, as regards their teeth, by one characteristic—
the want of incisors in the upper jaw, their place being supplied by a pad. One member of the order,
however, the camel, is a departure from the rule, as he has incisors in both jaws. The whole order,
being exclusively vegetarians, either have very small canine teeth, or are entirely devoid of them. The
molars are always large and well developed.
 The teeth of the horse present the remarkable peculiarity of a space between the canines and
molars. This is known as the bar. The bit of the bridle fits into it. The canines, as might be expected,
are very small; the molars are largely developed, and are twenty-four in number, and there are six
incisors in each jaw.
In the elephant and wild boar the canine teeth are developed to an enormous size and form tusks,
which serve as weapons of attack and defence.
 Lesson 45
The Formation of Dew and Hoar-Frost
"I want you to think over our lesson on evaporation," said Mr. Wilson, "and the part that heat
plays in regulating the quantity of vapor the air absorbs. It taught us that the air, at every temperature,
absorbs vapor up to a certain point, but beyond that it will take no more. We say that the air is
saturated and that, for each degree of temperature, it has its point of saturation. Air, at the ordinary
temperature of about 60℉., may contain a certain amount of moisture, and yet not be saturated. But
suppose that air becomes cooled, what will happen then?"
"The cooler air cannot hold so much vapor as it did at 60℉., sir," said Fred.
"Quite right, Fred, and the same quantity of moisture would be sufficient to quite saturate it at the
lower temperature.
"Now, let us suppose the air to be cooled still further. It was already saturated; its capacity for
holding moisture is still less under the new conditions; some of the moisture must go. It does go. It is
condensed, and falls in little round drops of water which we call dew. The temperature at which the
air begins to deposit dew is known as the dew-point.
"Before our lesson began I stood a tumbler of cold water on the table. Come and look at the
tumbler, Fred, and tell me whether you see anything unusual about it."
"The outside of the tumbler is covered with little drops of water, sir," said Fred, "and some of
them are running together and trickling down the sides of the glass."
"It is so," replied Mr. Wilson. "Now, the first point to settle is where these drops of water came
from. They did not come from the glass, either by oozing through its sides or by overflowing from the
top. They came from the moisture or vapor in the air of the room. Let me explain.
"The air of the room is warm, and is able, at its present temperature, to hold a certain amount of
water-vapor. The glass is cold, and it reduces the temperature of the air all round it, first to its point
of saturation, and afterwards to its dew-point, and then it is that the drops of dew begin to form on the
cold glass. Dew is always formed in this way—not in the air, like fog and cloud, but on the cold
surface of solid bodies. There is always some solid body colder than the dew-point of the air around.
The air comes into contact with this colder body, and is robbed of some of its heat. The loss of heat
compels it to give up some of its vapor, and this is deposited as drops of dew on the surface of the
cold body itself.
"All day long the earth and all the objects on its surface are absorbing more heat from the sun
than they can give out by radiation. When night comes on, the absorbing process is over, and the
radiation only is going on. Consequently, the surface of the earth (and of most solid bodies at night) is
continually losing heat, and is, as a rule, colder than the air near it. Hence the formation of dew when
this warm air comes into contact with it.
"When the temperature of the earth and the solid bodies on its surface sinks below 32℉., the
moisture is deposited in the form of tiny particles of ice. We call it then hoar-frost.
"Dew is usually formed on a fine, clear, still night, succeeding a warm day. Very little dew is
formed on a cloudy night. The clouds act like a curtain, and prevent the radiation of heat from the
earth.
 "Dew is formed abundantly on grass and foliage generally, on trees, and on wooden palings, but
very little is formed on the gravel paths or the stone pavements. Gravel and stone are bad absorbers,
and bad radiators of heat."
 Lesson 46
Fresh Vegetables and Fruit
Under the name of fresh vegetables we include tubers, such as the potato; fleshy roots, such as
the turnip, carrot, parsnip, and radish; as well as green vegetables, such as the cabbage family,
lettuce, spinach, cauliflower, water-cress, onion, etc.
These, like all vegetable food, contain both flesh-forming and heat-giving matter in various
proportions. The potato, although it contains little or no nutriment for tissue-forming, is a very
valuable heat-giving food. Nearly all its solid matter consists of starch.
Carrots, turnips, parsnips, cabbages, cauliflowers, and onions are very nutritious, both as tissue-
formers and heat-givers. If one of these fresh vegetables—say a potato, a turnip, a cabbage, or a
cauliflower—were placed over a fire, or in an oven, it would at once begin to give off vapor, and
after a time it would gradually dry and shrivel up.
If we weighed it before and afterwards, we should find a great difference in its weight. The
potato, for instance, would lose about 75 percent of its weight by this drying process; the turnip no
less than 90 percent. It is clear then that all these fresh vegetables contain a large amount of water.
Whence did they get this water?
It was absorbed from the soil by the roots of the growing plant. Now water, as we know, acts as
a solvent, and dissolves the mineral matters out of the soil. The roots of the plant, in taking up the
water from the soil, take up also the mineral matters, which that water holds in solution, and these
mineral matters are absorbed into the structures of the growing plant with the water.
Let us now take our potato, dried as it is, and burn it. Of course most of its substance will be
consumed with the burning, but in the end we shall have a residue, which will not burn, which no
amount of heat can consume. It remains as an ash after the burning. This ash represents the mineral
matter which was taken up from the soil by the roots of the plant.
It is more perhaps for their value as storehouses of mineral matter, than for their other
properties, that fresh vegetables are so important to our health and well-being.
It is a common occurrence that people who have been deprived for any length of time of fresh
vegetables, develop scurvy and other skin diseases.
One important mineral, potash, is always found in some form or other in carrots, turnips,
parsnips, radishes, asparagus, watercress, lettuce, and endive. Potash is chiefly valuable as a
preventive of scurvy and other eruptions of the skin, or, as scientific men would say, for its anti-
scorbutic properties.
Soda, lime, common salt, and the salts known as phosphates are all equally necessary to our
general health and well-being. They find their way into our system by the same means, and from the
same source.
Fruit, of all kinds, although it possesses a very small amount of nutritive matter, is nevertheless
of great value as food, because, in addition to the sugar which it contains, it is a storehouse for certain
mineral matters and acid juices. As we saw in the case of the vegetables, the mineral matters are
valuable as anti-scorbutics; the acid juices are equally valuable in medicinal properties.
No fruit can be safely eaten, however, in an unripe state, for then the acid juices are very
powerful, and would quickly be the cause of indigestion and other derangements of the system. Unripe
fruit should never be eaten unless cooked; unsound fruit should never be eaten cooked or raw. On the
other hand, fruit, when it is ripe and sound, forms a pleasant and agreeable change of diet, and ought
to occupy an important place in the meals of the day.
 Lesson 47
Tar and Pitch
Our lessons on coal introduced us to tar as one of the off-products formed from that mineral in
the manufacture of coal-gas. There is another kind of tar—not black like coal-tar—but of a dark
brown color. This is made from wood.
If we examine it we shall find it to be a dense, heavy, sluggish liquid, having something of the
consistency of molasses. It has a powerful smell, and a bitter, unpleasant taste. It is highly
inflammable, and burns with a bright flame, giving off volumes of dense smoke. If we let fall a small
quantity in a vessel of water, it sinks to the bottom, because it is heavier than the water. It will not mix
with the water, and it is insoluble in water; but it is soluble in spirits of turpentine, and in all fats and
oils.
We always employ either oil of turpentine or grease of some sort to remove tar stains from the
hands. Water will not do it.
In its properties, therefore, this wood-tar resembles the coal-tar of our early lessons.
It is the property of not mixing with water that has caused tar to be so extensively used in
preserving wood-work and other materials.
We tar wooden sheds, fences, and the outside of ships. We steep the ship's cordage in tar; we tar
sheets of canvas to make water-proof tarpaulings, and we steep in tar great beams of timber, which
are required to resist the action of water. When a wooden post is to be fixed in the earth, the lower
end of it is first steeped in tar. The reason is simple. The moisture in the earth cannot enter the wood
to rot its substance, because it cannot mix with, or pass through the outside coating of tar. A well-
tarred shed will last for many years in spite of rain, because the rain simply runs off the tarred
surface, and cannot penetrate.
Pitch is a black, solid substance. It is very brittle, and when broken has a bright shining surface.
It becomes liquid and boils with a slight heat. Like tar, it is impervious to water. Tar and pitch, like
resin and turpentine, come from the same source. Indeed, tar and pitch are the products of some of the
same family of the cone-bearing trees from which we get resin and turpentine.
 The particular kind of pine which yields tar and pitch is known as the Scotch fir, and is grown
chiefly in Norway, Sweden, and Russia. In our country the swamp pine of North and South Carolina,
Georgia, and Alabama yields tar. Tar, although a secretion, does not flow naturally from trees like
turpentine. It is stored up in the roots, and the supply can only be obtained by the destruction of the
tree. When the tree is fit for the purpose it is felled, and the roots are cut up into small logs. A circular
pit, tapering towards the bottom, is next dug on a sloping bank or hillside, the sides of the pit being
beaten hard and smooth. The bottom of the pit is made to communicate, by means of a pipe, with a
tank placed below.
The little logs of pine roots are then carefully packed in the pit, and when it is full a fire is
lighted on the top. As soon as the whole mass is fairly lighted, the mouth of the pit is covered with
earth and tufts of grass. In this way the burning goes on in a slow, smouldering sort of way, because it
is partially smothered and confined.
 The result is that the wood becomes charred and converted into charcoal, and a dense, molasses-
like liquid runs downwards through the mass, and passes into the tank below. This is the tar of
commerce.
The tar, when heated in a retort, distils over a volatile spirit—oil of tar—and leaves the black,
solid substance—pitch.
 Lesson 48
Heat, the Cause of Motion in the Air
"We are going to begin this morning with an experiment, boys," said Mr. Wilson. "I have here a
large glass jar. I have divided it into two parts, from the top to within an inch or so of the bottom, by
fitting into it a cardboard partition. On one side of this partition I will lower into the jar a piece of
lighted candle. I want one of you to come to the front and hold over the other side a piece of
smouldering brown paper. Watch what takes place. The smoke from the smouldering paper passes
down one side of the glass, then under the partition, and up the other side in which the candle is
burning.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"I suppose the heat of the candle flame has made the air on that side of the partition hot, sir," said
Fred. "Yes, Fred, you are right; the heat of the burning candle has raised the temperature of the air all
round it. But what follows from that?"
"Air expands when it is heated, sir," replied Fred. "The heated, expanded air is of course lighter
than it was, because the same quantity has to fill a greater space than it did at first."
"That's very good, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "The expanded air is lighter than it was—lighter than
the rest of the air near it; lighter than the air below it. It is therefore forced upwards by the buoyancy
of that heavier air around and below it, or, as we often say roughly, it ascends.
"But as the warm light air rises and passes out at the top of one side, the colder, denser, heavier
air from the other side rushes under the partition to take its place, and so prevent a vacuum. We
should not have been able to see the moving current of air in the usual way, so we held the smoking
paper over the mouth of the jar, and that showed the direction of the movement."
"I remember, sir, you showed us this movement of the heated air by another contrivance in one of
our lessons on the coal-mine," said Fred.
"So I did, my lad. Suppose you tell us all about it now."
"You had a small wooden box with two round holes cut in the bottom. The lid of the box was
taken off, and the box was stood upside down on the table. You fitted two lamp-glasses into the round
holes, and stood a lighted candle under one of them. I remember holding the piece of smouldering
brown paper over the top of the other one for you. Our experiment just now brought it all back to my
mind. The smoke passed down that glass and up the other, under which the candle was burning. It was
the heat of the burning candle that caused the current of moving air."

"Thank you, Fred," said Mr. Wilson. "I am very pleased to know that you try to remember what
you are taught. Now let us see where all this leads us.
"Think of the gas or the lamp burning in a room. Here the action is exactly the same. The heat of
the flame raises the temperature of the air around, and this heated, expanded, lighter air rises towards
the ceiling, the colder, denser air constantly moving in from all sides to take its place and force it
upwards. The hottest air in the room is always near the ceiling, the coldest near the floor.
"The light hot air in the upper part of the room will do its best to escape, and float away higher
and higher outside, if it can find a crack or an opening anywhere. When a room is very warm, pull the
window-sash down about half an inch from the top, and hold a lighted candle near the opening. The
flame will pass outwards through the crack, showing that there is a rush of air in that direction.
"If next you open the door a little way, or hold the candle-flame near the crack at the bottom, the
flame will be seen to blow into the room, owing to the inward rush of air there.
"The fire in the grate acts in the same way, although the heated air passes up the chimney with the
smoke and not into the room. There is, however, a constant movement of cooler air through the room
towards the fire to take the place of that which has floated away up the chimney."
 Lesson 49
Ventilation
"In one of our recent lessons we learned why hot air rises, and why the hottest air in the room is
always near the ceiling," said Mr. Wilson. "But the burning of the candle, the gas, or the oil in the
lamp affects the air of the room in another way besides heating it, and thus causing it to expand and
become lighter than it was. Who can tell what I mean?"
"The burning, in each case, produces the poisonous carbonic acid gas, sir," said Will, "and this
gas floats away into the air of the room."
"That is exactly what I meant, my lad," said Mr. Wilson. "But I think you can tell of another way
by which the air becomes charged with carbonic acid gas, in addition to this."
"Yes, sir; we and all other animals are constantly sending out carbonic acid gas into the air by
our breathing."
"Quite right, Will. Now think again. You called this carbonic acid a poisonous gas just now.
Why?"
"We could not breathe this gas, sir, even in a small quantity, without making ourselves ill; and in
a larger quantity it would quickly kill us."
"Right again," said Mr. Wilson. "Let me make this quite clear. Imagine a man shut up for twenty-
four hours in a room 7 feet square and 8 feet high. At the end of that time every particle of air in the
room would have passed through his lungs; he would have robbed the air of about one-twentieth of its
oxygen, and breathed out into it an equal amount of carbonic acid gas.
"Such air would be quite unfit to breathe. But as long as the man lives he must continue to
breathe, and thus at every breath he would be inhaling large quantities of this poisonous gas. We have
only to picture two or three people in that room instead of one, and think of what the result would be.
"The very thought of it calls up in one's mind the hideous story of the Black Hole of Calcutta. On
20th June 1756, Surajah Dowlah, Nabob of Bengal, made a sudden and unexpected attack on the
defenceless traders at Calcutta, or Fort William, as it was then more commonly called. After entering
the town, he took 146 persons of our race and drove them at the point of the sword into a small room
18 feet long and 14 broad, where they were shut up for the night, the place being surrounded and
strongly guarded by the Nabob's troops. There, through the sultry night of that hot climate, these poor
sufferers endured unspeakable agonies of thirst and suffocation, trampling one another down in vain
attempts to reach the one little window in the dungeon, filling the air with their wild ravings of
delirium and despair. The dusky guards outside, meanwhile, replied to their appeals with jeers and
curses. In the morning, 23 out of the 146, one of them a woman, were dragged from this den of torment
alive, but pale, emaciated, exhausted, and quite unable to stand. The remainder were a heap of
corpses.
"In our school-rooms, public halls, and all buildings where many people meet, as well as in our
living and sleeping rooms at home, every care should be taken to see that there is a way of escape for
the heated, vitiated air, and a free communication with the fresh air on the outside.
"This is what we mean by ventilation. There are many artificial contrivances for admitting the
fresh air and driving out the bad. Most of them are constructed somewhat on the principle of the fan;
they set the air in motion just as a fan does when we move it to and fro.
"The word ventilation itself comes from a Latin word, which actually describes the waving
movement of a fan through the air.
"We cannot all have costly contrivances for ventilating our rooms, but we can all make use of a
few simple practical hints.
"We spend a good share of each twenty-four hours in our bedrooms, and it is important to
remember that, although we are sleeping, the work of respiration is still going on—it never ceases. It
is as essential for us to breathe good fresh air then as when we are awake. The top sash of the
bedroom window should be kept down an inch or so day and night, for the escape of the foul air. Or a
row of holes may be bored in the upper part of the frame with a gimlet, and this will answer equally
as well.
"But how about letting in fresh air to take the place of the bad air which escapes in this way? We
need not trouble about this. The bad, heated air will be sure to rush away if we leave a means of
escape for it in the upper part of the room. The pure air will force itself in through every crack and
crevice, through the keyhole, under the door, to take its place as quickly as it passes off.
"As the air which enters the room in this way has to pass through the house, it is important to
keep the house and all things round it clean and free from bad smells, or we shall begin by admitting
bad air into the room.
"This applies to all workrooms and classrooms, as well as to sleeping-rooms, especially when
gas is burned. The only thing to be avoided is the causing of draughts. Draughts create mischief. The
best ventilator for a room is a fire; we have seen how the heat of the fire causes inward currents of air
to flow from all parts of the room. If a number of persons sit in a room without a fire, the air soon
becomes stuffy and foul; but if a fire is burning in the grate, it will help very much to keep the room
ventilated.
"A simple way to rapidly purify a close, foul room is to open both the top and bottom sashes of
the window at once; the reason for this requires no telling."
 Lesson 50
Winds
"Our lessons have shown us that the heat of the fire, the gas, or the lamp causes currents of air
through the room or, in other words, sets the air of the room in motion," began Mr. Wilson, at the next
meeting of the class.
"I want now to get outside the room. Let us imagine ourselves, some calm, still evening, in a
field, where an immense bonfire is burning. Immediately the flames began to ascend, we should feel,
as we stood round, currents of cold air rushing in from every quarter towards the fire. These currents
would at once become apparent if we held over our heads some long, thin, paper streamers.
"The reason is clear. The immense heat from the fire expands the air round and above it, thus
making it lighter, bulk for bulk, than the air in its vicinity. This thinner, lighter air is not able to resist
the pressure of the denser, heavier air around. There is a momentary struggle between the two, but it
has to give way to the greater pressure. The dense, heavy air rushes in from all quarters towards the
fire, and by its pressure forces the lighter air upward.
"This movement of the air as the result of heat from the bonfire will illustrate to you the manner
in which winds are caused. These currents of air setting in on all sides towards the fire are actually
winds on a small scale.
"Wherever winds occur, something similar to this must have been going on. The air in some spot
has been greatly heated, and of course expanded, and made lighter. It consequently ascends, while
colder, heavier air rushes in from all sides to prevent a vacuum. This rushing air forms the wind.
"Land and sea breezes are the simplest illustration of the formation of winds. We will see how
they are caused.
"Carry your minds back, in the first place, to our lesson on the radiation and absorption of heat.
You remember, of course, the meaning of the two terms, and that good absorbers are always good
radiators, bad absorbers bad radiators.
"The land is a better absorber and therefore a better radiator of heat than the sea. The sun shines
all day with equal power on the land and on the adjoining sea, but the land takes in more heat than the
water. Being a good radiator, however, it radiates this heat into the air as readily as it receives it; thus
the air above the land becomes hotter than that over the sea. This heated air from the land expands,
and becomes lighter, bulk for bulk, than the colder, denser air over the sea. It is unable to resist the
pressure of this colder, heavier air; it gives way to that pressure, and ascends, owing to its lightness,
the air from the sea rushing in to fill its place. Thus all day long we have a breeze blowing from the
sea to the land.
"Now when the sun has set, the source of heat is gone. The land is no longer absorbing heat.
Through-out the night, however, the land continues to give up by radiation the heat it has taken in
during the day. It soon becomes cold—colder than the sea, which, although it has absorbed slowly,
has also radiated slowly. Hence the air above the water is warmer, in comparison, than that over the
land; warmer means also, as we have seen, lighter, bulk for bulk.
"Heat has, in this case again, caused unequal pressure. The rarefied, lighter air over the sea
cannot resist the denser, heavier air from the land, which is pressing upon it. As before it gives way,
and rises into the higher regions, forced to do so by the onrush of the air from the land. This gives a
land breeze, which lasts till the sun next morning begins to assert its power, and then the breeze from
the sea sets in once more.
"Think now of the tropical regions of the globe, and of the immense power of the sun in those
parts. The heated air acts in exactly the same way and, in consequence, movements of colder air from
the temperate and polar regions, north and south, set in towards the equator. The directions of these
winds are modified from various causes, but their origin is always the same."
 Lesson 51
Sources of Clothing
Now that we know something of the laws which must guide us in the selection of our clothing, it
will be well for us to look into the sources from which we derive our supply of clothing materials.
We obtain these materials from both the animal and the vegetable world. From the former we get
wool, fur, leather, and silk; from the latter, linen and cotton.
All the animal substances are bad conductors of heat. Amongst them wool undoubtedly stands
first as regards its general utility. It is. as you know, the natural covering of the sheep. The wool is
shorn from the animal, during its lifetime, every spring.
Wool differs in quality and characteristics. Much of our common wool has long, coarse fibers,
and is usually known as long wool. From it are made flannels, blankets, worsted goods, and stuffs,
such as moreens, merinos, etc.
The wool imported from Australia and Saxony is of a different kind. Its fibers are comparatively
short, but fine, soft, and silky. This class of wool is used in the manufacture of broadcloth and other
fabrics, mostly for men's wear, and commonly known as woollen goods.
Fur is Nature's wise and beneficent covering for a large class of her creatures, which live mostly
in the cold regions of the earth. It consists really of very fine, soft hair, set extremely thick on the skin,
so as to form a smooth, close coat. Hair itself is a bad conductor of heat; hence this thick, close-fitting
coat of fine hair is the very best provision that could be made to protect these creatures from the rigor
of the climate.
In the short summer of those regions, when the thick coat is no longer required, much of the hair
falls out and is shed, leaving the rest loose and open, but before winter returns a new supply grows,
and the coat again becomes thick and close.
Among the fur animals whose skins supply us with clothing material are the rabbit, hare,
squirrel, cat, ermine, sable, marten, racoon, badger, black and silver foxes, otter, beaver, seal, bear,
etc.
Unlike the wool of the sheep, the fur coat of these animals becomes serviceable to us only after
the animal is dead. The skin itself, with its fur covering, is taken from the animal, and dressed without
removing the fur. The man who dresses the skin is called a furrier.
Siberia and British North America are the two great fur-producing regions of the world. They
form immense hunting-grounds for almost every variety of fur-bearing animals. They give constant
employment to large numbers of bold, adventurous men, who in their trapping and hunting are
exposed to great risks and dangers.
Leather is made from the skins of many animals. These skins in their raw state would, like all
other animal matter, decay and rot. The treatment which they are made to undergo is to prevent this.
After the removal of the hair, they are soaked in a liquid called ooze, made by steeping oak-bark in
water. This is the process of tanning; the result of it is to permanently arrest all tendency to decay, and
at the same time to render the skin waterproof. It changes the perishable skin into durable and
comparatively imperishable leather. Being a bad conductor of heat, and at the same time waterproof,
it is the best of all materials as a covering for the feet.
 Silk, the softest and most costly of all materials, is the product of the caterpillar of the silk-worm
moth. During the change from the caterpillar to the moth, the chrysalis spins its cocoon of soft, glossy
fibres. These fibers are spun and manufactured into the silks and satins and velvets of commerce.
Linen holds the first place among the vegetable materials used for clothing, both for its strength
and durability as well as for its beauty of texture. Our earlier lessons have made us familiar with its
history, properties, and uses. We are not concerned with those things now. Our business here is to
regard it as being the best conductor of heat, among the textile fabrics, and therefore having its own
special usefulness.
As an article of clothing it keeps the body cool, by allowing the superfluous heat easily to pass
away. Because of the beauty of its glossy surface, it is used for shirt-fronts, collars, and cuffs. It is too
costly to be used for the whole garment, except by wealthy people.
Cotton is a sort of vegetable wool. It is obtained from the seed-pods of a plant which grows in
most of the warm countries of the world. It is a conductor of heat, but is not of such high conducting
power as linen. It forms an admirable material for clothing in hot climates, and, being cheaper than
linen, is much in request. It is by far the most abundant and important of all materials used for textile
fabrics, and supplies man in all parts of the world with clothing material.
 Lesson 52
Currents
"I think you have seen this before," said Mr. Wilson, as he proceeded with an experiment at the
opening of the next lesson. The boys watched carefully, and were soon eager and anxious to tell him
all about it.
"Well, Fred," he continued, "suppose you tell us what it is."
"This is the experiment by which you showed us the heating of liquids by convection, sir," said
Fred.
"Exactly," replied Mr. Wilson, "But I am now using it for another purpose. Why did I put the
little pieces of coloring matter into the water?"

"The little blue particles show us the direction in which the water moves, sir."
"Right, my lad. I am now going to talk to you about this moving water. The coloring matter
shows us, as you say, streams flowing through the body of the water in the flask. These streams we
call currents. You see it is the heat from the flame below which sets the water in motion, and causes it
to flow in streams or currents through the flask.
 "Let us now place the heat above the water, instead of below it. I suppose you wonder how I am
going to do that. Look; I have here a large open glass trough filled with water, and into the water, as
before, I will drop some little pieces of coloring matter. I have also in the fire, red-hot, the iron ball
which we have already used for another purpose. Here it is; I will hold it by its chain just over one
end of the trough.
"The water immediately under the red-hot ball is heated, and of course expanded, thereby
becoming lighter, bulk for bulk, than the body of the water around and below it, while some of it
actually passes away by evaporation. This lighter water is forced along by the upward pressure of the
denser liquid below it, and thus a stream or current is set up through the trough, the warm water
flowing along the surface, the colder, denser stream along the bottom of the vessel.
"Now I want this red-hot ball to represent the sun, and this trough of water the ocean. I shall be
able to make you understand readily enough how similar currents are set up in the ocean by the heat of
the sun.
"We have frequently, in our lessons on evaporation, spoken of the effect of the sun in heating the
water of the ocean. In what part of the world should we expect to find this going on to the greatest
extent? Your thoughts immediately travel, of course, to the great oceans in the tropics, and you are
quite right. The immense power of the sun in these regions heats the water of the ocean in very much
the same way as our red-hot ball heated the water just now. Some of it, we know, rises in masses of
vapor to form clouds; that which is not evaporated is expanded with the heat, and becomes lighter,
bulk for bulk, than the body of the ocean water. The denser water from below exerts a greater
pressure upwards than this expanded, lighter water can exert downwards. The balance has been upset
between them; the stronger force gets the mastery; the light, expanded, surface water gives way,
forced onwards by the pressure of that from below. In this manner, surface streams or currents of
warm water are set up from the equatorial or tropical seas towards the poles.
"But let us go a step further. The dense, cold water, which by its upward pressure forces these
currents onward, itself comes from the lower depths of the ocean. Such immense masses of water
drawn from below tend to destroy the equilibrium—to create a vacuum. To prevent this, other streams
or currents set in from the poles towards the equatorial seas. The water of these polar currents is, of
course, cold, dense, and heavy. They flow, as we should expect to find them, along the bed or bottom
of the sea.
"I have, thus far, spoken of these currents as flowing either from the equator to the poles, or from
the poles to the equator. A chart of the ocean, however, would show us that they do not flow direct
north and south. They would, if the earth were stationary, and if there were no great masses of land to
intercept them. As it is, these currents are turned out of their course by the rotation of the earth on its
axis, as well as by the irregular configuration of the land.
"The most important of these ocean currents is the great Equatorial Current, which commences
off the west coast of Africa, crosses the Atlantic to the shores of South America, and after passing
through the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico, emerges once more into the Atlantic under the
name of the Gulf Stream. It is veritably a warm river rushing through the Atlantic at the rate of about
50 miles a day. It skirts the eastern shores of North America, and at length disperses, some say in
mid-ocean, others (and this is more generally believed) off the western shores of Europe.
"I called it a warm ocean-river just now. When it leaves the Gulf of Mexico its average
temperature is 81℉., and even at New York its temperature is about 75℉. You will perhaps form some
idea of the immense volume of this ocean stream when I tell you that its depth off New York is not
less than 100 fathoms, while at Florida it is probably twice that depth. It leaves the Gulf with a width
of 32 miles, which has increased off Cape Hatteras to 75 miles.

"This immense volume of water then flows through the Atlantic, parting with its heat on its way,
and it is generally believed to have a very marked and beneficial effect on the climate of Western
Europe.
"I have sketched a brief outline of this very important current, merely to give you some idea of
its course, its immensity, its usefulness. We are chiefly concerned here, however, with the producing
cause of the currents—not with the currents themselves.
"I shall be satisfied if you remember that, as heat is the cause by which winds are produced in
the ocean of air, so heat is again the cause by which currents are produced in the ocean of water."
 Lesson 53
Cotton
Cotton supplies materials for clothing man in all parts of the world—indeed, it clothes more
individuals by far than any other material, and may thus justly take its place among the most abundant
and most important of all materials used for textile goods. It provides not only calico and print,
muslin, lace, hosiery, and similar materials of light texture, but also heavy stout materials fit for men's
wear, such as corduroy, moleskin, fustian, velveteen.
We dealt with some of its properties as a clothing material in our lessons on heat. Among its
other properties it is soft and easily worked; it is warm to the touch, although very light, and when
dirty it can be easily washed.

This valuable product is obtained from the seed-pod of the cotton plant. In the pod the seeds are
packed in a soft, white, downy wool. This is the raw cotton of commerce—the material from which
all our cotton fabrics are made.
There are several varieties of the cotton plant. One kind, which is cultivated chiefly in India and
China, is a tree, and grows to the height of nearly 20 feet; another is a small woody shrub, about the
size of an ordinary currant-bush. The plant which supplies almost all the cotton of commerce is an
annual or herbaceous plant, which grows from seed sown every spring, comes to perfection and
ripens, and dies down in the autumn.
This plant is cultivated largely in the United States, West Indies, Natal, Egypt, Queensland, and
in almost all the warmer parts of the world. Provided only that the climate be dry and warm, it will
succeed in soils too poor for the production of almost any other crops.
 Its leaves are of a rich dark-green, and it bears large, bright-yellow flowers, with a purple spot
in the center, not unlike our hollyhock. When the flower dies it leaves behind a triangular-shaped pod
about the size of a walnut. The seeds which it contains are embedded in the mass of cotton wool.
They are about the size of the seeds of a grape. When pressed they yield oil and oil-cake. When the
plant is fully ripe the pods burst, owing to the swelling of the woolly matter which they contain. It is
then time to gather in the crop. The cotton is picked in the autumn by women and children, who go
through the plantation, from plant to plant, with bags or baskets slung round their necks.
As the pods are plucked, the wool and seeds are removed together, and carried away in baskets
to be dried in the sun. When they are quite dry, the first part of the work of preparation begins by the
separation of the seeds from the woolly down. This is done by a machine called a gin.

There are several varieties of gins. That used in America is the best. It consists of a sort of box,
the bottom of which is formed of strong parallel wires, about one-eighth of an inch apart. Between
these wires a number of circular saws project upwards into the box, which is loosely filled with the
newly-picked cotton. The saws are made to revolve by machinery and, as they turn, their teeth drag
the cotton through the bars, leaving the seeds behind. Some of the seeds are saved for next spring's
sowing; the greater part are crushed for the oil which they contain.
The cotton, thus freed from its seeds, is pressed by powerful machinery into great bales, each
bale weighing about 350 lbs., and is then ready to be shipped to the manufacturer. The raw cotton is
not all of the same quality. One kind, which is more highly prized than all others for the length and
strength of its fiber, is known as long staple. Its fibers are usually about an inch and a half long. The
best variety of the long staple is that known as Sea Island Cotton. It takes its name from the fact that it
was first grown, and is still grown to greatest perfection, on the islands lying off the shores of
Georgia, the soil of which is rich alluvium. In the commoner sorts, known as short staple, the fibers
do not exceed three-quarters of an inch in length.
 Lesson 54
Coverings of Mammals—Furs
In the coats of some mammals the hairs are very fine, soft, and smooth, and grow thick and close
on the skin. Such a covering is called fur. The fur animals belong mostly to the colder regions of the
earth—some of them to the extreme frozen north. Nature has thus provided the very coat that is best
suited to such a climate.
Our lessons on heat showed us that fur is a non-conductor; it protects these animals from the
rigor of the climate by preventing their bodily heat from passing away. All these creatures, like the
rabbit and our domestic cat, partly shed their fur in the summer, so that during the hot weather their
coat is loose and open. With the return of winter the fur coat is renewed as thick and close as ever.
Another very remarkable fact should be noticed in connection with these fur animals. Some of
them, such as the foxes of the Arctic regions, some hares, and the ermine or stoat of our cold
countries, actually change the color of their fur at the approach of winter. After a few days' exposure
to the snow the fur becomes white, not because new white hairs have grown, but because every
existing hair has changed color.
Let us once again carry our minds back to our lessons on heat. In one of those lessons we learned
that white and light-colored substances generally are bad radiators of heat. These white fur coats do
not radiate the bodily heat so quickly as darker-colored fur would.
This, again, is only one part of Nature's beneficent provision. The whiteness of the fur is so like
the snowy surroundings as to afford these creatures a sort of protection against their numerous
prowling enemies. They cannot be easily seen against the white snow all round them.
If the coat of a fur animal be carefully examined, it will be seen that the fur is not all alike. There
is a thick, short, close, silky fur near the skin, and other long, stiff, straight hairs overlying it. The
former is the real fur; the latter is known as the over-hair. This over-hair performs an important duty
in helping to keep the fur somewhat loose, and so preventing it from matting together.
The furs of animals furnish us with one of the richest, warmest, and most beautiful materials for
our own clothing. Many millions of animals are killed every year for the sake of their fur-skins, or
pelts, as they are called.
It is clear, from what has already been said, that the best time for taking these animals is the
winter, for then their coats are at their thickest and best.
A considerable number of the skins are dried and dressed for use with the fur on them. It is
estimated that for this purpose alone no fewer than thirty million pelts are collected every year.
Among the furs used are those of the squirrel, sable, hare, rabbit, ermine (the white winter dress
of the stoat), pole-cat, black-fox, silver-fox, red-fox, blue-fox, beaver, seal, sea-otter, minx, bear,
skunk, marten, and racoon.
Many of these owe their elegance and value chiefly to the length and fineness of the over-hair;
but in the preparation of the seal-skin the over-hair is all cut away.
This is done in a curious way. The skin is stretched out flat with the flesh side uppermost, and
part of the skin is pared or shaved off with a sharp, flat knife. In cutting away this under surface of the
skin, the deeply-embedded roots of the over-hairs are cut through, and it is an easy matter then to pull
out the hairs.

Immense numbers, amounting to many millions, of hare and rabbit skins are used every year in
the manufacture of felt for felt hats. For this purpose the fur only is used. It is first separated from the
skin, and then by means of hot water and pressure the hairs are made to interlace and mat themselves
together so as to form a hard felt.
 Lesson 55
Specific Heat
"We may as well begin our lesson to-day with an experiment," said Mr. Wilson. "It will be a
very simple one, but it will start us on our way. I have here a basin of cold water. We will test it with
the thermometer to find its temperature. Now take the poker, red-hot as it is, and plunge it into the
basin. After stirring it about for a short time, you may remove it from the water. Its heat has all gone;
it is cool. But what has become of the heat? The poker has given up its heat to the water, as we soon
find, with the aid of the thermometer. This instrument at once tells us that the water is warmer than it
was. It has taken in the heat which the poker gave out. The poker and the water are now at the same
temperature.
"Suppose we proceed a little further. I have suspended in this kettle of boiling water a ball of
iron, and another, exactly the same size, of lead. What is the temperature of the boiling water?"
"It is 212℉., sir."
"Quite right; and if we test the balls with the thermometer, they too will show the same
temperature, 212℉. We will now remove both balls, and plunge them into equal quantities of water
from the pipe. What will be the effect of the heated metal balls on this water?"
"I suppose in each case the heat will be given out by the ball and absorbed by the water—the
water will be heated," replied Fred.
"Let us see," continued Mr. Wilson. "The thermometer, as usual, will quickly tell us of any
change in the temperature of the water.
"Yes," he went on, after testing it, "the water in both basins has been heated, but, strange to say,
the iron ball has made the water in the one basin hotter than the lead has made that in the other. This
proves that the iron must have given out more heat than the lead.
"But the iron and the lead both obtained their heat from the same source—the boiling water.
Hence it is clear that the iron is able to take in and hold more heat than the lead.
"The result would be very similar if we substituted any other kind of matter for the iron and the
lead. We should find that some bodies have a greater capacity for holding heat than others. This is
exactly what we mean when we speak of the specific heat of different bodies.
"We can now take another step. I have here some ice-cold water; the thermometer standing in it
registers 32℉. I am going to measure equal quantities of this, and of boiling water from the kettle, and
mix the two together in this basin. Let us see what the thermometer has to tell us about the mixture.
The temperature of the mixture is 122°. Now the difference between 212° and 32° is 180°. The hot
water gives up, and the cold water receives, exactly half of this, i.e. 90°. Hence the ice-cold water
increases its temperature from 32° to 122°, and the boiling water lessens its temperature from 212° to
122°.
"It is important to remember that the result would be exactly the same if we mixed equal
quantities of any liquid—oil with oil, or mercury with mercury. The quantity of heat which the hot
liquid gives out in cooling through a certain number of degrees is just what is required to raise the
temperature of the cool liquid through the same number of degrees.
"Let us next take equal quantities of different liquids, say mercury and water, the mercury being
heated to a temperature of 212°, the water standing at 32°. On mixing these, and testing the mixture
with the thermometer as before, we shall find the new temperature to be a little below 38°. That is,
the water, in this instance, will have gained only about 6° in temperature, although the mercury has
been lowered from 212° to the same temperature as the water, viz. 38°.
"That is to say, the mercury has lost 212°－38°=174°, and all this heat has been absorbed by the
water for the purpose of increasing its own temperature from 32° to 38°(6°).
"If, on the other hand, we took water at 212°, and mercury at 32°, and mixed them in equal
quantities, we should find the resulting temperature of the mixture to be about 206°. The water would
part with only about 6° of its heat, but this would be sufficient to raise the temperature of the mercury
from 32° to 206°, so that the quantity of heat which is sufficient to raise the temperature of mercury
174° will raise an equal amount of water through only 6°.
"This shows, by another method, that water has a greater capacity for taking up and holding heat
than mercury. We say that the specific heat of water is higher than that of mercury."
 Lesson 56
The Cotton Manufacture
In our country cotton has flourished ever since the first years of settlement, but our exports of the
fiber did not begin till 1770. In that year the first shipment of 20,000 lbs. was made. The great
invention of the cotton gin by Eli Whitney in 1793, and the cheapening of the process of cultivation, as
well as of cleansing, increased our exports to 17,789,803 lbs. in 1800, and to 3,450,000,000 lbs. in
1890.
When, nearly three hundred years ago, the cotton manufacture was first introduced into Europe,
all the work was done by hand. It is now almost entirely accomplished by machinery and steam.
Abundance of cheap coal is therefore an essential, and this is commonly supplied by the coal-fields in
the neighborhood of the great centres of manufacture.
If we examine a piece of calico side by side with some raw cotton-wool, we shall see, from the
nature of the fabric, that the whole work of manufacture resolves itself into two great processes. The
short, matted fibers of the raw cotton must be formed into lengths of yarn or thread, and these threads
must be woven into a web.
It would be impossible to attempt to convey a notion of the intricate machinery by which the
various processes are carried out. We must be content with trying to grasp the broad principles on
which they are worked.
The first step, then, towards making the tangled fibers of the raw cotton into yarn must be to
draw them out and separate them. This is done in a machine called a willow, which is practically a
large box in which rollers, fitted with iron spikes, are made to revolve rapidly. The raw cotton is put
into the box, and the spikes, as they revolve, catch it up, tear and loosen the fibers, and shake it free
from dust and dirt. From the willow the loosened fibers are passed on to the carding machine, which
consists of a number of revolving brushes made of iron wire. Carding is only another word for
combing or brushing. The work of the carding machine is to brush out, and lay straight and parallel,
the cotton fibers, just as a girl brushes out her long hair. The carded cotton passes out from this
machine like a thin, white film, and is called a sliver. The slivers are taken to another machine, in
which they are gradually drawn out and slightly twisted again and again by a process called roving,
till they are longer, stronger, and finer than they were. In this state they are ready to be spun into yarn.
In the spinning-machine the rove (as the loose thread is called) is lengthened and strengthened, by
being still further twisted, and it leaves the spinner as yarn, ready for the weaver's loom. The strong
sewing-cotton, which is used for needlework, is made of several yarns twisted together.
Our lessons on flax and linen-making, in one of the earlier stages, made us familiar with the
broad principles which underlie the process of weaving. You, no doubt, remember that in all woven
fabrics the web consists of two sets of threads, arranged at right angles to each other, one called the
warp, the other the weft or woof.
If we examine a large piece of calico as it comes from the draper, we shall see on either side a
finished edge or border, which will not unravel. We call it the selvage. The material was woven in
one long piece, probably hundreds of yards in length, but the width of the piece is the same
throughout, and is marked by this selvage, or self-edge.
 The threads of the warp are arranged by stretching a number of rests, or bobbins of yarn, side by
side between two yarn-rollers, one in front, the other at the back of the loom. The warp, when finally
arranged, tells the width of the intended fabric. The thread which is to form the woof is wound on a
shuttle—a sort of reel pointed at each end.
The first thing, after seeing the warp arranged and the woof wound on the shuttle, is to strengthen
the threads by giving them a dressing of that peculiar kind of size called starch gum, which we have
spoken of many times as a preparation from baked starch.
This done, the weaver takes his place in front of one of the yarn-rollers, which is called the
cloth-beam, and begins the work. We have omitted, however, to notice one point—an important one.
Before the weaving begins, the warp is attached to a sort of movable frame, called a heddle, in such a
way that the alternate threads can be raised or lowered at will. One set of the threads are raised while
the alternate threads are lowered, and lowered while they are raised.
The weaver passes the shuttle, with its woof, from right to left between these two sets of threads
—that is, over one set and under the others. Then the heddle is made to change the positions of these
alternate threads, lowering one set and raising the others, after which the shuttle is returned between
the two as before, and so the work goes on.

There is but one thread of the woof or weft, and it is carried from side to side by the shuttle. The
fact of its passing each time between the alternate sets of warp threads forms the selvage at the sides
of the cloth. It is important to remember that this is the mode of working the simple hand-loom. All
our woven goods are now made in enormous, steam power-looms worked by machinery too intricate
for us to consider here. But if we can follow the working of the hand-loom, we shall be able to
understand the principle of even the ponderous machinery of our great cotton mills.
 Lesson 57
The Effects of the Differences in Specific Heat
"Our last lesson on heat showed us that different bodies have different capacities for taking in
and holding heat," began Mr. Wilson, "and we learned to speak of this as the specific heat of such
bodies. We are now going to learn some of the effects of these differences.
"Let us begin again with a simple experiment. Here are two small test-tubes, one containing
water, the other an equal quantity of mercury, both being at the same temperature, as may be seen by
the small thermometer standing in each. I will plunge both of them into the kettle of water which is
boiling over the spirit-lamp. The thermometers in the tubes will indicate their rise in temperature. As
we watch, the mercury in the one tube is seen to reach 212℉ (the temperature of the boiling water) in
about half the time that the water in the other tube takes.
"We will now remove both tubes from the heat, and leave them to cool down from their present
temperature (212°). The mercury cools twice as rapidly through the same number of degrees as the
water does.
"Hence we see that water takes twice as long as mercury to reach a certain temperature, and is
twice as long in cooling. The same thing would happen with the lead and iron balls, which we used in
our former lesson. The lead cannot take up so much heat as the iron. It would therefore reach the
temperature of the boiling water in much less time than the iron. As, moreover, it cannot hold so much
heat as the iron, it has less to part with when it cools, and, consequently, the cooling goes on more
rapidly than it would in the iron.
"We might expose a variety of substances to the same source of heat—say by placing them in
front of the same fire—and we should find that some would rise in temperature more slowly than
others. If we removed them in their heated state, at the same moment, into a cold room, those which
had grown hot slowly would also cool slowly, and vice versa, because those which have a greater
capacity for holding heat than others, have more to take up in heating, and more to part with in
cooling, and must therefore take longer.
"Water, as we have seen, has a high specific heat. That is to say, in rising through any number of
degrees in temperature, it necessarily takes in an immense quantity of heat, and hence it takes longer
to get hot and longer to grow cool than other bodies.
"Think of the oceans, rivers, and lakes all over the world, with their countless multitudes of
living inhabitants. It is this high specific heat of water which makes rapid elevation or depression of
temperature in them impossible.
"Picture, on the other hand, an ocean of mercury, under the rays of a tropical sun. Even if it were
otherwise habitable, the creatures in it could never live through such sudden changes in temperature
as would certainly take place. Such a liquid would be quite uninhabitable.
"During the cold season of the year, on the other hand, the sea and all great bodies of water cool.
But in cooling they have a great quantity of heat to give out for every degree they lose in temperature.
Hence they cool very slowly, and while cooling, the heat which they give out tends to equalize the
temperature of the adjoining land.
"Mercury has a low specific heat. A comparatively small quantity of heat is sufficient to raise its
temperature through any given number of degrees. Hence it rises and falls in temperature very rapidly.
It is this which makes mercury so peculiarly useful for filling thermometers."
 Lesson 58
Coverings Of Mammals—Wool
The woolly fleece of the sheep is another modification of the common covering—hair. It has
been used for making textile fabrics from very early ages, and for this purpose it is obtained from the
animal, not only after its death, but also by shearing during its lifetime.
If we examine a handful of wool, we shall find it more or less wavy in appearance, while at the
same time it is light and flexible, softer than ordinary hair, and very elastic.
Our lesson on heat showed us wool as a non-conductor. We place our hand on some wool, and
we at once feel a sensation of warmth. Why does the wool feel warm? It is not because this substance
is warmer in itself than any other we may handle. The thermometer, as you are aware, would register
exactly the same temperature wrapped in wool as in a cold-feeling linen handkerchief. But the wool,
being a non-conductor, does not rob the hand of its heat as conducting bodies do, and for this reason it
feels warm, to the touch.
The thick, yet light fleece of non-conducting wool is Nature's admirable provision for this one of
her creatures— the sheep, which is destined for the colder parts of the temperate zones, where all the
year round, in all weather, it spends night and day in the open air, its favorite haunts, even there, being
the bleak and breezy uplands of the country.
If a fiber of wool is examined with the aid of a good microscope, rows of scales will be seen
covering it, and overlapping one another, something like the scales of a snake's skin, except that the
scales themselves project outwards, and thus give the fiber a more or less serrated appearance. This
scaly nature of its fibers is one of the most important characteristics of wool. It is one, moreover,
which is not met with in any other textile material; the fibers of flax and cotton are smooth.

Even wool itself varies in the nature and abundance of its scales, and it is this which constitutes
the different equalities of the material.
In a specimen of Saxony or fine Australian wool, the fibers are always found to be rather short,
and very curly or wavy in character. This class of wool is known as short-staple. If one of its fibers
were examined under the microscope, it would show a profusion of scales. In some of the finest kinds
there are no less than 2500 to the inch, and the fibers have a very serrated or saw-like appearance.

In the English wool the fibers are longer, coarser, and less wavy. It is generally described as
long-staple wool. A fiber of this long-staple wool would show under the microscope a much smaller
number of scales and serrations than the short-staple variety.
The word staple refers to the individual fibers of the wool. Hence long or short staple means
simply long or short fiber.
Its properties as a soft, light, flexible, non-conducting substance make wool a valuable material
for clothing purposes. It is made into a great variety of fabrics, but the particular kind of fabric
depends entirely upon the profusion, or otherwise, of its scales.
Think for a moment of those highly serrated fibers of the short-staple wool, with their 2500
scales to the inch. Imagine a number of such fibers crossing each other in opposite directions, and
pressed close together. What would happen?
The projecting scales would catch one in the other, and hold fast. Take a piece of flannel and a
piece of broadcloth, and examine them side by side. Both are made of wool. The flannel may be
easily separated, thread by thread, and fiber by fiber; the cloth is a closely-matted felt, which it is
very difficult to pull asunder.
This difference is entirely due to the scarcity of scaly projections in the fibers of the flannel
material, and to their profusion in the material of the cloth.
It is this one difference which causes wool to yield to the manufacturer two distinct classes of
products. The long-staple wool, possessing few projecting scales, yields flannels, blankets, moreens,
merinos, alpacas, serges, and all kinds of worsted goods. The short-staple wool, with its abundance
of projecting scales, is admirably adapted to felting purposes, and is made into broadcloth,
kerseymere, and a great variety of materials, known under the collective name of woollen goods.
 Lesson 59
Wool—Its Manufacture
Our examination of the different coverings of animals has shown us that Nature not only provides
each creature with a suitable coat, but arranges also for an increased growth of that coat during the
inclement season of the year. The sheep's coat is no exception to the rule; it is at its thickest and best
during the winter. Like all other creatures, however, it would begin to lose its coat, by a natural
shedding of the wool, on the return of warm weather. Instead of leaving the wool, therefore, to fall out
during the summer, the farmer cuts it off each spring. With him the sheep-shearing season is always a
busy one, as the work must be done at the proper time, and will admit of no delay. Think what it must
be to the Australian farmer. A single "squatter's" run in Australia is frequently many miles in extent,
and the sheep on it are numbered by hundreds of thousands. Not only the quality of the wool, but the
health of the sheep themselves, would be affected by delay in the shearing, and consequently there is
great demand for men to do the work.
The shearing process is practically the same everywhere. The sheep are first driven into a
shallow pond, and well washed, after which they are allowed to run about in the sunny fields to dry.
The shearer then cuts away the wool with a large pair of shears, shearing upwards from the under
parts of the body, to the sides, neck, and back.
All the wool from one sheep is called a fleece. The wool from different parts of the fleece
varies much in quality— that from the breast, neck, and back being the best, that from the hinder parts
the least valuable.
The raw wool is very greasy and very dirty; hence the first business in preparing it for the
manufacturer is to thoroughly cleanse it. This is done by boiling it in great coppers, with plenty of
soap to dissolve and separate the grease and dirt.

When this is done, the wool is usually dyed the required color, and then the fibers are torn
asunder by means of revolving iron spikes, until they form a loose, fluffy down.
If we examine a piece of flannel or some other worsted fabric, we find it an easy matter to
separate the material, thread by thread, just as we did the calico and linen. It is just as easy to untwist
the threads themselves, and if we did this, we should find that the fabric is made by practically the
same processes of spinning and weaving, as those with which we have already become familiar.
There is one material difference, however, in the treatment of the two sorts of wool. The short-
staple, wavy, serrated wool is sometimes known as carding-wool; the long-staple as combing-wool.
In the combing process the long, loose fibers are merely drawn out and arranged side by side, as
in the combing of cotton fibers. In the carding of the short-staple wool, care is taken to arrange the
fibers side by side, in such a way that the ends of some and the roots of others lie together, and the
teeth or serrations point in contrary directions. The result of this arrangement is that, when such
threads are twisted to form yarn, the serrations catch one in the other, and prevent them from
untwisting. The spinning and weaving processes are the same for woollen as for worsted goods, but
when a worsted fabric leaves the loom, it is quite finished and ready for use. Not so the piece of
cloth.
If we compare a piece of flannel with a piece of broadcloth, we find the warp and woof threads,
which are so plain in the former, cannot be seen in the latter; the surface is a smooth, close, and
glossy nap. This difference is brought about by the process of fulling or felting. In this process the
cloth is folded and beaten with large, heavy hammers for many hours—even days. This causes the
fibres of the wool to felt or mat together, so that the cross threads of warp and woof are no longer
visible, the little serrations on the fibers being the real cause of the felting.
Of course, this folding and beating of the woven material tends to thicken it considerably, and at
the same time makes it shrink, both in length and breadth.
After fulling, the nap of the cloth is raised in a curious way. A great number of the flower-heads
(seed-vessels) of the teasel, a plant something like a thistle, are fixed to a large, broad wheel, which
is made to pass very rapidly over the cloth, so that the teasels sweep its surface continually. The
teasels are covered with little elastic hooks, and these, as they sweep over the cloth, catch up the
loose fibers of the wool, and make them stand as a nap. This raised nap is then made smooth and
level by means of shears, after which all that remains to be done is to damp, brush, and press it, so as
to give it a soft, smooth, glossy surface.
科学读本（英文原版）第六册
 第六册

目录
Lesson 01 The Forces of Nature
Lesson 02 Elements and Compounds
Lesson 03 The Blood and its Work
Lesson 04 Plants Useful for Food (Ⅰ)
Lesson 05 Machines
Lesson 06 Nature of an Element
Lesson 07 The Blood-Vessels of the Body
Lesson 08 Plants Useful for Food (Ⅱ)
Lesson 09 The Lever
Lesson 10 Chemical Combination
Lesson 11 The Heart
Lesson 12 Plants Useful for Food (Ⅲ)
Lesson 13 Animals Useful for Food
Lesson 14 First Order of Levers
Lesson 15 Combustion
Lesson 16 Oxidation Of the Waste Tissues
Lesson 17 Plants Useful for Food (Ⅳ)
Lesson 18 Animal Food—Sources of Supply
Lesson 19 Second Order of Levers
Lesson 20 Water, a Compound of Oxygen and Hydrogen
Lesson 21 The Lungs
Lesson 22 Wool
Lesson 23 Third Order of Levers
Lesson 24 Air, a Mixture of Gases
Lesson 25 Varieties of Wool
Lesson 26 The Work of Breathing
Lesson 27 The Pulley
Lesson 28 Chlorine
Lesson 29 The Woollen Manufacture
Lesson 30 The Movable Pulley
Lesson 31 Plants Useful for Food (Ⅴ)
Lesson 32 Carbon
Lesson 33 Leather—Hides
Lesson 34 The Wheel and Axle
Lesson 35 Waste and Repair
Lesson 36 Leather—Skins
Lesson 37 Sulphur
Lesson 38 Plants Useful for Food (Ⅵ)
Lesson 39 The Inclined Plane
Lesson 40 Bones
Lesson 41 Digestion
Lesson 42 Phosphorus
Lesson 43 Ivory
Lesson 44 The Wedge
Lesson 45 Beverages—Infused Drinks
Lesson 46 The Screw
Lesson 47 Horns
Lesson 48 Absorption
Lesson 49 Beverages—Fermented Drinks
Lesson 50 Water as a Machine
Lesson 51 Tallow and Offal of Animals
Lesson 52 Acids
Lesson 53 Plant-Fibers for Spun and Woven Goods
Lesson 54 Furs
Lesson 55 The Hydrostatic Press
Lesson 56 Fur and the Fur Trade
Lesson 57 Bases, Alkalies, Salts
Lesson 58 The Whale and its Products
Lesson 59 Silk and the Silk-Worm
返回总目录
 Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with finest ears, and listen to the
sweetest voices of all time.
—James Russell Lowell
 Lesson 01
The Forces of Nature
The examinations were over, the class promotions were all made, and the boys (especially those
of the upper classes) were looking forward with considerable eagerness to the new year's course, on
which they were about to embark. None were more eager and enthusiastic than our young friends the
two cousins, whom we have watched with so much pride and pleasure year after year.
"There is just one thing more to do," said Mr. Wilson, "and then we can settle down to work. We
must have the desk brought into our new room. Put your shoulder to it, Fred, and push it along. What!
can't you move it?" he said again, as he saw Fred exerting all his strength to no purpose. "One or two
of you help him. That's right; you can push it along easy now."
Sure enough they did go easily—in fact a little too easily, as boys very frequently do; for Mr.
Wilson was just in time to prevent them from running the desk into the glass front of the museum
cupboard. This he did by pushing hard at the side of the desk, so as to change the direction in which it
was moving, and make it veer off sideways. Then by exerting all his strength, and pushing in the
opposite direction to that in which the boys were pushing, he brought the desk to a standstill, and the
cupboard was saved. It was all the work of a minute, and the boys scarcely knew what had happened
till Mr. Wilson said sternly, "Boys, you should be more careful; I did not wish you to push like that."
After they had got to work, however, he thought over the little incident, and determined to make use of
it to introduce his first lesson in the new science course.
When the time for the lesson came round, he began by calling the attention of the class to the
moving of the desk, and showed them that in order to move the heavy body at all it was necessary for
them to make an effort—to put out their strength. "Whenever we lift a heavy weight, whenever we set
a body in motion, whenever we stop a body that is already in motion, we are conscious of exerting
some effort. The name which we give to this effort is force. We say that force is any cause which
tends to move a body, to change the direction of its movement, or to arrest it when in motion. The
particular kind of force which you used just now in moving the desk was your own bodily strength.
This we call muscular force.
"Fred tried to move the desk alone, but he found his muscular force was not sufficient, and I
called upon some of you to help him. Uniting your exertions with his, and pushing in the same
direction, you were able to propel the desk along the floor, but as soon as I began to push it at the side
there was a change in the direction of its movement, and when I pushed in the opposite direction to
you, it had the effect of bringing the desk to a standstill. I was exerting muscular force as well as you;
that force, acting on a certain point of the desk, was able to change the course of its movement; when
applied at another point it arrested its movement altogether.
"Man, in his primitive state, learned first to use this muscular force. In fact, the only force he
employed was his own muscular force, and that of the animals he subdued. Savage nations of today
know very little of any other forces beyond this.
"But civilized man gradually learned, and is learning still, that there are many wonderful forces
existing around him, and his ingenuity teaches him how to utilize them. His observation soon taught
him, for example, that wind is a force, and after a time he learned to turn this force to account in
various ways. In like manner, things floating down a stream suggested to him the force of running
water, and this became, through his ingenuity, another powerful working agent.
"In fact, science has taught man gradually to utilize these and other forces, such as gravity,
cohesion, heat, steam, chemical force, magnetism, electricity. We group these all under the name of
natural forces, i.e. the forces of nature.
"Let us go back once more to the work of moving the desk. When Fred tried to do it we might
have noticed three things: first, he applied force to a particular part of the desk; secondly, he pushed
in a certain direction; and, thirdly, when his own muscular force was insufficient, he increased it by
the help of more force, and so did the work. In all our attempts to utilize a force, these same three
things must be considered— (1) its point of application, i.e. the portion of matter on which it acts; (2)
its direction; (3) its intensity or magnitude. In almost every instance a force can only be turned to
account after we have altered it in one or other, or all of these particulars, to suit our requirements.

"This will be readily understood by a glance at the construction and working of a windmill or a
watermill. The essential part of either mill is the great millstone, which has to be set in motion. The
force to accomplish this work is, in one case, the wind, in the other the running water. The wind-force
acts on the sails, the water-force on the large wheel; and the millstone cannot, in either case, move till
the force is transmitted to itself.
 "But not only must the force be transmitted to the stone, its direction must be changed. The sails
of the one and the wheel of the other revolve vertically, the millstone horizontally. The whole
contrivance of the mill is to effect these changes in the force, and so render it available for the work
of grinding corn.
 "We call any contrivance for transmitting a force from one point to another, or for altering the
direction of movement, a machine."
 Lesson 02
Elements and Compounds
"This morning we are going to commence a series of simple lessons in chemistry," said Mr.
Wilson, and the boys were at once full of curiosity as to what they were to expect next.
"Let us begin with some of the red powder in this bottle. We call it red oxide of mercury. I think
you know something about it already. I will put a little of it into this test-tube, and heat it over the
flame of the Bunsen burner."
"You showed us this experiment once before, sir," said Fred, "and I remember that by heating the
solid powder over the flame you can make it give off an entirely different substance—a gas—and that
gas is oxygen."
"Quite right, Fred, and oxygen is now passing off from the red powder while I heat it. Our
present business, however, is not to collect the gas for further experiment, as we did in our other
lesson, but merely to show that it is coming off. How can I do this?"
"If you plunge a red-hot splinter of wood into the mouth of the tube, sir, we shall soon see
whether the tube contains oxygen."
"Very well, my lad, you come and do it," said Mr. Wilson. Fred did so, and immediately the red-
hot splinter burst into a brilliant glow, thereby proving the presence of oxygen.
"We know, then," continued Mr. Wilson, "that this solid, dry red powder contains the gas—
oxygen. But what are these little silvery-white, shining globules all round the sides of the tube? They
look like little balls of silver. They are not at all like the red powder we put into the tube. If we
continued to heat the powder till we could get no more oxygen from it, and then stood the tube aside
for a while to cool, we should be able to scrape off and pour out the shining little balls and leave the
vessel empty. Moreover, as we poured out these tiny silvery balls, they would run together and form a
little pool of liquid metal—the metal mercury. The red powder, therefore, which is a mass of minute
solid particles, contains a liquid metal—mercury, and a gas—oxygen. We call it oxide of mercury.
"But not only so. It has been found to be impossible, either by still further heating the powder or
by any other treatment, to make it yield anything but these two substances—mercury and oxygen. We
say, therefore, that oxide of mercury is a compound substance; it is made up of two other substances
—mercury and oxygen. The red powder may be actually made by heating the metal mercury in a
closed vessel. The metal, as it is heated, robs the air in contact with it of its oxygen, the two
substances unite, and form the entirely new body—oxide of mercury. The process is long and tedious,
and takes two or three days to complete. Hence we shall not attempt to do it now. I merely want you
to know that it can be done.
"Let us take another experiment. I have here two lumps of chalk. I will place one piece in the
middle of the fire, where it is bright and red; and while it is heating we will deal with the other piece
on the table.
"I want you to carry your minds back to an experiment I once showed you with some chalk by
pouring over it dilute hydrochloric acid. I put the pieces of chalk into a bottle, covered them with
water, and added some hydrochloric acid, till little bubbles began to form all round the chalk."
"Oh, I remember, sir," said Will. "You made the chalk give off carbonic acid gas; that was what
the bubbles were. You collected the gas in a bottle that stood on the table."
"Perfectly true, my lad," said Mr. Wilson, "and I will do the same thing now, in a somewhat
different way. As, however, I do not wish to collect the carbonic acid gas this time, but merely to
show that it is actually passing off, it will be sufficient to put the chalk into a basin and pour the liquid
over it. You can see the bubbles rising up through the liquid. Those bubbles are bubbles of carbonic
acid gas, and that gas came from the solid chalk.
"Your earlier lessons have made you familiar with the fact that this carbonic acid gas is
composed of two substances—the solid substance, carbon, and the gas, oxygen. We can make it for
ourselves by burning carbon in oxygen. Therefore carbonic acid gas is itself a compound substance.
"Let us next turn our attention to the lump of chalk which I placed in the fire. I will take it out
now with the tongs, and stand it on this iron tray.
"As soon as it is cool I will pour some of the dilute hydrochloric acid on it as we did on the
other. It does not give off bubbles of gas as the other did, you see. Why not? The heat of the fire has
driven off all the carbonic acid it contained, and the substance we have here now is not chalk. It is
lime. In its present state we call it quicklime.
"So then chalk is a compound substance, made of lime and carbonic acid, and you have already
learned that carbonic acid is itself a compound of carbon and oxygen. Chalk, therefore, consists of
lime, carbon, and oxygen.
"Now, instead of dilute acid, I will pour water on this hard, solid quicklime. Watch what
happens.

"The water instantly disappears—it seems to be sucked up by the quicklime; tremendous heat is
generated, and the solid substance falls away in powder. This powder we call slaked lime.
"Let us see what has happened. The solid substance, quicklime, has become united with water.
We say that the two have combined to form a new compound substance—slaked lime."
 Lesson 03
The Blood and its Work
"We have learned, in the course of our lessons, a great many things, in a simple way, about our
body, both in regard to its structure and the work it has to do.
We shall now enter into a more detailed investigation of the functions of the principal vital
organs.
The body is a sort of living machine. Some part or other of it is always at work, night and day,
sleeping and waking; for even when we are asleep the heart and lungs cannot rest—their work must
go on, and that work must be guided and controlled by some part of the nervous system.
We know too, from our earlier lessons, that all bodily work is done at the expense of the
substance of the body itself. Every act of our daily life, the movement even of a finger, the flashing of
a single thought through the brain, or the blinking of an eyelid, destroys some of the substance of the
body.
Think of a steam-engine at work. It is the fuel in its furnace and the water in its boiler that enable
it to perform its work, but the living machine works at the expense of its own substance. Each little
particle of brain, nerve, muscle, or skin, moreover, having once performed a certain work, becomes
henceforth worn-out, dead matter. Our body lives by dying—some part of the body is dying every
moment. Notwithstanding this constant destruction of the substance of the body, a person in good
health varies very little in size and weight for years. The reason for this is that all over the body there
is not only constant waste, but constant renewal. Bit by bit, every part of the body—muscle, brain,
bone—is not only being destroyed by work done, but, as it is destroyed, it is renewed or built up
again in its original form.
This building-up work is done by the blood. If I prick myself in any part of my body, blood will
flow. There is blood in all parts of the body, and it is this blood which builds up what has been worn
out. It carries all the materials for building the various tissues.
To the muscles it gives certain particular materials for making muscle; to the bones it gives up
other materials for making bone; in the brain and nerves it leaves other materials again for making
nerve matter, and so on. But it never leaves bone-making materials for building up muscle, brain, or
nerve; nor does it take to the ear what is wanted for the eye. It never makes mistakes.
We know that there is blood all over the body. But this blood does not stand in the body, as
water stands in some vessel; nor is it still and stagnant. It is a restless stream, incessantly on the
move, bringing to every part the materials required for building purposes, and carrying away
whatever is no longer wanted there. As long as life lasts this stream of the blood must flow on.
We say that the blood circulates. We mean to say by this that it does not merely pass through the
body like a stream and disappear, but is carried round and round, over and over again, very much in
the same way as the hot water circulates through the pipes provided for it in a large building. This
thought leads us to the fact that the blood itself circulates through a system of pipes. These pipes
commence at the heart, and form a complete circuit through the body and back to the heart again,
penetrating into every part except the nails, the hair, and the enamel coating of the teeth. Our hair and
nails do not bleed when they are cut.
 These pipes have the one common name—blood-vessels, although they are not alike, either in
structure or the work they have to do.
The heart is the center of the circulation. Those blood-vessels through which blood flows from
the heart to other parts of the body are called arteries. Those which bring blood back again to the
heart are veins.
Both arteries and veins branch out continually into smaller and smaller vessels the farther they
get from the heart. Between the smallest branches of the arteries and veins are multitudes of extremely
fine tubes, like the most delicate hollow hairs. These are called capillaries. The word capillary, as
you know, comes from a word that means a hair.
The constant stream of the blood, then, flows from the heart, along the arteries, into every part of
the body. The arteries are continually splitting up into smaller and smaller branching tubes, until at
last they become the merest hair-like vessels, the capillaries.
The blood continues to flow through these capillaries, and is collected up, as it flows, by the
smallest branches of the veins. The veins gradually unite into larger and larger pipes, as they get
nearer the heart, and at last discharge the blood which they carry into the heart itself. From what we
have already said about the heart, you will be prepared to learn that it is a hollow vessel. You have
all, I suppose, seen a sheep's heart.
It will be sufficient for us now to remember that the heart does the work of a pump. It is
constantly at work pumping blood into the arteries. From the first dawn of life till death takes us, the
heart never rests for a single minute from its pumping.
 Lesson 04
Plants Useful for Food (Ⅰ)
In no part of our daily wants do we show our dependence on the vegetable kingdom so much as
in our food. All our food is, directly or indirectly, of vegetable origin; although we eat the flesh of
certain animals, the animals themselves derived their support, all through their lives, from plants of
one kind or another.
Man, in every part of the globe, makes bread of some kind his staple food and, although the
bread is not always made of the same sort of material, it is in every case a vegetable substance.
The cereals, or corn grains, form the bread-making materials for the greater part of civilized
mankind. Indeed, they provide the staple food of more than four-fifths of the population of the globe.
These grains contain two important food materials—starch and gluten. One, you already know, is
valuable as a fuel-food, the other as a tissue-forming food. The various corn grains owe their relative
importance as food-stuffs chiefly to the amount of gluten which they contain.
The gluten of the grain always resides in the outer part, immediately under the skin or husk. This
explains why the bran of English wheat, which consists largely of this outer skin, contains more gluten
than the finest white flour. Fine white flour is obtained only by sifting the meal through sieves after it
is ground. The sifting removes all the particles of bran. Sometimes the meal is used without sifting,
just as it leaves the mill, in fact. It is then known as whole-meal.
The bran of English wheat contains 16 percent gluten; the whole-meal 12 percent; fine white
flour rarely contains 10 percent. Bread, therefore, made from whole-meal is more nutritious than that
made from fine, sifted, white flour.
Reference has been made to the relative value of the corn grains, and it will be well now to
compare them one with another. Oatmeal is very rich in gluten; it contains about 16 percent of this
substance—that is, about the same proportion as we find in the bran of English wheat.
Barley and rye contain about the same proportion of gluten as is met with in wheaten flour, but
the meal of both is coarser in flavor and color, and the bread made from them, instead of being light
and spongy, is heavy and close. Rye forms the chief food of the masses in Russia. In this country it is
grown, and cut green for feeding horses.
Rice is remarkable among the corn grains for containing the smallest proportion of gluten. Even
in the undressed rice, or paddy, such as is eaten by the people of the East, there is not more than 7 or
8 percent—about half the amount we find in oatmeal, and the grain as we use it contains much less,
because, with the removal of the outer skin, much of the gluten is also removed.
Maize contains only about 9 percent gluten, but it is richer in fatty or oily matter than any of the
other grains. This makes it more easy of digestion, and it is well adapted for fattening animals.
Let us see now how Nature suits her foods to the requirements of the various populations of the
world.
Rice forms the food of fully one-third of the entire human race. The majority of these people
inhabit the tropical and sub-tropical regions of the world. From the nature of the climate, they are
unable to undergo the physical and mental labors which form the everyday life of man in the more
temperate climates; hence the bodily wear and tear are less, and the need of nutrition also less. Rice,
with its small proportion of gluten, contains sufficient nutriment for such people. The nature of the hot
climate, moreover, has a relaxing effect on the system; rice, containing as it does very little fat, is less
relaxing than any other of the corn grains—indeed, it is rather binding than relaxing in its effect. It is
therefore just the food suitable for such people and such climates. How remarkable and wonderful
then it seems that Nature should supply this special food, so peculiarly adapted to the needs of the
people, in those very localities where the other corn grains could not be grown. Notwithstanding all
this, Europeans in those countries have frequently been astonished at the enormous quantities of rice
which the natives are obliged to devour at a meal, because of the small amount of the necessary gluten
which the grain contains.
In cold, bracing climates, such as that of Scotland, oatmeal forms the staple article of diet. But
this same food would not be found suitable in warmer and more relaxing climates, because oatmeal
itself has a decidedly relaxing effect. Here again we see that the special food which Nature provides
is a hardy plant, able to withstand the rigor of the climate in which wheat cannot be grown.
Owing to the density of the British population, it would be quite impossible for the country to
provide sufficient homegrown corn. They therefore import largely from other countries. England's
total imports of wheat amount to upwards of sixty-five million cwt. (hundredweights) annually. The
United States are England's chief granary, but Russia, India, Canada, South Australia, and Cape
Colony all contribute. Maize is imported to the extent of about two million tons every year. It is a
most useful grain, but it will not ripen in England's climate. It is mostly used as corn flour, Oswego,
and maizena—preparations for making blancmanges, puddings, and biscuits. Of late years, maize has
been in great demand for the preparation of glucose, a kind of sugar used in brewing and
confectionary.
England imports annually from six to ten million cwt. of barley, mostly from the northern
countries of Europe. It is chiefly used in brewing, and for feeding cattle and poultry.
About three million acres in Great Britain are devoted to the cultivation of oats, and in addition
to this they import largely.
Buckwheat is extensively grown in America, and makes very nutritious flour. In the backwoods
of America it is made into delicious cakes, which are eaten hot with maple-honey. England imports
buckwheat for feeding poultry.
Dari, or dhoora, is a small kind of grain, which is largely cultivated by the people of India,
Egypt, and Central Africa for their own use. It is commonly known as millet, and yields a beautiful
white meal, containing from 8 to 9 percent gluten.
 Lesson 05
Machines
"We closed our lesson on the Forces of Nature," said Mr. Wilson, "by glancing at the windmill
and the water-mill—two contrivances by means of which man is enabled to utilize for his own benefit
the natural forces, wind and running water.

"Without attempting to inquire into the precise manner in which these mills accomplish their
work, we were content to learn through them a new name—machine. We learned that any contrivance
for transmitting a force from one point to another, or for altering the direction of movement, is a
machine. Let us now take another example.
"A workman wants to raise a basket of bricks or a pail of mortar from the ground to the scaffold
at the top of the building where he is working. He does not wish to descend and remount the ladder,
so he lowers a rope. One end of this is hooked on to the basket, and he raises the weight by his own
muscular force. This force is actually applied at the upper end of the rope, but the rope transmits the
force to the basket. Hence the rope is a machine. It changes the point of application from the upper
end of the rope to the basket at the bottom.
"It is important to remember that the man raises the basket in this way by exerting a direct
upward force, greater than the force of gravity caused by its weight, which is tending to pull it
downwards.
 "We will now proceed with a little experiment. I have here a simple contrivance, consisting of a
small wheel with a hollow, grooved circumference, the wheel itself being fixed to a bracket. I will
pass this cord round the wheel, and to each end of the cord attach a pound weight. The weights, when
left to themselves, balance each other; there is a downward force of one pound on either side of the
wheel.
"Now I will hang a small weight (this half-ounce weight will do) on one side. That, and the
pound weight together, immediately overcome the weight on the other side; they fall and it rises. We
will now return to the workman's scaffold, and imagine such a wheel set up there. Two baskets of
bricks, both pulling downwards by the force of gravity, would balance each other; but one brick more
in either basket would cause that one to sink and the other to rise.
"Suppose the man were to unhook one of the baskets. How could he manage to keep the other in
its original position?"
"To do this he would have to pull downwards, just as the basket did, and with the same force,
sir," replied Fred.
"Exactly, and if he pulled a little harder, what would happen then?"
"I suppose the basket on the other side would rise, sir."
"Yes, Fred, it would; that is to say, the man by pulling the cord downwards over the wheel,
exerts an upward force on the basket at its opposite end, and causes it to rise. In other words, the
wheel and the cord constitute a machine, for they change the point of application, and they alter the
direction of the force.
 "Workmen usually employ this means of raising their materials to the scaffold, because it is
easier to pull downwards than it is to lift the entire weight upwards.
"It frequently happens, however, that the men have to raise heavy masses of material (such as
great sheets of lead, or coils of leaden pipe) which it is impossible for them to lift from the ground
with only their own muscular force. We will see how they do it. Let us return to our wheel and cord
experiment. I will take one part of the cord, as it hangs over the fixed wheel, pass it round and under a
similar loose wheel, and then fasten the end of it to the beam above. Here we have a contrivance
consisting of a fixed and a movable wheel, with the same cord passing round both. When I pull at the
other extremity of the cord, the second wheel actually moves up as the cord is pulled down.
"Now, we will hook a 2 lbs. weight to the movable wheel, and a 1 lb. weight to the free end of
the cord. When left to themselves the two weights balance each other. It would be just the same if we
used 4 lbs. and 2 lbs., 100 lbs. and 50 lbs. They would balance, and the slightest additional weight
hung on the end of the cord would cause the movable wheel with its heavier load to rise.
"This is the kind of contrivance used for raising heavy weights. With such a contrivance fixed to
the scaffold, men are enabled, by pulling downwards at the end of a cord, to raise a heavy mass of
material, which they could not possibly lift without help. Such a contrivance is a machine. The men
apply the force at one end of the rope; it is transmitted to the other. The force is applied downwards;
the heavy mass is raised upwards. The small force exerted by the men is increased in magnitude or
intensity, so that it is enabled to raise a much heavier weight than it could without such a machine.
"We employ a vast number of machines to do an almost endless variety of work. Some of them
are very complicated. But however complicated they may appear to be, they are all found on
examination to be made up of a few simple contrivances, which have been invented for the purpose of
altering force in one or more of the ways we have mentioned."
 Lesson 06
Nature of an Element
"The other day I tried to make clear to you the meaning of the term compound," said Mr. Wilson,
"and we must go back this morning to the experiments I showed you then. In our first experiment we
made one compound body— red oxide of mercury—resolve itself into two distinct substances—the
liquid metal, mercury, and a gas, oxygen.
"No one has ever been able, by any treatment, to split up either of these substances into simpler
kinds of matter. It is impossible to get anything from oxygen but oxygen, and it is equally impossible
to get anything from mercury but mercury. Hence we say that oxygen and mercury are elements.
"In our second experiment we separated chalk into two distinct substances—lime and carbonic
acid gas. The solid lime can be further split up into oxygen and a metal called calcium. This calcium,
which is a metal somewhat resembling sodium, cannot, by any kind of treatment, be made to yield
anything but calcium. Hence we say that calcium is an element, and lime is an oxide of calcium.
"The other constituent of the chalk—carbonic acid gas—is, as we already know, a compound in
itself. It is composed of the solid substance, carbon, and the element, oxygen. Carbon is a simple
body, and will yield nothing but carbon. It cannot be split up or separated into anything else. Thus we
know that carbon is an element.
"If you will now carry your mind back to some of our former lessons, I think you will be able to
remember a very simple-looking substance, and, moreover, one of the commonest substances in
nature, which is a compound, formed of two distinct bodies."
"I suppose you mean water, sir," said Fred, "for I remember that water is formed of the two
gases, hydrogen and oxygen. Hydrogen is an inflammable gas, and when it burns in oxygen or in the
air, the product of the burning is water. Water, therefore, must be a compound body, made of the two
substances, hydrogen and oxygen."
"Yes, Fred, you are quite right; water was the very body I had in my thoughts. Now, as regards
one of its constituents— oxygen—we already know that it is an element. Hydrogen, likewise, is a
body in its simplest form. Nothing can, by any means, be got from hydrogen but hydrogen; we
therefore place it among the elements.
"The chemist has been able, by experimenting on various substances—solid, liquid, and gaseous
—which exist in, on, and around the earth, to find about sixty-four distinct elements or simple bodies.
That is to say, the earth and all it contains are built up of these sixty-four elements.
"Some of these elements, such as oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and chlorine, are gases; mercury is
a liquid, but most of them are solids.
"Among the solid elements, iron, silver, gold, copper, tin, lead, zinc are metals; carbon, sulphur,
and phosphorus are known as non-metals. In all there are forty-nine metallic elements, and fifteen
non-metallic elements.
"These sixty-four elements combine to form compounds much in the same way as the twenty-six
letters of our alphabet combine to form words. Nearly every word we use is a compound of two or
more letters, and the letters make totally different words according to the manner in which they are
combined. Just in a similar way the chemical elements may be called the alphabet of chemistry, and
they form various compounds as they vary in their mode of combining.
"Thus, we might say that the red oxide of mercury is like a word of two letters—mercury and
oxygen. Water, a compound of hydrogen and oxygen, and carbonic acid gas, a compound of carbon
and oxygen, are two similar words. Chalk would then represent a word of three letters— calcium,
carbon, and oxygen; and slaked lime—calcium, hydrogen, and oxygen—would be another similar
word of three letters.
"As we learn to read and understand these words better, we shall find that some of them are very
long, and, like the hard words in our books and newspapers, contain a great many letters."
 Lesson 07
The Blood-Vessels of the Body
Our lesson on the blood showed us that fluid coursing through the body in tubes or pipes, which
are called blood-vessels. We shall now proceed to examine these vessels, beginning with the veins,
because we know something of them already. They are the vessels which can be seen as dark purplish
cords just beneath the skin; they convey the blood back to the heart. We may easily trace them
upwards from the hand, as they unite into larger and larger trunks. We might compare them to the
numerous tributaries of a great river, all bringing their contributions to swell the main stream.

In all these vessels the blood is perpetually flowing one way—from the smaller into the larger
trunks, and so on to the heart. We cannot see the blood flow along our veins, but a microscope shows
it very clearly in the thin transparent web between the toes of a frog.
The veins, as seen just beneath the skin, are of a dark purple color. The blood in them is not
bright red blood, such as we usually see, but purple—almost black. It is, in fact, loaded with
impurities—the waste, worn-out, dead particles of muscle, nerve, brain, and bone, which the blood in
its course has caught up, and is carrying away to the heart. These waste matters could not be allowed
to remain in the body. They would be as injurious there as a heap of rotting, putrefying refuse matter
would be in and about our homes. Their very presence in the blood has changed its character and
appearance; it was bright red blood once, now it is dark purple and impure. It is the duty of the veins
to collect up all this impure blood, and pass it along through larger and larger trunks, and finally
discharge it into the heart.
Let us turn next to the arteries—the vessels which carry blood away from the heart. Their great
main trunk, which springs directly from that organ, is a pipe rather larger than one's thumb. This sends
off branch after branch, each branch dividing again and again into smaller and still smaller ones, until
they are at last as fine as the finest veins.
But the blood which passes from the heart along these channels is good blood, free from
impurities, and loaded with materials for renewing those parts of the body which have been worn out.
Its color, too, is changed to a bright red.
You would form a very good notion of these arteries if you could picture to yourselves the
water-supply system of some large town. Trace, in your mind, the course of the water from the central
pumping station, first along the great main, then into the pipes leading from it under the roadways,
then again into smaller and smaller branching pipes leading to the streets and lanes, and finally into
the delivery pipes in connection with the individual houses.
The veins and their work might be as clearly illustrated by comparing them to the drainage
system of the same town. The water company's pipes bring pure, fresh, wholesome water to the
houses, but this same water, after performing its office, finds its way, polluted with filth and all sorts
of impurities, to the drain. The drains from the various houses run into larger pipes, and these into
still larger ones, until the great main sewers are reached, and these carry the filthy stream away from
the town, where it can do no harm. The arteries are usually embedded deep in the flesh, and cannot be
seen. This is a most providential arrangement, because if an artery be cut or wounded, it is a very
difficult matter to close up the wound and stop the bleeding. The person is in extreme danger of
bleeding to death. Packed away deep in the flesh as these vessels are, they are comparatively safe
from injury.
If an artery were removed from the body of any animal and examined, it would be found to be a
plain, simple pipe, through which water might be poured from either end. If a vein were removed, and
treated similarly, we should find an important difference in this respect. It would be easy enough to
pour water through from one end, but if we tried to do so from the opposite end, the pipe would
become closed or stopped up. The reason for the stoppage would soon become apparent if we slit the
pipe open. The walls of the veins are provided with little bags here and there, which stretch across
the tube with their mouths opening all in one direction— towards the heart. These little bags, or
pouches, form valves. They allow the blood to flow readily past them on its way to the heart, but
should it, from any cause, attempt to flow backwards, it would fill up the little pockets, and swell
them out till they blocked the way altogether. There are no valves in the arteries.

We now clearly understand that in every part of the body there must he two sets of vessels—
arteries to bring pure fresh blood, veins to carry it back to the heart contaminated with impurities.
Every artery ends and every vein begins in a network of still smaller hair-like tubes— the capillaries.
So close are these tiny vessels placed that it is impossible to prick the skin anywhere without
piercing the walls of some of them, and causing the blood to flow.
 The walls of the arteries are stout and muscular; those of the veins are thinner and somewhat
flabby, but the capillaries have the thinnest of thin walls.
It can only intensify your feelings of wonder and surprise when you learn that in the horse the
complete round of the circulation from the heart, along the arteries, through the capillaries, and back
by the veins to the heart again, is accomplished in about half a minute.
 Lesson 08
Plants Useful for Food (Ⅱ)

Other Breadstuffs
The bean, pea, lentil, lupin, and vetch are included under the common name of pulse. They form
a most useful class of breadstuffs, and enter largely into the food of both man and animals. The
usefulness of pulse is due to the large amount of glutinous or tissue-forming matter which they contain;
100 lbs. weight of pulse averages about 24 lbs. of gluten.
The gluten of pulse is known as legumin. It resembles the gluten of oats rather than that of wheat.
Pulse meal, although it is highly nutritious, will not make light, spongy bread, and in the countries
where it is most eaten it is prepared in the form of cakes. The Scotch people, you remember, make
their oatmeal into cakes; this, however, is not because they prefer close, heavy cakes to ordinary
bread, but because the oatmeal will not make up into light, spongy loaves. Pulse meal alone would
not make a good food, as it contains a very small percentage of fat. This perhaps will show you that it
is no mere whim or accident that leads people to prepare a dish of bacon and beans. The fat of the
bacon gives the very thing that is wanting in the beans, and the two together make an excellent food.
On the same principle a mixture of beans and oats is found to make the best food for horses which are
engaged in laborious work. The oats contain a large proportion of tissue-forming matter (about 16
percent), but they contain in addition an abundance of fat, which makes up for the deficiency of that
material in the beans. On the other hand, the proportion of tissue-forming matter is much larger in the
beans than in the oats. Thus a mixture of the foods gives more strength and endurance than either could
give separately.
The common French or kidney bean is mostly eaten in the green state in this country. These beans
are natives of India, but they are now grown in most temperate climates. The useful haricot-bean is
simply the ripe seed of the French bean.
The broad or Windsor bean is not only grown largely for use as a green vegetable, but is
imported in great quantities, in the ripe state, for feeding horses. In this state the beans are commonly
known as horse-beans. Lentils make excellent soups, and they also yield a highly nutritious meal,
from which is prepared the well-known food—revalenta—for infants and invalids.
There is a small kind of pulse grown in the East, and known as chickpea or gram. Travellers
about to cross the deserts carry with them a supply of these peas, roasted ready for use. Heavy, bulky
food would be an encumbrance; these peas are light and take up little room, while they are said to be
more life-sustaining in their properties than any other food.
 In Lombardy immense quantities of lupins are grown, and the meal which their seeds yield forms
the staple food of the common people. The peanut or ground-nut belongs to the pulse family, and in the
tropical regions where it is grown it forms the staple food for both man and animals. These nuts
contain about 50 percent oil. We import ground-nuts into this country for the sake of the oil, which is
worth from twenty to thirty shillings a ton, and is employed in soap-making. The residue left after
expressing the oil forms a valuable oil-cake, worth from £8 to £10 a ton.
Sago, as you know, is obtained from the pith of the sago-palm. The tree, when mature, is cut
down, and the pith, after being extracted, is washed in water on a sieve. The meal, which is mostly
starch, settles at the bottom of the water, and is collected by draining off the water and drying in the
sun.
The tree is cultivated widely throughout the tropics, but its natural home is New Guinea and
certain parts of the coast of Arica. Here it forms the staple food of the natives, who bake the meal into
a kind of bread or hard cake. Its importance to them as their chief breadstuff is seen from the fact that
a fully-grown tree yields about 700 lbs. of sago-meal, while it is said that a healthy man can live on a
diet of 2.5 lbs. of the meal daily.
 The natives of the Pacific and Indian Archipelagoes depend almost entirely upon the breadfruit
tree for their food supply. It yields a fruit which is to them what our wheaten loaf is to us. It is their
bread.

This is a most wonderful tree, and affords a splendid illustration of Nature's lavish bounty in
these regions. The fruit grows in such abundance that each tree bears and ripens crop after crop in
succession during the year. Three trees are said to be sufficient to support a full-grown man for eight
months out of the twelve. The fruit contains a porous and mealy pith, enclosed in a tough outer rind. It
is usually plucked before it is quite ripe, and baked on hot stones. It tastes, when cooked, very much
like wheaten bread.
To the natives of Central America, the West Indies, and other tropical parts, the banana or
plantain is an equally important tree; it supplies their staple food. The fruit which it yields contains
within its outer rind a mealy substance, which, when dried in the oven, resembles bread both in taste
and composition. It is the bread of the people there.
 In composition it is less nutritious than some of the other breadstuffs already named, as it
contains only about 2 percent gluten mixed with about 20 percent starchy matter. The average daily
allowance of food for a laborer in those regions is about 2 lbs. of the dry banana meal, with the
addition of a quarter of a pound of fish or meat. This is said to afford ample sustenance. A single tree
bears from 40 to 70, and sometimes 80 lbs. weight of fruit. Indeed no plant in the world is more
prolific in its products than this tree. It has been calculated that 1000 square feet of land will produce,
on the average, 462 lbs. of potatoes or 38 lbs. of wheat; but that same space will yield as much as
4000 lbs. of bananas, and in a shorter time.

The date is justly called the "bread of the desert." Its home is the northern part of Africa.
Wherever a spring of water exists in those burning sandy deserts, the date-palm is sure to be found.
Where every other crop fails, this tree will flourish in spite of the drought.
 The people of the oases dry and pound the fruit into a kind of cake, and it becomes the bread of
nineteen-twentieths of the population for the greater part of the year.
 Lesson 09
The Lever
"Our lesson on the Forces of Nature showed us one important difference between civilized man
and the untaught savage," said Mr. Wilson. "Both are surrounded by these wonderful forces. One
makes a rough-and-ready use of some of the simplest of them; the other, by his ingenuity, has been
able to subdue them all to his own will—change them, adapt them, and even magnify their intensity to
an almost unlimited extent, so as to compel them to minister to his wants in thousands of ways. The
contrivances which he has invented to assist him in this subjugation of the natural forces are known as
the mechanical powers. They form the basis of every machine in use in the civilized world.
"Our business this morning will be to consider the first and simplest of these mechanical
powers. You shall come to the front and help us, Fred, by trying to raise this heavy cupboard off the
floor."
Fred tried, but found it impossible to move the cupboard. Its weight offered too great a
resistance to all the muscular force he was able to exert.
"Now I will show you," continued Mr. Wilson, "how to raise the cupboard with the greatest
ease, by calling in the help of this iron crow-bar. I will push one end of the bar under the cupboard,
place this small block of wood a little distance off, and press the other end down. The cupboard
moves easily. Try it for yourself, Fred. You now see that this simple bar of iron enables you, with the
expenditure of a comparatively small muscular force, to raise that heavy body, which you were
unable to move before by exerting all your strength.
"The force which you applied at one end of the bar downwards was transmitted to the other end,
and acted in an upward direction on the cupboard. Moreover, the small force which you applied was
converted, by this bar, into a force sufficient to lift the heavy weight.
"This altering of the force is just what all mechanical contrivances are meant to do; hence the
iron bar is a machine. It is the simplest of all machines. We call it a lever.
"All that is necessary is that it must be perfectly rigid. A cane, or a bar of any yielding material,
could never serve the purpose of a lever, because the force applied at one end, instead of being
transmitted to the other, would be used up in bending the cane itself.
"The lever, from its simplicity, was, in all probability, the first of man's inventions in the
mechanical powers. We must now learn the principles on which it works.
"The first essential is that the bar shall be perfectly rigid.
"Here is a stout, flat lath, which will satisfy all the conditions in this respect. I have bored a
number of holes in the lath, at exact distances apart, and I am going to fix it up to the edge of the table,
by means of a large French nail through one of these holes. It is quite immaterial where we place the
nail, as the bar is free to move in every position. This is the other essential in a lever. Besides being a
rigid bar, it must be capable of moving about a fixed point. This fixed point about which the lever
moves is called the fulcrum. Our lath then in its present position is a lever, and the nail which holds it
to the edge of the table is its fulcrum. It is usual to call the parts of the bar on either side of the
fulcrum the arms of the lever.
"We will commence operations by placing the nail through the middle hole of the lever, so that
the arms are of equal length. If now we hang a 2 lbs. weight at the end of each arm, they will balance.
"Now Fred shall remove the weight from one end, and still keep the bar balanced by holding it
in his hand. How do you manage to keep it balanced, Fred?"
"I am pressing down on the end of the bar, sir."
"Can you tell me with what force you must be pressing?"
"With the force of the weight I removed, sir, I suppose," replied Fred.
"Exactly. The two weights at first balanced, because they were both pulling downwards with
equal force at the two ends of the bar; and you must now exert an equal amount of muscular force
downwards, at the one end, to balance the weight hanging at the other. If you use the smallest amount
of additional force now, you will raise the weight at the other end.

"We usually call the force which you have been exerting the power, and the heavy body whatever
it may be at the other end is called the weight or the resistance. In like manner the two arms of the
lever are known as the power-arm and the weight-arm.
"Let us now alter the position of the lever, so as to make the power-arm twice the length of the
weight-arm. If, with the lever so arranged, we hang a 2 lbs. weight at the end of the short arm, we
shall easily find by experiment that a weight of 1 lb. at the end of the long arm is sufficient to balance
it. The slightest extra pressure of the hand on the power-arm would then raise the 2 lbs. weight at the
other end.
"By making fresh rearrangements of our lever, we may have the power-arm three, four, or six
times as long as the weight-arm, and at every change our 1 lb. weight at the end of the long arm will
balance a still heavier weight on the other. With the power-arm six times as long as the weight-arm,
the 1 lb. weight would exactly balance 6 lbs. If we tried to balance the lever by holding the end of the
power-arm, we should feel that very little muscular exertion would be necessary. We should press it
down with only a force of 1 lb. to balance the 6 lbs. at the end of the weight-arm.
"Here we have a machine which gives a distinct advantage. When we used the lever with equal
arms, the only advantage gained was a change in the direction of the force. To raise the weight, the
power pressed downwards instead of upwards. With the power-arm longer than the weight-arm, a
small force will raise a heavy weight, and the longer the power-arm is, as compared with the weight-
arm, the greater will be the weight which that small force can raise. This explains the ease with
which you raised the heavy cupboard. The power-arm of your lever was very long compared with the
weight-arm."
 Lesson 10
Chemical Combination
"We have already had occasion to mention certain metallic elements," began Mr. Wilson. "I have
one in this bottle, of a very different nature from the metals we are accustomed to meet with every
day. We call it potassium. It can exist in its pure state only while it is bottled up like this in paraffin-
oil.
"You have seen before now another element— phosphorus—which, in like manner, must be
bottled up in water. But water is not able to keep this element— potassium—out of mischief; we have
to put it in paraffin-oil."
Mr. Wilson then proceeded to take the potassium out of the bottle, and cut off a small pellet
about the size of a pea. This he threw into a large basin of water standing on the table. The metal was
so light that it floated on the surface, but the most wonderful thing of all was that the moment it
touched the water it seemed to burst into flame. The boys saw the beautiful purple flame playing all
round it, as it floated about on the surface of the water.
The piece of metal gradually became smaller and smaller, and at last disappeared altogether.
"Now let us find out," said Mr. Wilson, "what all this means. You saw that we had to keep the
potassium in paraffin. The fact is, this metal has such a great liking for oxygen that if it were left
exposed to the air, it would go on abstracting oxygen from it. The two elements could not keep apart;
they would rush together to form a new compound substance. It is for this very reason that we cannot
keep it in water even, for it would rob the water of its oxygen for the same purpose. Hence we bottle
it up in paraffin.
"Now watch, while I cut another small pellet. Notice the bright, bluish, metallic lustre of the
newly-cut edge. But even as you look at it, you can see the bright lustre gradually disappear. The fact
is, the metal, as soon as it was exposed to the air, began to rob the air of its oxygen, and to combine
with that oxygen, to form a new substance all over its surface. It is this new substance which dulls the
lustre of the newly-cut surface. Let us try now and learn the meaning of that flame on the water. The
moment the potassium touches the water, it begins to rob it of some of its oxygen. Now, as water is
composed of only the two gases, oxygen and hydrogen, what must happen when the metal takes away
some of the oxygen? A certain amount of hydrogen must be set free.
"The potassium and oxygen and some of this hydrogen combine, and form a new compound
substance—caustic potash—which dissolves in the water. In other words, the oxygen, set free from
the water, burns up or oxidizes the potassium, the result of the oxidation being the new substance—
caustic potash.
"We have already learned that whenever chemical combination takes place heat is given out.
Now then let us see. Hydrogen, a very inflammable gas, is set free all round the floating piece of
metal. The metal combining with oxygen gives off great heat, and the burning flame is really the
hydrogen, set free from the water, and blazing round the pellet of potassium. All this takes place
because of the great attraction that potassium and oxygen have for each other. We call this attraction
chemical affinity, or chemical attraction. It is another of the great forces in nature.
"It was this chemical attraction, or chemical affinity, that enabled us to obtain carbonic acid gas
from chalk by means of hydrochloric acid. The calcium of the chalk has a stronger affinity for the
chlorine of the hydrochloric acid than for the carbonic acid. It consequently breaks its connection
with the carbonic acid, and enters into new relations with the chlorine, forming a new substance,
chloride of calcium, and setting free the carbonic acid gas.
"In the same way, it is the strong affinity of phosphorus, sulphur, carbon, and hydrogen for
oxygen, that causes them to burn so fiercely in that gas.
"We may sum up the results of our investigations as follows:
"1. Certain elements have an attraction or affinity for others.
"2. This attraction does not exist between all bodies, and it differs in degree. It is stronger
between some than it is between other bodies.
"3. It is so strong in some that they at once unite if they are brought into contact.
"4. In others heat must be applied to start the chemical action. The water poured on the quick-
lime gives a good illustration of the powerful affinity existing between these two substances. They
instantly enter into combination, the lime drinking in the water with greedy avidity not only without
the application of heat, but itself actually evolving intense heat during the combination.

"Now let us have another experiment. I will put some flowers of sulphur in the bottom of this
glass flask, and on the sulphur a small coil of fine copper wire. Watch what takes place when I heat
the flask over the Bunsen burner.
"First the yellow powder melts and becomes liquid sulphur; then it begins to change colour, till
at last it is quite black. By this time the liquid begins to boil, and the copper also becoming heated,
begins to glow with an intensely bright light and great heat, and eventually melts and seems to
disappear.
"If the flask is now set aside to cool, and afterwards broken open, it will be seen to contain
neither sulphur nor copper, but a black solid substance quite unlike either.
"The copper and the sulphur have combined to form this new substance, which contains in itself
every particle of the two original elements. While they were combining in this way they gave out
intense heat; it was this heat that melted and burned the metallic copper.
"The great thing to remember in this chemical combination of two or more elements is that,
although each element is present in the compound, and can be recovered from it, it loses entirely its
distinctive properties while it is in combination."
 Lesson 11
The Heart
Now that we know something of the blood-vessels, which carry the blood, we naturally turn to
the central pump which forces it along.

The heart is situated in the middle of the thorax, or chest, between the two lungs. It is a pear-
shaped organ, and has its broad end or base turned upward and backward towards the spine, and its
pointed end or apex downward, forward, and to the left.
It is a hollow organ, about the size of one's closed fist, and is made entirely of muscle. It
contains two great chambers, completely separated from each other by an immovable wall of muscle,
which reaches from the base to the apex. Each of these great chambers is further subdivided by
another partition, stretching cross-wise. Thus, the heart really contains four chambers of the same size
—two upper and two lower.
The upper chambers are called the right and left auricles; the lower, the right and left ventricles.
There is a passage between the upper and lower chamber on each side, so that whatever is in the
auricle can pass through into the ventricle below, but there is no direct communication between the
right and left sides. The heart is a muscular organ, and its pumping work is accomplished by the
contraction of its muscles. These muscles, under the direct guidance and control of certain nerves,
always work in one particular way. The auricles and ventricles are never at work together.
Both auricles begin to contract at the same moment, but this is only the signal for the ventricles to
cease working, and when the ventricles in their turn begin to contract, the auricles cease work. In this
way, at the very moment when the two ventricles are contracted to their smallest size, the two auricles
are expanded or stretched out to their fullest extent. When the auricles take their turn to work or
contract, the ventricles in like manner expand to their utmost.
It is by this alternate contraction of auricles and ventricles that the heart does its pumping. Every
time the auricles contract they force the blood that is in them through the passage in their floor into the
ventricles below; every time the ventricles contract, the blood is driven out from them in like manner.
We want to see what becomes of it. Let us begin with the blood in the auricles, for we have not yet
learned how it gets there.
The veins from all parts of the body collect up the impure, purple blood, and unite again and
again into larger trunks on their way to the heart. They finally pour their contents into the expanded
right auricle of the heart by two great vessels—one draining, so to speak, the upper part of the body,
the other, the lower. These two great veins are called respectively the superior and the inferior
venacava.
Once in the right auricle, the blood is forced by the next contraction into the right ventricle, but
the ventricle is no sooner filled than it begins in turn to contract, and this must force the blood
somewhere. It cannot flow back into the auricle, because the passage between the two chambers is
guarded by a valve which blocks the way. There is an easy passage, however, by which the blood can
leave the ventricle, and that is the entrance to a great vessel, called the pulmonary artery. When the
contraction of the ventricle comes, therefore, the blood takes the only course open and rushes into this
great artery. It is called the pulmonary artery because it leads to the lungs. Remember that the blood
which it carries away from the right ventricle of the heart to the lungs is the same impure, purple
blood which the great veins poured into the auricle. Both chambers on the right side of the heart
contain this dark purple blood.
The blood once in the great artery must not be suffered to return; it must go forward. This is
provided for by a pouch-like valve, known as the semi-lunar valve, which guards the entrance. It
consists of three little pouches with their mouths all opening towards the artery, and away from the
heart. They allow an easy passage onward, but the least attempt of the blood to flow back would fill
those little bags and so block the way.
It is curious to note that the muscular walls of this right ventricle are thicker and stronger than
those of the auricle above it. The auricle has merely to squeeze the blood into the ventricle; the
ventricle has to pump it out of the heart altogether into the lungs.
If we next turn our attention to the left side of the heart, commencing with the auricle on that side,
we shall find four large vessels opening into it. These are the pulmonary veins, so called because they
come from the lungs—two from each lung. They bring back to the heart the blood which was sent to
the lungs, but it comes back no longer impure and purple, but pure and bright scarlet in color.
The expanding auricle receives it from these vessels, and as soon as it is full begins to contract,
the contraction forcing it through into the ventricle below. The passage between the two chambers is
guarded, like that on the right side, by a valve. Hence when the ventricles contract the blood cannot
return.
Leading from this left ventricle is a great artery—the main artery for supplying blood to the
body. It is called the aorta, and its entrance is guarded, like that of the pulmonary artery on the other
side, with a valve to prevent any return, but to allow an easy passage onward. The contraction of the
ventricle forces the blood along this channel, and the work of the heart is complete.
Semi-lunar valves, like those at the entrance of the pulmonary artery, guard the gateway into the
aorta, and the enormously increased labor of pumping the blood into every corner of the body is also
provided for. The walls of the left ventricle are much thicker and stronger than those of any other part
of the organ.
 Lesson 12
Plants Useful for Food (Ⅲ)

Useful Vegetables
In addition to the plants which furnish man in all parts of the world with some form of bread
material, there are others of a different character on which he depends to a large extent for his daily
food supply. He uses the root of one, the stem of another, the leaves of another. In some cases it is the
underground tuber which yields the food supply.
Among the useful roots are the carrot, turnip, and parsnip—the fleshy taproots of the respective
plants. The mangold-wurzel—one of the turnip family—is a valuable root used by the farmer for
feeding cattle.
The potato, although obtained from that portion of the plant which is in the ground, is not a root,
but a swollen part of the underground stem. We call it a tuber.
It does not require very much explanation to show that these underground parts of the plant (roots
and tubers) must of necessity contain a large amount of water, for they are always absorbing water
from the soil. Every 100 lbs. weight of turnips contains 92 lbs. of water and only 8 lbs.of dry solid
matter. The same weight of carrots contains 88 lbs. of water and 12 lbs. of solid matter; while
potatoes yield 75 lbs. of water and 25 lbs. of solid constituents.
If these roots and tubers be dried until all the water is driven out of them, the dry solid matter
will be found to consist mainly of the same substances, gluten and starch, with which we have
become familiar in the breadstuffs. It is because they contain these substances that they are valuable
as nutritious foods. The dried solid substance of the parsnip, for instance, yields a meal which
consists of gluten in addition to starch and sugar combined. The turnip is said to be quite equal in its
composition to the meal of the Indian corn, except that it is deficient in fatty matter. Therefore to make
turnips really nutritious, they should be eaten with some fatty or oily food. The farmer makes turnips
combined with oil-cake the main food of his cattle during the winter months, when they are for the
most part housed, and unable to seek their own food in the meadows.
Next to the cereals, the potato is the most valuable of all vegetable foods. It feeds domestic
animals as well as man, and is more extensively and universally grown than any other cultivated
plant. It is very largely cultivated in mild climates, and to some extent in warm, and even in cold
regions.
The 25 percent of dry solid matter which it contains consists largely of starch, with less gluten
than is found in rice, banana, or breadfruit, yet in conjunction with other food it forms a valuable
article of diet. To the Irish peasant it is as much the staple food as rice is to the Hindu and the
Chinese, or the banana to the Black man.
The sweet potato of Central America, and the yam of the East and West Indies and the South Sea
Islands, are varieties of the potato which form important articles of food in the regions where they are
grown.
The onion is a most valuable and nutritious article of food; its solid substance when dried is
found to contain from 25 to 30 percent tissue-forming gluten. In its sustaining power it is said to equal
the gram of the Eastern desert-lands. It is largely cultivated in this country, and is also imported from
Spain and Portugal to the extent of seven or eight hundred tons yearly.
The Spanish peasant works contentedly from day to day on a diet of bread and onions—the
onions contributing very largely to the amount of nourishment provided by his simple meal. The onion
is the lower part of the stem of the plant swollen out to form a bulb.
The leaves of plants provide a by no means inconsiderable proportion of our daily food, both
directly and indirectly. Our sheep and oxen and other animals, whose flesh supplies us with food, live
for the most part on grass.
The cabbage family of plants, including the cauliflower, broccoli, etc., are extensively grown in
all European countries. They contain a large proportion of water—as much as 90 percent; but their
dry solid matter is rich in tissue-forming gluten, and this makes them a highly nutritious article of diet.
A common dish in Ireland and in the South of France is made of potatoes and cabbage beaten up
together. The potato supplies abundance of starch, but little gluten; the cabbage is rich in gluten; the
two combined approach the composition of wheaten bread. Add to the mixture a little fat pork, and
the whole gives as nearly as possible the composition of Scotch oatmeal.
One important constituent of every variety of vegetable food we have hitherto ignored. If we
burned any one of the food substances we have examined, we should leave a residue—the mineral
ash. This ash represents the earthy or mineral matters absorbed from the soil by the plant during its
life. These mineral matters are of the highest importance to the growth and well-being of the body—
particularly in the work of bone-making. At the same time, most of them are valuable as storehouses
of potash, a mineral matter of great importance to our health and well-being from its anti-scorbutic
properties—that is, as a preventive of scurvy and other eruptions of the skin. People who from any
cause are deprived of these fresh vegetables are sure to suffer from such diseases sooner or later.
 Lesson 13
Animals Useful for Food
In dealing with the vegetable food-stuffs we took bread in some form to be man's staple food.
We commenced our investigation of these vegetable foods by examining the composition of wheaten
bread, and we found that every kind of bread must contain similar materials, and possess similar
nutritive properties.
We shall now follow the same plan in dealing with flesh foods, taking a piece of lean beef for
our first investigation. If we get a piece of newly-cut lean beef, fresh from the butcher, we find that it
is moist. This is due to the water which the flesh contains. We must get rid of this water before we
can learn anything about the composition of the beef. The best plan is to let it dry slowly on a tin plate
in the hot sun. The water will evaporate gradually, leaving the meat dry.
As the drying goes on the beef shrinks considerably in size. In fact, if the original piece weighed
a pound, we should have, after the drying, less than a quarter of a pound of perfectly dry flesh. That is
to say, three-quarters of its weight is water.
We can find out by experiment what are the constituents of the dry flesh. A piece of fresh beef
has a red appearance, owing to the blood which it contains. We can easily get rid of the blood by
repeatedly washing the flesh in fresh water, and it will then be seen to consist of a mass of whitish
fibers or threads, with little particles of fat interspersed among the fibers.
If this be put into spirits of wine, the fat will all dissolve out of it, and nothing will remain but
the fibrous tissue, which is the principal solid constituent of the muscles, or lean flesh, of animals. It
is known in the scientific world as myosin.
When we eat meat it is this part of it—myosin—that becomes tissue-forming food. It is the
nutritive part of flesh food, as gluten is of vegetable food. In fact, myosin of flesh and gluten of the
vegetable may be considered as identical in this respect.
Lean meat, however, contains nearly three times as much flesh-forming material as bread. It
contains no starch, while bread has half its entire weight of this material.
Civilised man in all parts of the world has always reared and kept certain animals for food. To
distinguish these from the wild animals of the chase, we speak of them as domesticated animals. The
chief of them are the ox, the sheep, and the pig. The cow not only provides us with flesh food when
dead, but also while living gives milk. Milk is in itself a valuable food; we use it in its simple form,
and we convert it into butter and cheese.
The flesh of the sheep is eaten only as fresh mutton; the pig's flesh is not only eaten fresh, but it is
salted, smoked, and cured into bacon and hams.
Poultry, eggs, and game form important items in our animal food. In addition to Englands home-
supply they import poultry very largely from other countries, especially from France. In 1886 England
spent on eggs alone £2,879,000, most of the eggs coming from France.
Fish of various kinds must be reckoned among the important articles of the food-supply; the
fisheries of Great Britain are a source of great wealth to the country. The cod, herring, mackerel,
salmon, haddock, and pilchard are among the most valuable catches, and oyster cultivation is
prosecuted on various parts of the coast. The herring fishery is carried on chiefly round the Scotch
coasts; the pilchard fishery is confined to the southwestern corner of the island.
In 1887 it was estimated that 125,000 men and 32,000 boats were actively engaged in the British
fisheries. The most valuable of the British fishing-grounds is the Dogger Bank, between England and
Holland.
Among the most important and productive fisheries of the world are those of Newfoundland,
Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick. Cod is the chief fish caught, but the Gulf of St. Lawrence
absolutely teems with fish of almost every variety.
The annual value of these Canadian fisheries varies from four to six millions sterling.
 Lesson 14
First Order of Levers
Our investigations into the nature and use of the lever led us to discover how it is that this simple
machine is able to give such immense mechanical advantage. We know that we have only to make the
power-arm very long as compared with the weight-arm, in order to overcome great resistance with
the expenditure of a very small amount of force.
But we can go further than this. We can easily calculate the exact weight which any force is
capable of raising by means of a lever, if we know also the respective lengths of the two arms of the
lever. The power multiplied by the length of the power-arm is always the same as the weight
multiplied by the length of the weight-arm. If you go back to our trial experiments with the lever, you
will find this absolutely true in every case ; the shorter the weight-arm, the greater the weight, and the
longer the power-arm, the smaller the power.
It is important to remember that in every rearrangement we made with the lever the other day, we
were careful to place the fulcrum each time between the power and the weight. Whenever levers are
used in this way, they form a class by themselves, and are known as levers of the first order.
We will now enumerate a few practical examples of the use of this first order of levers, which
you often meet with in everyday life.
To you the most familiar example of all will be the see-saw. The moment I mention the word you
picture it in your mind's eye, and are mentally pointing out to yourselves its fulcrum, and the two
arms, one on each side of it. You know that, when the two boys are about the same size you make the
two arms equal by placing the fulcrum in the center of the plank. But how do you act when one boy is
smaller than another? You give him the longer end of the plank—the long arm of the lever. You do this
simply because you have seen other boys do it; now you know the reason for doing it.
It will be instructive to notice also how each boy on the see-saw in turn becomes first the weight
and then the power. When either end of the plank is down, the boy at that end is the weight, and the
one at the other end becomes the power which is to raise him, and so it goes on.
Among the other familiar illustrations of the use of this first order of levers are: (1) the poker in
the act of stirring a fire; (2) a crowbar in the act of raising a paving stone; (3) the claw-hammer in
drawing a nail; (4) the common pump-handle; (5) an ordinary pair of scales for weighing goods; (6) a
spade in the act of digging. Take each of these familiar examples one by one, and point out its fulcrum,
power, and resistance, and you will see that it acts just as our model did.
In addition to the above we have the steelyard, a very useful instrument for weighing purposes. If
we compare the steelyard with a pair of scales, we shall easily understand the principle on which it
acts,
In the scales the two arms are equal, and we use a great number of weights. In the steelyard the
arms are unequal, the object to be weighed is hung from the short arm, and only one weight is used on
the long arm. A little thought now will quickly tell you the reason for this.
A pair of scissors, pincers, and nippers are examples of double levers of the first order. Think
for a moment, and try to explain why we bring hard, stiff material as close as possible to the rivet of
the scissors when we wish to cut it.
 Let us now go back to our see-saw. We will imagine two boys, a big one and a little one, riding
on it. The little boy, as you know, sits on the long arm, the big boy on the short arm, and each, in turn,
becomes the power and the weight.
When the big boy on the short arm is down, he is the weight, and the little boy on the long arm
becomes the power to raise him. The little boy represents a very small power, but when that power
acts at the end of the long arm, it increases, and he is able to raise the bigger boy.
When it becomes the turn of the big boy to act as power, that power is considerably greater than
the weight to be raised, but it is acting at the end of the short arm of the lever. Now, consider for a
moment. Which boy has the best ride? The little boy, of course, has the best ride. His end of the see-
saw rises higher, and moves more quickly than the other end.
Now I think you will be able to understand what I am going to say next. When the power acts at
the end of the long arm it increases in magnitude, but the weight which it acts upon moves slowly, and
through a short distance. When the power acts at the end of the short arm, the weight moves through a
greater space and at a greater speed, but there is loss of power. It takes, that is to say, a great power
to raise a little weight. This is a universal law as regards levers. Gain in power must mean loss in
speed; and gain in speed must mean loss in power.
 Lesson 15
Combustion
Mr. Wilson commenced the next lesson by repeating some of the old experiments with oxygen.
He had several jars of the gas prepared beforehand, and he plunged into them, one by one, in
succession, the burning splinter of wood and the pieces of carbon, sulphur, and phosphorus, just as he
had done in the earlier lessons. In each case, too, he allowed the substance to burn first in the air of
the room, to show the striking difference in effect when he plunged them into the pure oxygen.
"Now why do these things burn at all in the air?" he asked.
"Because the air contains oxygen," said several boys at once.
"Think over our last lesson on chemical combination, and tell me what the burning means in each
case."
"It means, sir," replied Fred, "that each of these substances has an affinity or attraction for
oxygen and, because of that affinity, abstracts oxygen from the air, and enters into chemical
combination with it to form a new compound substance."
"Excellent, my lad," said Mr. Wilson. "Now, of course you noticed, too, that the wood and the
carbon did not burn as briskly as the sulphur, nor the sulphur as briskly as the phosphorus. The reason
is that the chemical attraction of all these substances for oxygen is not equally strong. In phosphorus,
as we have seen, it is so strong that, unless the element is kept in water, it takes fire and burns away.
You must remember that the burning which took place in the air and in the pure oxygen is precisely the
same in kind; it differs only in degree. In either case it was entirely due to the presence of oxygen.
Each of these substances combined with oxygen to form a new compound, and while combining gave
off more or less heat and light. This is just what we mean by combustion.
"Suppose we have another experiment now; I am going to show you some iron in the very act of
combining with oxygen to form a new compound."
Mr. Wilson then took a piece of very thin iron wire, and, after coiling it round a ruler to make it
into a sort of spiral, he fixed one end of it into a cork, and dipped the other end, red-hot, into some
sulphur. He then showed the boys a large, bottomless, glass bell-jar which was standing on an iron
tray on the table.
 "This jar," said he, "is filled with oxygen. I shall remove the stopper presently, and fix in its
place this cork, which holds our coil of wire. The cork fits the neck of the jar exactly. Watch what
happens." When all was ready, he first held the sulphur-tipped end of the wire in the flame for a
moment, and then, while the sulphur was blazing, he rapidly took out the stopper and put the cork in
its place as he had said. The instant the iron wire was plunged into the oxygen in this way, it burst into
a most dazzlingly brilliant flame; intense heat was given out, and white-hot, fused drops of some
newly-formed substance were seen to fall continually as the burning proceeded.
"Now," said Mr. Wilson, "we see the same thing taking place with this metal—iron—as we have
seen with other substances. Chemical action is going on fiercely in the oxygen. The iron and the
oxygen are entering into chemical combination, and those fused drops are the new compound which is
being formed. In other words, combustion is going on between the iron and the oxygen.
"As this kind of chemical action cannot take place without the presence of oxygen, we always
speak of this gas as the great agent of combustion.
"I think we now clearly understand that, whenever combustion is going on, a new compound is
being formed, as the product of that combustion.
"Take for example the piece of carbon, which burns, as you know, either in the air or in pure
oxygen. Why does the carbon burn? Carbon, when once it is heated, has a strong affinity for oxygen. It
combines with oxygen to form a new substance—carbonic acid gas—and while the combination is
going forward, heat and light are produced.
"We have already learned that coal, wood, coke, peat—everything we use as fuel—as well as
the coal-gas, paraffin and other oil, and candles, which we use for lighting purposes, consist largely
of the element carbon. None of them would burn in an atmosphere deprived of its oxygen.
"The burning of any one of these illustrates clearly what is meant by the term combustion. It is
simply the chemical combination of the substance which is being burned with the oxygen in the air
around it. It is important to keep clearly in mind the fact that the carbon so burned is not destroyed. It
is merely changed into a new form in combination with oxygen as carbonic acid gas.
"We utilize for our own purpose the heat and light given out by these substances during
combustion; while the poisonous product, carbonic acid, is made to disperse as rapidly as possible.
"Whenever combustion takes place, and the substance unites chemically with oxygen, we use one
word to describe the new compound that is formed. We call it an oxide. For example, the piece of
sulphur burned with a pale blue flame, and gave off the well-known powerful smell with which we
are familiar when we strike a lucifer match. This smell came from the newly-formed compound of the
sulphur and oxygen, which we may call an oxide of sulphur,
"So with the burning phosphorus and the iron wire. In one case the product of the combustion
was an oxide of phosphorus; in the other an oxide of iron. In like manner we may have oxides of lead,
zinc, copper, tin, mercury, calcium, etc.
"You have seen the red oxide of mercury, and you know, too, that quicklime is the oxide of
calcium. This rusty piece of iron is covered with the oxide of that metal, for the rust is the oxide of
iron. If I scrape off some of this reddish-brown powder from the surface, I know that I have a
compound formed of iron and oxygen. It was formed as other oxides are formed; the only difference is
that the combustion was so slow, owing to the small quantity of oxygen in the air, that the usual heat
and light were not evolved during the process."
 Lesson 16
Oxidation Of the Waste Tissues
Our lessons thus far have shown us two kinds of blood coursing through the body, and we have
learned to associate the impure, purple blood with the waste, poisonous matter from the worn-out
tissues which that blood is carrying away. But how does it carry these impurities away? This is what
we have to learn next. Think of the dark purple blood as it is being collected up by the veins. It was,
just before, flowing through the arteries as bright red, arterial blood. The blood carried by the veins
up to the heart, and thence to the lungs, is the same dark purple fluid. It returns to the heart by the
pulmonary veins pure, bright-red blood. It has been cleansed from its impurities while passing
through the lungs. But it has not only given up its poisonous impurities, it has taken in something in the
lungs which is very necessary to our existence. You know that one-fifth of the bulk of all the air
around us consists of oxygen, and that the chief property of this gas is its power of burning or
oxidizing other substances. Suppose I placed a piece of burning candle in a jar of oxygen; what would
happen? It would burn rapidly, with a very brilliant glow, and it would continue to burn till all the
oxygen was consumed. In the meantime the substance of the candle would disappear. But how does it
disappear? The oxygen, you know, burns the carbon and hydrogen of which the candle is composed,
and changes these into the form of gases—carbonic acid and water-vapor. Think of the coal burning
in the fire-grate. The smoke which rises up the chimney is very different in appearance, and yet it
contains all the substance of the coal itself, converted into another form by the oxygen of the air; for
burning is merely a change; nothing is lost; there is no destruction.
Now let us see what all this has to do with getting rid of waste matters from the body. The solid
particles of brain, muscle, and other tissues, although they have by their work become worn-out and
waste matter, cannot be carried away out of the body in that state. They must undergo a complete
change into new and totally different substances. This change is brought about by the gas—oxygen.
Throughout life the work of breathing never ceases, and the work is two fold. We exhale—or send out
—and we inhale, or breathe in. That which we inhale is pure air, one-fifth of it being oxygen. The
oxygen, thus taken in as we breathe, is absorbed into the blood in the lungs, and carried into all parts
of the body.
Wherever the oxygen meets with tissues which have been used up, or worn out by their work, it
seizes upon them, and a slow burning or combustion at once commences. The harder we work the
faster our tissues are destroyed, and the quicker must we breathe, in order to take in sufficient oxygen
to carry on the burning. It is this constant burning up of the waste matters by oxygen in all parts of the
body that keeps us warm.
When we are in bad health, and the blood does not circulate freely, we are always cold. There is
not enough oxygen sent through the body at such times to do the necessary work of burning or
oxidizing the waste matters.
What happens when we have been undergoing some unusual exercise? We breathe more rapidly;
the heart beats at a quicker rate; and we feel the blood coursing through the body.
Why is this? More of the tissues than usual have been used up and become waste matter, and
more oxygen must be taken in and carried to them by the blood to burn them up. The increased burning
makes us feel warmer. If you notice the surface of the skin at such a time, you will find it covered
with drops of moisture. This moisture oozes out from the skin—we sweat or perspire. If I breathe,
moreover, on a slate or some polished surface, I find that my breath contains moisture too.
Now our lessons in chemistry have shown us that water is one of the products of burning. It is
always produced when hydrogen burns. Hence we learn that hydrogen is one of the materials of
which our bodies are made.
You remember, of course, our now familiar experiment of breathing into lime-water, and what it
teaches us. Carbonic acid is another of the products of the burning, for it is given off with our breath.
These two substances, water and carbonic acid, are being constantly formed by the oxidation of
the hydrogen and carbon, which enter largely into the constituent materials of the body. There are
other products of the burning—one in particular, ammonia—but carbonic acid and water are the chief.
The blood, as it courses through the body, absorbs these products of oxidation, and they change
its character from a life-giving to a poisonous stream. It becomes dark purple in color, and is carried
in this state by the veins back to the heart, and so on to the lungs. There it gives up carbonic acid and
water, and takes in oxygen in exchange. It is this exchange which reconverts the venous into arterial
blood once more.
 Lesson 17
Plants Useful for Food (Ⅳ)

Fruits and Nuts

Our recent investigations have led us to assign to certain fruits their proper and distinctive title
as actual breadstuffs. The populations in many parts of the world depend to a very large extent upon
the fruits natural to the soil for their daily food. Thus the Arab of North Africa and Arabia lives
almost entirely on the date; the Negro of the tropics on the banana; the South Sea Islander on the
breadfruit.
We in temperate climates regard fruit rather as a luxury than a necessary of life. The commonest
English fruits are the apple, pear, plum, cherry, apricot, peach, strawberry, raspberry, gooseberry, and
currants etc., most of which are cultivated in all parts of the country; but in addition to this, their
home-grown supply, they every year import immense quantities of fruit. Steam navigation has had the
effect of bringing distant lands into such close touch with our own, that we are able to enjoy all the
year round, at moderate cost, the fruits of foreign countries in addition to those of our own country.
Much foreign fruit supply comes from Spain, Malta, the Madeiras, the Canary Isles, the United States,
and the West Indies. Tasmania has of late years sent us immense cargoes of excellent apples.
In 1886 England imported fruit to the value of £3,652,225 sterling. This, in addition to their
generous homegrown supply, shows the high place which fruit takes as an article of food. In the same
year (1886) England's imports of apples alone amounted to no less than 3,261,460 bushels, and more
than half of this quantity came from the United States.
Englands annual imports of oranges and lemons amount to nearly 5,000,000 bushels. The greater
part of these come from Spain, but Sicily, Malta, and the West Indies all contribute largely as well.
The St. Michael's (the smallest and most delicately flavored variety of the fruit) takes its name
from one of the Azores, or Western Islands, where it was first exclusively grown.
The Seville orange (from the south of Spain) is distinguished by its slightly bitter taste, and is
used in the manufacture of marmalade. The Malta orange is a seedless variety, with a crimson pulp;
they are commonly called blood oranges. The European fruit are distinguished as a rule by their
smooth, thin skins; they come to us rolled up separately in thin white paper. The West Indian variety
are coarser and rougher-skinned fruit. They are not packed in separate papers.
The lemon, sweet lime, shaddock, and citron come mostly from Madeira, and large quantities of
pineapples are imported from the Azores and Bahamas. The banana of Central America and the West
Indies, and the pomegranate of Southern Asia are both to be seen in the fruiterers' shops, and hundreds
of tons of fresh grapes are imported, most of which come from Spain.
In addition to the fruits we have already mentioned, and which are known as raw or green fruits,
we see in the grocers' shops others, such as raisins, currants, and figs, which have been dried in the
sun. England's annual imports of these dried fruits amount to no less than 20,000 tons. Raisins come
from Valencia and Malaga in Spain; sultanas (a seedless variety) from Smyrna; currants from Smyrna
and the Ionian Islands; figs chiefly from Smyrna.
 It should be carefully borne in mind that the name currant has nothing to do with English red,
white, and black currants. Raisins and currants are both dried grapes. The currant takes its name from
Corinth; it is the Corinth grape.
Nuts, like fruit, form an important article of commerce. The most wonderful nut in the world is
the coconut, and it is the fruit of perhaps the most wonderful tree in the world—the coconut palm.
This tree, we already know, has nothing whatever to do with the cocoa-tree, which supplies the
material for the well-known beverage. It is very widely distributed throughout the tropics, and is to
be met with in the East and West Indies, in Central America, in India and Ceylon, and in all the
islands of the Pacific and Indian Archipelagoes. In Ceylon there are extensive plantations of these
palms, said to contain no fewer than twenty millions of trees.
The trees are usually found fringing the low shores. They are stately trees, rising often to the
height of 100 feet; the summit is crowned with feathery leaves from 12 to 15 feet in length. They bear
immense bunches of flowers, and when these die off, they give place to the fruit—the coconut of
commerce. The tree usually bears about sixty nuts each year.
The nuts, as we see them in the shops, have been stripped of their outer covering, which is a
thick, fibrous case, or husk. This supplies the material for coconut matting, brushes, etc.
To the natives of the lands where it grows this tree is invaluable; its uses are said to equal in
number the days of the year. They build their houses, and make every utensil and household article
they require from the wood of the trunk. They thatch their houses with the leaves, and the fibrous husk
of the nut supplies them with material for matting. The nut itself forms an important part of their food;
the milk supplies them with drink, and they make palm wine and arrack—a spirituous liquor—from
the fermented juice or sap of the flowers. From the kernel of the nut coconut oil is obtained. The
timber of the trunk is also a valuable article of commerce, known as porcupine wood.
England imports annually about £300,000 worth of cocoa-nut oil from India and Ceylon. Most of
it is used in the manufacture of marine soap—a soap that will form a lather with seawater.
Among the other common nuts are the filbert, walnut, almond, chestnut, and Brazil nut. Hazelnuts
and filberts are natives of England, but they import large quantities from Spain, under the name of
Barcelona nuts.
The walnut is also grown in England, but they import many thousand bushels every year from
Germany and the South of France. The almond belongs to the countries bordering on the
Mediterranean. There are several varieties—the sweet, the bitter, the Valencia, and the Jordan
almond. The last has nothing to do with the river Jordan. The name is a corruption of jardin, the
French word for garden. The chestnut is extensively grown in Spain and Italy. The people of
Lombardy mix chestnuts with their lupin meal to make their bread. Chestnuts are largely imported
from Holland and Belgium. The Brazil nut is the fruit of a large tree which grows mostly in the region
near the Orinoco. The fruit is a smooth, round case, half as big as a man's head, and in it the three-
sided nuts are packed closely together, as many as twenty or thirty in one case. It is extremely
dangerous to pass under the trees when the fruit is growing ripe; for the nut cases, owing to their great
weight, frequently fall as they ripen.
The natives have a novel way of obtaining the nuts without the trouble of climbing the tall trees.
The forests are swarming with monkeys. They chase the monkeys into the trees, and then pelt them
with small pebbles. The monkeys, in turn, pluck the nut-cases from the trees, and hurl them down at
their assailants.
 Lesson 18
Animal Food—Sources of Supply
Although British farmers rear very considerable numbers of livestock, they depend very largely
upon foreign supplies. They import the living animals, as well as dead carcasses of beef and mutton.
In the year 1886 the value of the live animals alone imported into England for food was £7,143,430
sterling. Most of England's live cattle are sent from Holland, Denmark, and North Germany. They
imported carcasses of beef, during the same year, to the value of £2,187,576; and mutton to the extent
of £1,404,888.
The modern invention of freezing the carcasses whole, and sending them in that state thousands
of miles by sea to the English market, has proved a great boon to the poor.
In the extensive sheep-farms of Australia and New Zealand the sheep are reared and kept solely
for their wool; the dead carcasses are of little value. Hence they can be frozen, shipped to England,
and sold in markets at marvellously low prices. The ships employed in this trade are fitted with
refrigerating chambers, in which the carcasses may be kept in a frozen state for any length of time.
Some idea of the extent of this trade may be formed from the fact that in 1893 New Zealand alone
shipped 1,840,000 carcasses of frozen mutton and lamb to England.
England also import large quantities of tinned meat from the same countries. The farmers of
Australia and New Zealand used to throw away as refuse what they now put into these tins and send
to England. The carcasses are thrown into great coppers, and boiled for the sake of the fat or tallow.
When this is removed, the remainder is closed up in tins for food, and very wholesome food it makes.
Butter and cheese are also imported largely. In addition to their home production, they imported
in 1886 cheese to the value of £3,867,896; and butter and butterine worth £8,140,188 and £2,958,300
respectively.
Imports of bacon and hams for the same year amounted to £8,379,342; the total from the United
States alone being valued at £6,291,607, or about three-fourths of the whole supply.
North America is the great swine-breeding region for almost the whole world. As an industry of
the United States, pig-raising is not yet fifty years old, but it has made the most marvellous progress
during that time. Colossal fortunes have been amassed by it, and it has given employment to many
thousands of men.
We may form some idea of the vastness of the capital engaged in it from the fact that, upwards of
twenty years ago, the total stock was assumed to be not less than 33,630,050 swine, representing a
sum of £26,750,000 sterling; since then there have been more extensive developments of the trade
than ever. The principal centers, where the slaughtering, dressing, and packing are carried out, are
Chicago, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and Indianapolis.
 Lesson 19
Second Order of Levers
"We are going to talk about levers again this morning," said Mr. Wilson, "but we shall have to
deal with levers of a different kind from those with which I have already made you familiar. Perhaps
however, it would be better if I said that we are going to learn to use the lever in another way, rather
than call it a different kind of lever; for every lever, of whatever kind, is simply a rigid bar, and the
difference lies only in the manner in which we employ it.
"As a proof of this, we shall use our lath, as before, for a model lever, but this time I shall put
the fulcrum nail, not through the middle, but through a hole at one end. The levers we are now about to
consider always have the fulcrum at one end. We call them the second order of levers, to distinguish
them from those of the first order, in which the fulcrum lies somewhere between the two ends.
"Now that we have our lever-bar fixed at its fulcrum, you shall come and hold it horizontal,
Fred. You at once find that it requires considerable exertion, for you are supporting the lever itself,
which would otherwise fall by reason of its own weight. We must get rid of this difficulty before we
can set the lever to work.
"To do this I must call in the help of the little suspended wheel, with a grooved circumference,
which we used in our first lesson on machines. We will fasten one end of a fine cord to the last hole
(No. 6) in the bar, and pass the other end of it over the wheel. It will be easy now to attach to the free
end of the cord something just heavy enough to keep the bar horizontal, and after that we may
disregard its weight entirely. It is now merely a lever free to work on a fulcrum, placed at one
extremity.
"We will commence operations by hanging a 1 lb. weight to the hole in the bar (No. 6) from
which the cord passes over the wheel. This weight would cause the bar to fall, but I can at once bring
it to rest in the horizontal position by attaching a similar 1 lb. weight to the cord itself. That is to say,
a weight of 1 lb. at the end of the lever is supported by a power of 1 lb, acting also at the end of the
lever.
"This is just as we might have expected it to be, from what we already know. The weight-arm
and the power-arm are the same length; hence the weight and power must be equal.
 "Now, without interfering at all with the cord, or the weight attached to it, Fred shall remove the
1 lb. weight suspended from the end of the bar, and place it midway between the end and the fulcrum.
"Does the lever assume the horizontal position now? No; the two forces do not balance. It
requires a 2 lbs. weight at the middle of the lever to bring it to rest again in the horizontal position. In
other words, the cord, with its power of 1 lb. acting at the end of the lever, can support a weight of 2
lbs. suspended from the middle. The power-arm is twice as long as the weight-arm. If we continue
our experiments, we shall find that the same power of 1 lb. at the end of the lever will support a
weight of 3 lbs. suspended at one-third of that distance from the fulcrum, or a weight of 4 lbs. at one-
fourth of that distance.
"This, of course, is only repeating what we said about the other class of levers, except that with
these we always have the fulcrum at one end and, consequently, the power-arm and the weight-arm
are both on the same side of it.
"The distinctive point about these levers of the second order is that the power always acts at one
end, the fulcrum being at the other, and the weight somewhere between the two. The longer the
power-arm is, as compared with the weight-arm, the greater will be the weight which a given power
can raise; the power multiplied by the length of the power-arm is always the same as the weight
multiplied by the length of the weight-arm.
"In this second order of levers the weight is always nearer the fulcrum than the power can be, for
the power always acts at the opposite extremity of the bar. Hence the mechanical advantage gained by
such a machine is an increase of power.
"Our two boys on the see-saw illustrated a universal law in the science of levers—namely, that a
gain in power must be accompanied by a loss in speed. Let us apply this to our lever of the second
order to find how far it is true.
"We have seen that we do actually get an increase of power with these levers. Now think of the
power acting at the end of the long arm, and the weight somewhere between it and the fulcrum. It is
clear that the weight does not move so far or so quickly as the power.
"The mechanical advantage therefore of levers of the second order is gain in power, and this
means loss of speed. Let us now glance at a few practical examples of the use of this second order of
levers.

"A crow-bar in the act of raising a block of stone becomes a lever of the second order. In this
case the ground is the fulcrum, the weight of the stone rests on the bar between it and the power,
which acts by forcing the lever upwards.
"When the same crow-bar was used to raise the paving stone, the end of the lever was forced
under it, the fulcrum was formed by the neighboring stone, which lay between the power and the
weight, and the man overcame the resistance by pressing down on the power arm. We had then a lever
of the first order. A wheel-barrow is a very familiar example of a lever of the second order. The
fulcrum is placed at the axle of the wheel, the power is applied at the handles, and the weight lies
between the two.
 "A boatman's oar is another good example of the same order. Here the water is the fulcrum, the
boat itself the weight, and the man applies the power at the handle of the oar.
"A chopping-knife by its very action explains itself. You can have no difficulty in pointing out
fulcrum and power. The work of the machine is to overcome the resistance offered by the substance to
be chopped, which of course is placed between the fulcrum and the power.
"A pair of nut-crackers afford an illustration of a double lever of the second order, in which the
fulcrum, power, and resistance are very apparent."
 Lesson 20
Water, a Compound of Oxygen and Hydrogen
"Our lesson on combustion led us to form a clear conception of the whole process of burning,"
said Mr. Wilson. "We know that in the burning nothing is lost, nothing is destroyed; the substance,
whatever it is, enters into chemical combination with oxygen to form a new compound body. That is
all.
"I intend to devote our lesson this morning to the consideration of one element, and the results of
its combustion, or chemical union with oxygen.
"What is the name of that very inflammable gas which takes fire immediately a flame is brought
near it?"
"Hydrogen."
"Right. This gas, then, and its action in combining with oxygen, shall form the subject of our
lesson.
"We shall want some hydrogen for our experiments, and as you have seen me prepare the gas
before, perhaps you will be able to tell me how to proceed to make some now."
"You must put some zinc clippings into a flask, sir, with just enough water to cover them," said
Fred, "and then carefully pour in, through the funnel, some sulphuric acid, till the liquid mixture
begins to bubble all round the zinc. Those bubbles will be bubbles of hydrogen; the zinc separates the
hydrogen from the dilute sulphuric acid."

"Perfectly correct, my lad. Now do you remember that, when I last prepared this gas for you, I
was very careful to wait for some few minutes before I attempted to collect it for actual use?"
"Yes, sir. You waited till you were quite sure there was nothing coming from the flask but pure
hydrogen. The flask was at first filled with air, and, if any of that air were allowed to mingle with the
hydrogen, there would be an explosion as soon as a light was brought near it."
"You are right again, Fred; but why should there be an explosion? Let us try and find out. I will
follow your instructions carefully and prepare some hydrogen now. But while we are waiting for the
hydrogen, I will also prepare some oxygen, as I have the apparatus all ready."
Mr. Wilson waited till both gases were coming off pretty freely. He then filled an ordinary soda-
water bottle at the pneumatic trough, and inverted it in the water in the usual way. When all was ready
he held the delivery tube from the hydrogen flask under the mouth of the bottle till about two-thirds of
the water it contained had been displaced! He then rapidly removed this tube, and replaced it with the
one from the oxygen flask, so that the oxygen rose and filled the remainder of the bottle.
"Now," said he, "we have in the bottle a mixture of the two gases, hydrogen and oxygen, and
there is twice as much hydrogen as oxygen. Watch what takes place next."
He bound a thick towel well round the bottle, and holding it firmly in one hand, lifted it out of
the water, while with the other hand he brought a long lighted taper near the mouth. In an instant there
was a sudden, violent explosion.
"This," Mr. Wilson explained, as soon as the class had got over the shock, "is due to the strong
affinity which hydrogen has for oxygen. While the two were merely mixed together in the bottle, no
explosion took place, although the only thing wanted was a flame. But what has become of the two
gases now? The next experiment will tell us."
He proceeded to fit a small glass jet-tube to the cork in the hydrogen flask, in place of the long
delivery-tube, and when that was done he poured a few more drops of sulphuric acid down the
funnel-tube. The bubbling immediately began afresh, and hydrogen was again given off as before.
"This time," he said, "we will light the gas as it comes off at the jet."
He did so, and it burned there with a dull flame. While it was burning he held a large test-tube
over the flame, and in a short time it became covered on the inside with a dew-like deposit. These, he
explained, were drops of water; the hydrogen had burned, and formed water.

"Here we have," he said in conclusion, "another instance of combustion. Hydrogen and oxygen
have united chemically to form a new compound substance—water, and while uniting have evolved
light and heat.
"The combustion goes on quietly here, because only a very small quantity of hydrogen can
escape from the jet at one time. When the gases were mixed in larger quantities in the soda-water
bottle, the combustion was very sudden and very violent, and we had a loud explosion.
"Then, as now, however, the two gases combined to form water. Water always consists of these
two gases, hydrogen and oxygen, chemically united in the proportion of two to one.
"Remember that all wood, coal, oil, candles, gas—whatever we burn for fuel or lighting
purposes—contains hydrogen as well as carbon; therefore, whenever these things burn water-vapor
must be formed, and poured out into the air."
 Lesson 21
The Lungs
We have followed the course of the blood as it is sent out from the heart by the great main artery
—the aorta; we have seen it as it flows through the capillaries become polluted with carbonic acid,
water, and other products of the oxidation; we have traced this polluted stream back to the heart, and
then on to the lungs; and we know that it returns from the lungs cleansed and purified, and
reinvigorated with oxygen. Our next business is to find out how this change takes place in the lungs.
We must of course begin by examining the lungs themselves.

The lungs are the two large organs which, together with the heart, fill the entire cavity of the
thorax or chest. This cavity is a sort of conical or beehive-shaped box, having the spinal column, the
ribs, and the breast-bone for its side walls, and a stout, strong, fiat muscle—the diaphragm—for its
floor. It is a perfectly air-tight chamber, and both its floor and its walls are movable.
 The ribs are attached to the vertebral column by joints, which allow them a limited up-and-down
movement, and instead of passing horizontally round the body, they all slant downwards from their
junction with the column behind. It is easy to see that with such an arrangement the up movement of
the ribs must have the effect of enlarging the chamber, while their downward movement must have the
opposite effect.
The lungs themselves are soft, spongy, elastic, and of a pinkish-gray color. They are securely
attached both to the diaphragm (the floor) and to the sides of the thorax; so that there is absolutely no
space between them and the walls of the chamber in which they work.
The consequence is that when the walls and floor of the thorax move, and so enlarge or diminish
the size of the chamber, the lungs must expand or contract with them in order to accommodate
themselves to the space provided.
The back of the mouth and the nasal passages open into a large cavity, the pharynx, and from the
lower part of this a long, stout tube, the windpipe, extends downwards into the chest. This pipe,
which is formed of stout rings of gristle, can be felt. The rings make it hard and resisting to the touch,
and prevent it from collapsing with pressure. After entering the chest the windpipe branches into two
—the bronchi; one bronchus going to the right, the other to the left lung.

In the lungs these bronchi divide and subdivide again and again, forming bronchial tubes, and
end at last in extremely fine branches which spread themselves all through the substance of the organ.
In fact they actually form the substance of the lung itself, for each bronchial tube ends in a bunch of
little, hollow, elastic bladders, called air-cells, and it is the mass of these air-cells which make up the
entire lung. It is because each little air-cell itself is very elastic, that the whole lung has the power of
expanding and contracting.
The lungs expand to take in more air; they contract to drive the air out. The air, inhaled at the
mouth and nostrils, passes along the windpipe, bronchi, and bronchial tubes till it reaches the air-
cells of the lungs. Let us now leave the air-passages and air-cells, and turn our attention to the great
artery which brings the blood to the lungs to be cleansed.
This, the pulmonary artery, after leaving the right ventricle of the heart, divides into two
branches—one for each lung. In the lung each branch divides again and again, until at last it forms the
most delicate capillaries. These capillaries spread themselves through every nook and corner of the
substance of the lung.
But as we have seen, the substance of the lung is really the thin, delicate, bladder-like walls of
the air-cells, and it is round these little air-cells that the finest branches of the pulmonary capillaries
spread themselves. These little vessels, like all other capillaries, eventually re-unite into tiny
veinlets, and they in their turn continue to do the same, until at length they form four main pipes, the
pulmonary veins (two from each lung) which proceed to the left auricle of the heart.
It is important to remember that the pulmonary arteries are the only arteries in the body which
carry venous blood, and that it is this dark purple blood which flows through the capillaries of the
lungs. In those delicate vessels it is separated from the air in the air-cells by the finest possible
membrane, and here the exchange takes place. Oxygen from the air in the air-cells passes into the
blood, and carbonic acid and water from the blood finds its way into the air-cells in place of it.
The double exchange takes place through the actual membrane by osmosis. We have already
explained and illustrated this passage of fluids through a membrane in one of our earlier lessons.
It is in this way that the blood is purified, and re-invigorated with oxygen; and when at length it
is collected up by the pulmonary veins to be carried by them back to the heart, it is pure, bright,
arterial blood. These are the only veins in the body that carry arterial blood.
 Lesson 22
Wool
Nature provides each of her creatures with exactly the kind of covering suited to the climate and
the conditions under which it lives. In the extreme frozen north all animals are clothed with a thick,
warm, fur coat; in the temperate regions the fur gives place to wool; and in tropical climates the
animals are, for the most part, provided with a covering of thin, scanty hair.
Of all these animal coverings wool is by far the most useful to man. It is the peculiar, wavy,
scaly characteristic of wool that renders it valuable for the manufacture of textile fabrics, and it is this
same peculiarity which distinguishes wool from hair. Wool is usually classed according to the length
of its fiber.
The short-fiber or short-staple wool is very wavy, and contains a large number of scales; the
long-fiber or long-staple wool is less curly, has fewer scales, and at the same time it is coarser in
texture.
In England sheep are reared with a view rather to their flesh than their wool, and, as a rule,
English wool is inferior in quality to most of the foreign varieties. Manufacturers have to depend
largely on imported material, most of which is supplied by their own colonies, especially Australia,
New Zealand, South Africa, and India.

English sheep include, among the short-woolled varieties, the Dorsets and the South Downs. The
latter are a small breed, noted for the fineness of their wool, as well as for the quality of their flesh;
they are the most highly prized of the pure English breeds. Among the long-woolled kinds, the
Cotswold and Leicestershire breeds are considered the best. In sedition to these pure breeds there are
several well-known cross-breeds.
 The average weight of the fleece of an English sheep is from 5 to 7 lbs., but the quantity as well
as the quality of the wool depends entirely on the breed, the climate, and the soil and, therefore, the
sort of food available.
Among the foreign breeds the merino sheep stands first for the excellence of its wool, alike as
regards the fineness of its texture, its waviness, and the number of scales on its surface.

The true merino sheep is a handsome animal, the female as well as the male being horned. It was
originally a native of Spain, but has been introduced into nearly every sheep-rearing country in the
world. Wherever these sheep are bred they are highly cultivated, the principal object being wool. The
merino sheep of Saxony and Hungary are especially famous for both the quality and the quantity of
their wool. The fleece of the Saxon merino ram is never less than 7 1/2 lbs. in weight, and it
frequently reaches as much as 15 lbs.
These sheep have been introduced into England, and have greatly improved the English breeds.
They have also been extensively introduced into Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa.
The Continental varieties are tended with great care, housed in stables during the night, and
protected at all times from the inclemency of the weather. The sheep are frequently washed, not only
in cold water, but also with lint water and soap. The wool is very highly prized, and the sheep,
instead of being killed off for mutton, are allowed to live for ten or twelve years for the sake of their
annual fleece. As a matter of fact, in many of the foreign countries where sheep are bred, the flesh is
not considered fit for food. In Spain none but the poorest would think of eating mutton. Among the
other varieties of sheep are the broad-tailed sheep of Asia Minor, Tartary, and Northern Africa. The
heavy tail of this sheep is a mass of fat, often weighing as much as 20 or 30 lbs. This tail is
considered a great delicacy for the table, and so much trouble is taken to preserve it from injury, that
a small carriage is harnessed to the animal for the purpose of supporting it. This sheep is invaluable
to the people of those regions. Its milk and its flesh supply them with food, and its wool, although
very coarse, provides material for clothing.
Wool is, next to cotton, by far the most important material employed in the manufacture of textile
fabrics. The woollen manufacture in the United Kingdom is estimated to give direct employment to
more than a quarter of a million operatives; while the number of persons directly and indirectly
engaged, in and for all the branches of the trade, from the time the wool leaves the farmer to the
production of the manufactured article, is fully a million.
England's annual home-supply of wool ranges from 160 to 200 million lbs. weight. In addition to
this, they import every year from 500 to 600 million lbs. of foreign wool, at a cost of about
£25,000,000 sterling. Australian colonies supply the largest share of this, and every year marks an
improvement in Australian wool, both as regards quality and quantity. It is estimated that the sheep-
runs of New South Wales alone feed upwards of 30 million sheep.
It will readily be seen that the shearing of such immense numbers of sheep could never be
accomplished by the ordinary means adopted by farmers in their comparatively small farms. The
washing, which usually precedes the cutting of the wool, is done with the aid of machinery, and so
expeditiously that three sheep can be well washed in two minutes.
A large wooden tank about 3 feet deep is sunk in the ground. This is partly filled with warm
water, and the temperature is kept up by a steam pipe from an engine close by. This is known as the
soaking tank, and the sheep are placed in it and rubbed over, the warm water loosening the dirt in the
wool. On the edge of the soaking tank stands an iron tank raised about 8 feet from the ground. This is
kept filled with cold water by means of a pump worked by the engine, and in the side of the tank, near
the bottom, are several horizontal slits, which can be opened and closed at will. When they are
opened the water pours from them in several torrents.
 After the sheep have been soaked and rubbed sufficiently, they are held under these rushing
streams of cold water from the upper tank, and this effectually washes away all the dirt from the
wool.
Machinery is also used for removing in a marvellously rapid way the wool from the pelts in the
tanyards, but the shearing of the live animals of course has to be done by hand.
 Lesson 23
Third Order of Levers
"You see, boys, I have fitted up our model lever again for a lesson," began Mr. Wilson. "There is
still another kind of lever calling for our attention; it differs in its arrangements from both the orders
which we have already studied. We shall speak of it as a lever of the third order.
"If you examine the model, you will see that it is arranged, so far as its fulcrum is concerned, in
exactly the same way as we arranged it for the lever of the second order; that is to say, the fulcrum is
placed at one end.
"Can you tell me the relative positions of the power and the weight in levers of the second
order?"
"Yes, sir," replied Will, "the power is always at the end of the lever, opposite the fulcrum, and
the weight or resistance somewhere between the two."
"Quite right, my lad, and in the third order the difference is that these relative positions of the
power and weight are changed. In the third order of levers the weight is always at the end opposite
the fulcrum, and the power acts between them. Turning now to our model, we will first get rid of the
difficulty arising from the weight of the bar itself. If we support it, as we did before, over the grooved
wheel with a cord and a sufficiently heavy weight, we shall have our lever ready for work.
"Let us begin, as before, by hanging our 1 lb. weight at the end of the lever. This time, however,
we will attach the cord to the middle hole in the bar, and pass it over the grooved wheel above. This
cord shall represent, as it did in the other case, the power, but it is acting now just half-way between
the fulcrum and the weight.
"Take the end of the cord in your hand, Fred, and support the lever, so as to keep it balanced in a
horizontal position. What is the weight you are holding up?"
"The 1 lb. weight hanging at the end of the bar, sir," replied Fred.
"Just so, my lad. Now let us see what force you are exerting on the cord to support this 1 lb. at
the end of the lever. I will attach another 1 lb. weight to the cord, but now if you let go, the lever no
longer rests horizontally— the two do not balance. We shall require 2 lbs. hanging from the cord to
balance the 1 lb. at the end of the lever. That is to say, you had to exert just now a downward force of
2 lbs. to keep the bar horizontal.
"You ought to be able, from what we have already done, to tell me the reason for this. The
weight-arm is twice as long as the power-arm; therefore, the power must be twice as great as the
weight.
"If we remove the cord for further experiments, we shall find that when we attach it to the
second hole, i.e. at one-third the distance from the fulcrum, we shall require 3 lbs. at the end of it to
balance the 1 lb.; and 6 lbs, weight will be necessary to preserve the balance, with the cord attached
to the first hole, which is one-sixth of the distance from the fulcrum. It is now clear that, in levers of
the third order, the power, being nearer the fulcrum than the weight, must always be greater than the
weight. In other words, it takes a great power to raise a small weight. There is a loss of power. But
the law of levers says that loss of power means gain in speed. Let us see whether this is true of the
third order of levers as well as the others.
 "Indeed, you shall see for yourselves. I will attach a very small additional weight to the cord,
and leave the model to take its own course. The balance is at once upset; the weight at the end of the
lever is carried rapidly upwards, and it moves through a much greater space than the weights at the
end of the cord.
"Hence we see that in levers of the third order there is no gain, but an actual loss of power; the
mechanical advantage is a gain of speed.
"A shovel in the hands of a man, shovelling up coals, sand, or corn, will give a good illustration
of the use of this kind of lever. The handle held in one hand becomes the fulcrum; the coal, sand, or
corn to be lifted is the weight; and the power is applied by the other hand to some point in the shaft,
between the weight and the fulcrum.

"The man gains nothing in power—he actually loses power, for the force he expends is greater
than the weight he lifts. When the weight is greater than usual, he shifts his power-hand down—nearer
the weight. Why?

"What he loses in power, however, he gains in speed, and the heap of coals is rapidly moved.
"A man with a pitchfork and a load of manure, hay, or straw is, of course, a similar illustration.
"A simple illustration of this kind of lever is also afforded by the treadle of a sewing-machine, a
harmonium, a grindstone, or a lathe. The hinge of the treadle of course forms the fulcrum; the weight
to be moved is attached to the opposite end, and the power is applied by the foot on the treadle itself.
"There is no gain of power. The person using the machine expends greater force than is
represented by the weight lifted. But speed is the thing desired here, not increase of power. Think of
the sewing-machine.
The movement of the foot on the treadle is slight as compared with the greater and more
extended movement of the crank at the back of it, and of the wheels which it causes to fly round.
There is a gain of speed.
"One other familiar illustration of these levers is presented when a man raises a long ladder with
the lower end pressed close up to the wall. That lower end is, of course, the fulcrum. Think of the
ladder as it lies on the ground. The man takes the opposite end in his hand and raises it, moving
downwards from one round of the ladder to another. For a long time the weight is between him and
the fulcrum, and the ladder is a lever of the second order. After a time, however, as he still moves on,
he gets between the weight and the fulcrum, and the rest of the raising movement shows the work of a
lever of the third order."
 Lesson 24
Air, a Mixture of Gases
"I want you to think for a few minutes about our experiment with the soda-water bottle, and what
it taught us," said Mr. Wilson. "You remember, of course, that I filled the bottle with a mixture of the
two gases, oxygen and hydrogen. I might have corked up the bottle and left it for any length of time,
and in the end it would have contained, not water, but merely a mixture of the two gases, each one
possessing its individual and distinctive properties. The flame, however, changed them entirely. With
the explosion there was a chemical union of the two gases into a totally new compound—water—
possessing the characteristics of neither.
"After this little recapitulation, we may now turn to the subject of today's lesson—the air.
"You remember, I daresay, the experiment which helped us to find out the composition of air. I
have everything ready to repeat the experiment now. You shall tell me, as before, how I am to
proceed."
"You have only to float the saucer in the water, sir," said Will, "with the little piece of lighted
phosphorus on it, and then cover it with the bell-jar."

Mr. Wilson followed the directions, with the usual results. The water rose in the jar to take the
place of the oxygen, which the phosphorus had removed by its combustion. That which was left above
the water, in the upper part of the jar, was the gas—nitrogen. The jar originally contained four times
as much nitrogen as oxygen. The oxygen was now all gone, and four-fifths of the jar was filled with
nitrogen.
Mr. Wilson proved it to be nitrogen by plunging a lighted taper into it. The taper was
immediately extinguished. Nitrogen is characterized by its negative properties. It does not support
combustion, and is itself uninflammable.
"But," said he, "we actually saw the phosphorus burning in the jar of air. Why did it burn?"
"Because," replied Fred, "although four-fifths of the air in the jar consisted of nitrogen, a non-
supporter of combustion, the remaining one-fifth was oxygen, and it was the oxygen that supported the
burning."
 "But," said Mr. Wilson again, "water contains more oxygen in proportion than air, for one-third
of its bulk is oxygen, and yet we know that the oxygen in the water cannot support combustion. Water
at once extinguishes all fire. Why should the oxygen in the air be able to do what the oxygen in the
water cannot do?
"Let me make this clear to you. In the first place, although water contains a large amount of
oxygen, that oxygen is in chemical union with the other element, hydrogen. It is not free; it forms, for
the time, an inseparable constituent of the new substance—water; it has lost all its own distinctive
properties. The properties of water are totally different from those of either of its constituent gases.
"On the other hand, the oxygen and nitrogen, as constituents of the air, have entered into no
chemical union. Each is free; each retains its own individual properties. The oxygen of the air is still
the active agent and promoter of burning or combustion, although by being diluted with four times its
bulk of nitrogen, it has lost much of its power.
"I am now going to prepare some oxygen in the usual way and, as the gas comes off, I will let it
pass, by means of the delivery-tube, into the bowl of water in which our jar of nitrogen stands. You
will see it rise in bubbles, and gradually displace the water in the jar."
When all the water had left the jar Mr. Wilson called attention to the fact that there was now a
mixture of nitrogen and oxygen in it, the quantity of nitrogen being four times that of the oxygen. He
reminded the class that there was no flash, no heat, no explosion, when these gases mingled. They
were not chemically united—they were merely mixed, as we might mix salt or sugar with sand; water
with wine or vinegar.
"Now," said he, "we will plunge the lighted taper into the mouth of the jar." He did so, but the
flame itself did not cause any explosion. The taper burned as quietly inside as it did outside the jar,
but no brighter.
"Remember," he added in conclusion, "the taper went out immediately when we plunged it into
the pure nitrogen just now. But here we have a mixture of nitrogen and oxygen. It is the diluted oxygen
which maintains the flame of the taper. We have actually made a jar of ordinary atmospheric air."
 Lesson 25
Varieties of Wool
In our former investigations into the general properties of wool, and the leading facts connected
with the woollen trade and manufacture, we dealt only with the wool of the sheep and, generally
speaking, whenever we think of wool, it is the sheep's wool that we mean.
Other animals, however, besides the sheep yield valuable wool; we shall now proceed to
examine them and their products, one by one.
They are all ruminants; among them the most closely allied to the sheep is the goat. The common
goat has a more or less coarse covering of long hair, but some of the goat family are clothed in wool
of excellent quality.
The most important of the wool-bearing goats is the Asiatic, or, more properly speaking, the
Angora goat. It has a long, white, silky fleece, which is clipped annually, and averages from 2 to 3
lbs. in weight.
Angora wool is in great demand; England's annual imports reach, on an average, 7,000,000 lbs.
weight, and are valued at £1,000,000 sterling. It is known as "mohair," and it varies in quality
according to the length and fineness of its staple and the softness and silkiness of its appearance. The
manufacture of this wool is confined to the West Riding of Yorkshire.

The Angora goat has been transported from its original home into many parts of the world, and is
now successfully reared in South Africa, in several of the Australian colonies, and in the United
States, especially on the western or Pacific slopes. In all these places the stock is increasing rapidly,
as the animals are exceedingly prolific.
In very close relationship to the Angora goat are the Thibet, Persian, and Circassian goats.
Indeed, all four are one and the same animal, differing only according to the varying conditions under
which they live.
 The Thibet, more generally known as the Cashmere goat, has long been famous for the soft,
downy silkiness of its wool. The best of it is known as pashum, or shawl wool, and is manufactured
locally into costly shawls. Much tedious care and labor are bestowed on the production of these
shawls, each part of the process being allotted to separate individuals. Indeed, it is said that the
manufacture of one pair of shawls has been known to occupy every member of a workshop for a year
and a half. As a consequence of this extreme care on the part of the manufacturer, these Cashmere
shawls are very expensive and greatly prized. The production of a single shawl often represents as
much as £600 or £700; and Eastern potentates always bestow these costly shawls upon their most
distinguished visitors, as a special mark of their favor.
The llama is another important wool-bearing animal. It is a native of South America, where it is
used as a beast of burden. Even the cottagers of Peru have their little flocks of these animals, perhaps
a dozen or more, to carry their goods to market. The more important traders usually drive them, with
their burdens, in flocks varying from 500 to 1000.

The llama wool is not exported from Peru, as it is much in demand locally for the manufacture of
carpets, sacking, and ropes. The llama family include, in addition to the llama itself, the alpaca, the
vicuna, and the guanaco.
 Of these the most important by far, as regards the wool, is the alpaca. The fleece, which is shorn
annually, averages from 7 to 12 lbs. in weight, and is superior to the wool of the sheep for the length
and softness of its fiber.

The Peruvians set such high value on this animal that they long guarded it with jealous care. The
consequence was that the value and beauty of alpaca wool were unknown to Europeans till quite
recent years.
Sir Titus Salt introduced it into this country, and set up the manufacture of alpaca goods in the
village which has since been called Saltaire from his name, and is today a flourishing town.
England's annual imports of alpaca wool now average from 4 million to 5 million lbs. weight,
and the alpaca manufacture ranks as one of their staple industries.
The manufacture of vicuna wool is still in its infancy, although this wool is said to be superior,
in many respects, to alpaca wool. The wool of the guanaco is not yet imported to any large extent into
this country.
The camel, both as a beast of burden and also as a wool-bearing animal, is to the East what the
llama is to the people of South America.
The wool of the camel is shorn every spring. That of the two-humped camel is highly valued for
the soft silkiness of its staple, and is made into costly articles of clothing. A shawl made of camel's
wool often fetches as much as £180.
Camel's hair is imported into this country mostly for the manufacture of delicate brushes or
pencils for painting. The camel is a marvellous example of Nature's beneficence in fitting each animal
for the special conditions under which it has to live. No other animal would be so suited to those
regions, either in its wild state or as a domesticated beast of burden.
In those dreary wastes of sand food and drink are to be obtained only at long intervals apart.
Nature provides the camel with what would seem at first sight an ugly, awkward encumbrance, in the
shape of an enormous hump on its back. That hump, however, is nothing but a huge mass of nutriment,
from which the creature can draw during the time of scarcity of proper food. In this animal, moreover,
the honeycomb bag, which is common to all ruminants, becomes a receptacle for storing a large
supply of water, so that a severe drought is of very little moment. It has cutting teeth in both jaws, and
powerful grinders for masticating the rough, prickly vegetation, which is the only sustenance it can
find on those sandy wastes. Its eyes, ears, and even its nostrils are specially protected against the
clouds of loose, shifting sand which often fill the air. Its foot consists of two toes, and has wide-
spreading cushions, which prevent the animal from sinking into the loose sand at every step, and even
its knees are provided with thick, hard skin, or callosities, to enable it to kneel on the burning sand
without injury. It always kneels to rest, and while it is being loaded.
 Lesson 26
The Work of Breathing
We have now a clear notion of the kind of work that goes on in the lungs—that incessant
exchange, by osmosis, through the delicate walls of the air-cells, and the capillaries which surround
them, enabling the blood to give up its impurities, and at the same time to take in fresh supplies of
oxygen. Think for a moment of those air-cells. The air which they contain is being perpetually
deprived of its oxygen, and loaded with carbonic acid and water-vapor in place of it. In a very short
time that air, if it were not constantly renewed, would lose the whole of its oxygen, and become
completely saturated with carbonic acid. This is why the work of breathing never stops, sleeping or
waking. The impure, vitiated air must be driven out, and pure air taFken into the lungs to supply its
place.
A healthy man, resting calmly in a sitting position, breathes from thirteen to fifteen times every
minute, but as soon as he begins to exert himself with exercise of any kind, the breathing becomes
more rapid, and continues to increase in rapidity in proportion to the exertion he makes.
Each breathing consists of three distinct acts, following each other in regular order. First, a
quantity of air is drawn in. This is called an inspiration—that is, a breathing in. As soon as the
inspiration is over the second act commences, and the air is driven out, or expelled, from the mouth
and nostrils. This is called an expiration, or a breathing out. Following the expiration comes a pause,
after which the same process is perpetually repeated, and always in the same order—inspiration,
expiration, pause—like some beautiful piece of machinery.
The mechanical work of breathing is due to three causes—the pressure of the atmosphere, the
elastic nature of the lungs themselves, and the character of the air-tight box which contains them.
The thorax is absolutely air-tight; no air can get in between the lungs and the outer walls of this
chamber. The lungs themselves, however, are full of air, which is brought to them by the windpipe
and other air-passages, and presses with a force of nearly 15 lbs. on every square inch. This
enormous pressure from within the lungs forces them outwards against the sides and floor of the
chamber. The chest itself is protected by a hard, resisting, bony cage, and not by soft, flabby walls, so
that, although the outer air is pressing with the same force, it cannot squeeze that chamber, nor affect
the lungs inside. The lungs, therefore, are pressed outwards against the walls of the chest by the air
within them, but they feel no pressure from without.
The ribs, which form the walls of the thorax, are jointed to their vertebrae by joints which allow
them a limited up-and-down movement. The spaces between the ribs are occupied by stout, strong
muscles, whose sole duty it is to move the ribs. One set of these muscles raises them, the other set
depresses them; and we have already seen that these respective movements enlarge and diminish in
turn the capacity of the chest.
Now let us turn to the diaphragm, which forms the floor of the chamber. It is attached to the ribs
all round, and the central part of it rises in the form of a hollow dome or arch. It is clear that, if such a
floor could be forced down in any way, it would considerably enlarge the chamber above.
You already know that this diaphragm is a stout, strong, muscular partition. Like all other
muscles, it has the power of contracting, and when it contracts its muscular fibres are shortened, so
that the dome or arch is pulled down and flattened. This contraction, and consequent pulling down of
the diaphragm, always takes place at the very moment when the ribs are being raised; hence the chest
is enlarged on all sides at once.
While this is going on the elasticity of the lungs enables them to stretch out, to fill the larger
space, and the air rushes in down the windpipe to fill all the little distended air-cells, or there would
be a vacuum. This is the whole mechanism of an inspiration.
Immediately after the inspiration the diaphragm ceases to contract, and springs back by its own
elasticity, while the ribs too are being depressed, so that the chest is diminished in size from both
causes at the same time. Meanwhile the lungs themselves assert their power by contracting, so that
each little air-cell is squeezed into smaller space. In this way some of the air is driven out from the
lungs, and we have an expiration.
 Lesson 27
The Pulley
"If you please, sir," began Fred one morning, "I have been thinking a good deal lately, first about
the levers, and then about that grooved wheel, which the workman uses to raise his materials from the
ground to the scaffold where he is working. I pictured to myself a large block of stone lying on the
ground ready for the workman to use, if he could only manage to raise it. I purposely forgot all about
the wheel, and began to wonder whether he could raise the stone with no other help than the lever."
"Well, my lad," replied Mr. Wilson, "and what conclusion did you arrive at?"
"I think he could do it, sir, but it would be done with tremendous expenditure of force and time.
The lever would only succeed in raising the stone a little way. Then he would have to prop it up in
that position, take another fulcrum, and raise it a little higher. All this would have to be repeated
again and again many, many times before he could raise the stone where he wanted it."
"Yes, Fred, you are right," said Mr. Wilson, "or he might fix his lever and its fulcrum on the
scaffold itself, and connect one end of it, by means of a rope or a chain, with the block of stone
below. The rope or the chain, as we have already seen, would transmit to one end any force which is
applied to it at the other. The man, by applying force to the lever at the top, would thus be enabled to
raise the block a short distance, as your man did with the lever on the ground. Then it would have to
be propped up and lifted, as before, little by little.

"But your plan as well as mine, Fred, would be exceedingly tedious, and wasteful as regards the
expenditure of force.
"Now let us see how this use of the lever first suggested the idea of another machine— the
pulley. I have here a short wooden bar or lath, similar to the one we used for our model lever, except
that it is only about a foot in length. I have drilled a hole through its center and we will fix it to the
edge of the table as before, leaving it free to move on a nail. The nail thus becomes the fulcrum, and
the bar is a lever of the first order, with equal arms. We will next attach a cord to the end of each arm,
and you, Fred, shall hold one of the cords in your hand, while I hang a weight to the extremity of the
other.
"Pull your cord down now, Fred, and you will find that, as the arm of the lever on that side is
lowered, the other rises on the fulcrum, and with it the cord and the weight attached to it. Continue the
pulling and let us see how far you can raise it. You see at once that you can bring the lever into a
vertical position, and so raise the weight a short distance, but beyond that it will not move.

"Now, instead of a single lever, I am going to show you a little contrivance, which consists
really of several levers, all of the same length, and so arranged as to cross each other at the same
point—the center of each. Through this centre I have drilled a hole as before. Our contrivance looks
very much like the spokes of awheel. Let us now fix our wheel up to the table edge by means of a nail
through its centre. The nail thus becomes the fulcrum of each of these separate levers. They are all
free to move on this point.
"Before we proceed further, I want you to notice that I have cut a groove in the extremities of
each lever. This groove shall receive the cord which is going to help us to do our work.
"Hold one end of the cord in your hand, Fred, as before, while I hang a weight to the other end.
Now pull your end of the cord down, and you will easily raise the weight at the opposite extremity.
Each spoke of the wheel in turn takes its share of the work, and acts as a separate lever.
"We are now in a position to pass to another little contrivance. Here is a circular wooden disc,
with a groove cut round the circumference, and a hole drilled through its center. On the face of the
disc I have marked plainly in chalk a number of diameters, to represent as many levers all crossing at
the center. If we fix the disc to the edge of the table in the usual way, and pass a cord with its weight
round the grooved circumference, the principle of action will be at once made quite clear. This
revolving wheel is nothing but a succession of levers of the first order.

"Your mind goes back, of course, to the grooved wheel which the workman used on the scaffold,
and you are quite right, although we are now going to give it a better name. The weight at one end of
the cord is raised by the person pulling at the other end. Hence we call this grooved wheel a pulley.
We also call it a fixed pulley, because it is fixed, and works on some kind of pivot at its center.
"Suppose we next think for a moment, not of the wheel itself, but of some one of its imaginary
levers. These are all of the same length; they are diameters of the same circle. Each one has two equal
arms.
"Now, if I wish to raise a stone weighing 50 lbs. with a lever of the first order, having equal
arms, what force must I use?"
"The force or power must be equal to the weight, sir," replied Fred, "because the arms of the
lever are equal."
"Then are we to understand that such a lever gives no mechanical advantage?"
"It does give an advantage, sir, although not in the amount of force required, but in the direction
in which the force is applied. We raise the weight by applying the power downwards, not by lifting
it."

"Quite right, Fred, and what is true of a single lever ought to be true of a number, and hence also
of the pulley.
"We have seen that it is true of the pulley as regards direction. Let us next see whether it is also
true with respect to the amount of force required.
"If I hang a cord over the pulley, with equal weights at its extremities, they will balance, and the
smallest addition to either will cause the other to rise. Hence we see that the forces on either side of
such a pulley must be equal if they are to balance. There is no mechanical advantage so far as the
amount of force is concerned."
 Lesson 28
Chlorine
"In the course of our lessons I have made you acquainted with a great many gases," began Mr.
Wilson. "We have had them before us in bottles and other glass vessels; we have experimented with
them; and yet we have never seen them. You have been obliged, in each case, to trust to my statement
at first that the gas was there at all, although we have always proved its presence afterwards by its
action. This morning I am going to actually show you a gas. I will put equal quantities of common salt
and black oxide of manganese into this mortar, and you shall crush and mix the two well together for
me, Fred, while I get everything else ready."
He first diluted a little sulphuric acid with an equal quantity of water, and stood the mixture
aside for a time to cool, and then arranged a flask, the Bunsen burner, and a number of perfectly dry
gas-jars on the table ready to hand. As soon as the dilute acid was cool enough, he put into the flask
the powdered mixture which Fred had prepared, and poured the dilute acid on it, till it began to look
like a thin paste at the bottom. He then passed the flame to and fro under the flask, so as to apply the
heat gradually and gently. In a very short time a dense yellowish-green gas was seen to rise rapidly,
and pass along the delivery-tube into the dry bottles, one after the other.
"This gas is the element chlorine," said Mr. Wilson. "It is a heavy gas—2.5 times as heavy as
air. Hence, as it collects at the bottom of the bottle, it forces the air out at the top. We are collecting
the gas by displacement, just as we collect carbonic acid gas."
As soon as all the gas jars were filled, Mr. Wilson had them covered, and the whole of the
apparatus removed from the room. He explained to the boys that this gas is a violent irritant, and
would set them coughing if they breathed it.
"Now," said he, when everything was ready again, "we have plenty of chlorine; let us see what
we can learn about it."
He began by taking one of the jars and lowering into it the deflagrating spoon with a piece of
phosphorus in it about the size of a pea. The phosphorus immediately took fire, and burned in the
chlorine with a pale green flame, till it was all consumed. This bottle, closed as it was, he then set
aside. He next showed the class a leaf of Dutch metal, and told them that it was really copper-leaf.
This he lowered into the second jar of chlorine, and it was no sooner placed in the gas than it ignited
and burned with a smoky flame.
"Now, boys," said he, "before we go any further let us think over what has taken place. In each
case we have seen a spontaneous chemical action going on. Both the phosphorus and the Dutch metal
ignited of their own accord in the jars of chlorine gas.
"In the first bottle the phosphorus united with the chlorine gas to form a new compound, giving
off light and heat during the combination. In the second bottle the copper also united with chlorine to
form a new compound, and in this case too heat and light were evolved during the process.
"Now we have already given a name to this kind of chemical action. We call it combustion. But
we have hitherto always associated oxygen with the act of combustion. Here, however, we find a new
gas—chlorine—as a supporter of combustion, and we see that the usual heat and light are evolved
during the chemical combination. When chlorine combines with another element the new compound
formed is called a chloride. Thus the compound formed by the combustion of phosphorus in chlorine
is a new substance—chloride of phosphorus; the compound formed, in like manner, by the combustion
of the copper is a substance known as chloride of copper.
"Similarly, chlorine forms compounds or chlorides with nearly all the elements.
"I have a most important chloride to show you now. You remember, of course, the metal
potassium. Here is another metal very similar to it, and like it, this one must be kept bottled up in
naphtha or paraffin. We call it sodium."
He took a piece out of the bottle, and cut off a small pellet from it, calling attention, as he did so,
to the bright silvery lustre of the newly-cut edge. He placed the pellet of sodium in the deflagrating
spoon, and held it in the flame of the Bunsen burner till the metal was in a molten state. In this
condition he lowered it into the other jar of chlorine, and in an instant the liquid metal took fire, and
burned with intense heat and a very bright glowing light. As the light died away the jar was seen to be
filled with dense white fumes.
"Now it is clear from what we have already seen," began Mr. Wilson again, "that as the sodium
has been burned in chlorine, there must be a new compound formed, and that compound must be
chloride of sodium."
He pointed out the deposit on the bottom of the jar, left there by the condensation of the white
fumes.
"This substance then," said he, "must be the chloride of sodium. Let us see what it is like."
He poured a little water into the jar, and after washing it round, asked the boys to dip their
fingers into it and taste it.
"Why, it tastes just like salt," said Fred.
"Yes, my lad, it does," said Mr. Wilson, "for it is really salt. The chemical name for the common
salt which we use every day is chloride of sodium.
"It is important to remember that neither the gas, chlorine, nor the metal, sodium, is ever found in
the pure or free state in nature. The waters of the ocean and the vast beds of rock-salt in the crust of
the earth contain abundant supplies of them in this compound form— chloride of sodium."
 Lesson 29
The Woollen Manufacture
The woollen manufacture can boast of greater antiquity than any of our national industries, for it
was originally introduced into England by the Romans during their occupation of the country. Under
certain of the Norman and Plantagenet kings, notably William the Conqueror, Henry II, and Edward
III, much was done to improve the manufacture, by bringing over skilled weavers from Flanders, and
settling them in various parts of the country; as well as by making special laws for the protection of
the wool trade. To Edward III must be ascribed the credit of having firmly established it as a settled
industry of the country.
The total value of England's woollen manufactured goods now averages about £100,000,000
sterling each year. It is estimated that we retain for home use about three-quarters of this output; the
rest is exported.
There are several branches of the woollen manufacture. They include broadcloths, such as
meltons, beavers, pilot-cloths, and other similar fabrics, all of which are woven from 56 to 60 inches
wide; narrow-cloths, such as doeskin, kerseymere, and tweeds, which are only about 27 inches wide;
special kinds of cloth for upholstering furniture and carriages; and lastly, blankets, flannels, and
shawls.
These woollen cloths, as a rule, differ from other fabrics in being felted or fulled. The man who
does this is called a fuller, and the object of the fulling is to mat the threads of the woven fabric
together into a mass, so as to destroy the appearance of the warp and woof of the weaving, and to
produce a smooth nap on the surface of the cloth. The short-staple wool, with its numerous curls and
scales, is always employed in the manufacture of these fabrics.
This branch of the manufacture is carried on in Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, and Somersetshire,
and is known as the West of England broadcloth trade. It also forms an important part of the industry
of the West Riding of Yorkshire.
Worsted or stuff goods include merinoes, serges, cashmeres, reps, bombazines, damasks,
moreens, and poplins—some of which are made entirely of wool, others are mixtures of wool with
cotton, linen, or silk. They are all made from the combed fibers of the long-staple wool, and are
easily distinguishable from the woollen cloths. They all leave the loom of the weaver as finished
fabrics, and are not afterwards fulled.
The manufacture of worsted goods is carried on at Bradford, Halifax, Leeds, and York, and in
Worcester-shire and Norfolk. It is estimated that there are in the United Kingdom no fewer than 650
factories engaged in this branch of the manufacture alone, employing about 120,000 operatives. The
U.K. exports every year worsted goods to the value of more than £21,000,000 sterling, and this
probably represents about one-half the entire production.
The worsted trade was first introduced into England in the Middle Ages by some Flemish
weavers who settled in the little Norfolk village of Worsted. Hence it is that the name of the place has
been given to this class of goods.
Hosiery is extensively made in Leicestershire, and woollen yarn is spun at various towns in the
West Riding of Yorkshire, and at Lancaster and Derby.
 The manufacture of carpets is another very important branch of the woollen trade. Several
varieties of carpets are made in the United Kingdom, such as Brussels, tapestry, Wilton,
Kidderminster, Axminster, druggets, and felts. The last named—felts—ought not, properly speaking,
to be classed among woollen goods, as they are made from cow-hair felted together. The body or
backing of Brussels carpet has strong linen threads for both warp and woof; the backing of tapestry is
woven from cheap yarn often made of cotton waste. Hence a Brussels carpet is much more
serviceable than a tapestry.
In Scotland the woollen manufacture is confined to the making of tweeds, plaids, and woollen
shawls.
The manufacture of shoddy cloth from old woollen rags is not only a boon to the poor in
providing them with cheap clothing, but is also a grand lesson in thrift. Since the introduction of this
branch of the trade every scrap of woollen cloth, from the worn-out coat of the well-to-do man, to the
dirty, greasy, tattered rags of the beggar, is made to do duty a second time—to live a second life, so to
speak. From the rag-merchant they find their way to the shoddy factory. There they are first thoroughly
cleansed, and then torn up by machinery into shreds or flock, as it is called. The flock is spun into
new yarn, and woven into new cloth for further use.
This shoddy manufacture is carried on very extensively at Batley, Dewsbury, and most of the
large manufacturing towns in the West Riding of Yorkshire. It is estimated that in these shoddy
factories no less than 50,000,000 lbs. of useful material is produced every year from these woollen
rags, which were formerly cast away as waste. In addition to England's own waste rags, they import
for the same purpose further supplies from foreign countries, amounting in the total to nearly
60,000,000 lbs. There is a similar kind of material known as mungo. This is made, not from old rags,
but from tailors' cuttings.
Before leaving the subject we must glance at one other very interesting branch of manufacture
from waste woollen rags, namely, the making of "flock wall-papers."
The wool for this purpose is torn up, ground very fine indeed, and then sifted to remove all large
particles. It is then dyed various colours, and powdered over the newly-varnished surface of the most
elegant and expensive wall-papers. The powdered flock produces the beautiful velvet or flock pile
which makes them resemble richly figured tapestry.
 Lesson 30
The Movable Pulley
"I saw some men yesterday, sir, raising chests of tea to a loft in a warehouse by means of the
pulley," said Fred. "But I have been very much puzzled ever since about that pulley; it was not fixed
to a beam, as ours was the other day, but moved up and down the rope. There was a hook fixed to the
pulley itself, and this held the chests which had to be raised.''

"Ah, Fred," said Mr. Wilson, "your puzzle is nothing more than a block-pulley. Here is one; see,
it answers in every way to your description, and it has a hook at one end of it. Let me explain how it
is used.
"I will pass this cord round it, and fasten one end of the cord to the cross-beam of our stand.
Now we will hook a 2 lbs. weight to the pulley, and you shall mount on the table, and support it by
holding the other end of the cord. Try and keep the two parts of the cord parallel, while we examine
the working.
"Pull the cord upwards, and watch what happens. As you pull, the block rises and carries with it
the weight which is attached to it.
This pulley, you see, instead of being a fixture like the one in our former lesson, moves upwards
when force is applied to the cord. We call it a movable pulley.
"Now the entire weight supported by the block is 2 lbs. The block, that is to say, is being pulled
downwards, with a force of 2 lbs., the force of gravity due to the weight of the body itself, and this
weight of 2 lbs. is supported by two cords.
"Now I want you to notice that there is a strain or tightness about the two cords. We call this
strain the tension of the cord. In the present case, as the 2 lbs. weight is supported by two cords, each
one (or rather each part of the cord) ought to bear half the strain or tension. That is to say, you ought to
be supporting the 2 lbs. weight with the expenditure of a force of 1 lb. at your end of the cord.
"If this be true, the movable pulley gives a distinct mechanical advantage, as far as power and
weight are concerned. Any given power will raise a weight of twice its value.
"But what have you to say about direction? Is there any advantage in the direction in which the
power is applied?"
"I don't think there is, sir," replied Fred, "and I ought to know, for I have been supporting the
weight all this time by pulling the cord upwards."
"You are quite right, Fred; the single movable pulley gives no advantage in direction. At the
same time it gives us no means of testing the truth of our statement with respect to the tension in the
cord. But we will test it, for all that.
"You shall pass the free end of the cord over the fixed pulley, suspended from the beam, and
after taking care to see that the two parts of the cord are parallel, we will then hang a 1 lb. weight at
that end, and leave the machine to take care of itself. The result is proof at once. The 1 lb. force at the
end of the cord balances the 2 lbs. weight hanging from the block.
"We have already learned that the fixed pulley, from its very nature, gives no advantage in power
—a certain weight on one side requires an equal weight on the other to balance it. In other words, the
tension of the cord on both sides is the same. But our pulley tells us that the tension of the cord on one
side is 1 lb. Therefore the tension of that on the other side is 1 lb. also.
The movable pulley gives a mechanical advantage in power. It divides the weight equally
between the two parts of the cord. Hence, by using a fixed pulley with a movable pulley we get a
double advantage. The movable pulley divides the weight between the two cords, so that only half the
force is necessary, and the fixed pulley effects a change in direction downwards.
"Just one thought more. We will first lower the 2 lbs. weight, and then you shall raise it by
pulling the opposite end of the cord down over the fixed pulley. Notice that the distance through
which the power end of the cord moves is twice that through which the weight moves. In other words,
the weight moves at only half the speed and through half the distance travelled by the power. We see
once more that gain in power means loss in speed."
 Lesson 31
Plants Useful for Food (Ⅴ)

Spices
We have now to deal with another very useful class of vegetable products, distinguished by their
powerful aromatic odor and pungent flavor, and known by the common name of spices. It is to these
special properties that they owe their importance. They are valuable as flavorers. Chief among them
are the clove, nutmeg, mace, cinnamon, ginger, pepper, and allspice.
The clove is the dried flower-bud of a kind of myrtle-tree. The tree itself is a very beautiful
ever-green, which grows four or five times as high as a man.
When the flower-buds first appear they are of a pale yellow color, but they gradually pass to
green, and finally to a bright red. As soon as they begin to turn red, and before they open into actual
flower, they are plucked and dried in the sun. When dried, they assume the dark brown color with
which we are familiar. The little round knob or ball at the end of the clove is the actual corolla of the
flower folded up. The name clove is given from the Latin davits, a nail, because the clove is said to
resemble a little nail.
Cloves are used by the cook and confectioner for flavoring purposes. When pressed they yield a
useful volatile oil, known as oil of cloves, which is largely employed in perfumery and medicine.
The clove is a native of the Moluccas or Spice Islands, but it is now grown in Sumatra, the
Mauritius, Zanzibar, Brazil, and the West Indies.
The nutmeg, another valuable spice, is the seed of an evergreen tree, which is a native of the
Moluccas, and is now grown in most of the East India Islands, in the West Indies, and in South
America.
The fruit when ripe is a rich golden yellow, and something like a peach. Indeed, it is a kind of
stone-fruit. The outer fleshy part encloses the stone, the hard brown shell of which contains a round
nut or kernel—the actual nutmeg. As the fruit ripens the outer fleshy covering splits, and then may be
seen the dark brown, almost black shell of the kernel, enclosed within a leafy-looking network of a
brilliant red color.
This is the time for gathering. The fleshy outside part is not unlike candied fruit, and is preserved
and eaten as a sweetmeat. The bright red network-covering is stripped from the shell and dried. As it
dries it assumes a yellow color; it is the mace of commerce, in itself a distinctive and very useful
spice.
The nuts, with the mace removed, are carefully dried in the sun, until the kernels begin to shrink,
and can be heard to rattle in the shell. The shells are then broken with wooden mallets, and the
kernels—the actual nutmegs— sorted for use.
The smallest of the nutmegs are not sent into the market. They are pressed, and made to yield a
valuable volatile oil, known in commerce both as oil of mace and oil of nutmeg.
Cinnamon, which we have next to consider, is neither the flower-bud nor the fruit. It is the inner
bark of another tropical evergreen. The best cinnamon is grown in Ceylon, but it is now to some
extent cultivated in China and South America.
The tree is usually grown from seed, and the branches are cut when they are from two to three
years old. They are then about the size of an ordinary cane. The bark is peeled off with a knife, and
laid in the sun to dry. As it dries it turns brown, and curls up into little rolls as we usually see it.
Cinnamon is a very valuable spice, and is largely used in cookery, confectionery, and perfumery.
Ginger is the underground stem of a plant, something like a common reed, which is cultivated in
most tropical countries. It was originally a native of Southern Asia and the adjoining islands, but is
now largely grown also in the West Indies. The ginger of Jamaica fetches the best market prices. A
delicious sweetmeat is made by preserving the young shoots in sugar-syrup. It is known as candied or
preserved ginger.
Although pepper may be regarded rather as a condiment than a spice, it is usually classed among
the spices.
Pepper is the berry of a climbing shrub, which, although a native of the East Indies, is now
cultivated in most tropical countries.
We use the berries whole as well as ground. Black pepper and white pepper come from the same
berry. If the dried berry is ground as it is, we get black pepper; white pepper is obtained by soaking
the berries in water, and rubbing off the black outer covering.
Allspice is the berry of an evergreen shrub—the pimento; it is sometimes called Jamaica pepper.
It is grown in that island and the other West India Islands, and in South America. The name allspice is
given to the berry because it is said to have the flavor of cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon combined.
 Lesson 32
Carbon
"You all know this light, brittle, porous, black substance," began Mr. Wilson. "It is charcoal, or,
to use the language of the chemist, carbon. Carbon, then, is to be the subject of our lesson this
morning.
"Carbon is the main basis of all vegetable matter. If a plant be carefully dried, so as to drive off
all the water it contains, more than half of what remains will be this substance, carbon."
Mr. Wilson then proceeded to show the class some carbon, which he had prepared in readiness
for the lesson.
"Look at this piece of iron gas-pipe," he said, "it is full of carbon. This morning I filled it with
chips of wood, closed up both ends with clay, bored a few holes in the clay stopping, and then put the
pipe into the hottest and brightest part of the fire. After a time I removed it from the fire, and left it to
cool.
"Let us now break away the clay, and see what we have inside. The wood has been changed in
the pipe into charcoal or carbon, exactly like the piece I showed you just now.
"You must clearly understand that the wood has not been burned. If we put some similar chips on
the fire, and let them burn in contact with the oxygen of the air, we shall notice that the whole of the
substance will disappear, leaving nothing but a little white ash. By placing the wood in the closed
pipe, within the fire, we caused the wood to decompose or separate into its constituents. Some of
these constituents passed off, in the form of gases, through the holes in the clay, but the carbon itself,
being closed in, was not allowed to come into contact with the oxygen of the air, and was therefore
not consumed.
"We have already said that carbon is the chief constituent of all plants. We obtained it from the
wood chips, and we could obtain it from any vegetable matter.
"Now, think for a moment of coal, which, you know, is formed from the buried remains of the
forests of far-distant ages. The vegetation of those times, like the vegetation we meet with now, had
carbon as its chief constituent; hence the coal which we burn today consists very largely of carbon. If
we heat coal in a closed vessel, as we did the chips of wood, we shall find this constituent, carbon,
left behind in the form of coke, while all the other constituents pass off as gases."
Mr. Wilson next crushed a few pieces of lump-sugar in a mortar, put the powder into a saucer,
made a syrup by pouring hot water on it, and then added a few drops of sulphuric acid. The syrup
instantly turned color, and swelled up into a black mass, resembling a piece of coke.
"Sugar, you know," said he, when the class had got over their surprise, "is a vegetable substance;
it is prepared from the sweet juice of the sugar-cane, beetroot, maple, and other plants. It is clear that
the juice contains carbon, for the black mass you now see is simply carbon which has been set free by
the sulphuric acid.
"Turning next to the animal world, we know that man and all animals feed directly or indirectly
on plants. Hence the carbon of the plant is used to build up the tissues of the animal. There is carbon
in all the tissues of the body; a special kind of charcoal, known as ivory black, is prepared from
bones.
 "Fat consists very largely of carbon, and the presence of carbon can soon be detected in the
charring of the joint of meat before the fire, if the cook forgets to turn it.
"Among mineral substances carbon forms an important constituent in limestone and other rocks,
and in plumbago, graphite, or black-lead, as it is sometimes called. The beautiful diamond—the most
precious and brilliant of all gems—is simply a special form of carbon.
"Let us now have an old experiment, performed in a somewhat different way. I have here a jar of
oxygen which I prepared in readiness for our lesson. I will place this piece of carbon in the
deflagrating spoon, heat it to redness in the flame of the Bunsen burner, and then plunge it into the
oxygen.
"The combustion goes on with greatly increased brilliancy, showing the powerful affinity that
exists between carbon and oxygen. This is why, in preparing the carbon for the lesson, I put the chips
of wood into the closed pipe. If they had been in contact with the oxygen of the air, the whole of the
substance of the wood would have been consumed. You have already become familiar with the
product formed by this combustion of carbon in oxygen. You call it carbonic acid gas. The chemist
usually calls it carbon dioxide. You are aware that all substances which combine in this way with
oxygen form oxides. This is called dioxide because it contains two parts of oxygen to one of carbon.
Di means two. Our jar, then, is now filled with carbon dioxide. You know many of the properties of
this gas already. Let us learn a little more about it by means of an experiment. I have here a solution of
blue litmus, which is a vegetable coloring matter. We will pour some of the solution into the jar of
carbon dioxide, and note what takes place. The blue color instantly changes to a bright wine-red
when I shake the jar.
"Just one more experiment before we close the lesson. I will close the mouth of the jar with my
hand, and place it, mouth downwards, in this bowl of water. As soon as I take my hand away, some of
the water rushes up into the jar.
"Carbon dioxide is very soluble in water. Water will dissolve its own bulk of this gas. This is
why the water rushed up into the bottle."
 Lesson 33
Leather—Hides
The skins of many animals provide the material for making leather. Before we can properly
understand what leather is, and how it is made, we must know something of the structure of the skin
itself. We have already learned that the skin of all mammals consists essentially of two layers, one
above the other. The outer layer is called the scarf-skin, epidermis, or cuticle; the under layer is the
cutis, dermis, or true skin.
The cutis or true skin is composed of a mass of fibers, crossing and recrossing each other in all
directions, the spaces between the fibers being filled up with gelatine, nerves, and blood-vessels. We
usually speak of it as fibrous tissue. It is this fibrous tissue of the true skin which provides the
material for leather.
If a skin be taken from an animal and thrown aside in a damp place, it will soon begin to smell
badly and decay, for the gelatine in it has a strong tendency to putrefy when wet. But if the skin be at
once hung up in a dry place, it shrinks and becomes horny and stiff, as the gelatine in it dries and
hardens. The dried skin, however, would not only become soft again if it were soaked with water, but
would soon begin to putrefy and rot away. A piece of leather, made from the same skin, loses this
tendency to putrefy, increases in thickness, and, at the same time, becomes waterproof. It will be our
business now to learn how the manufacturer is able to effect these changes in the skin.
The skins of animals used for leather are known as hides or pelts. It must be carefully borne in
mind that only the fibrous matter of the true skin is of use to the manufacturer. The hair, the whole of
the epidermic layer, and all particles of fat and flesh, must be removed. The hides are first soaked for
about a fortnight in water, after which they are taken out and thrown into tanks of lime-water, where
they are allowed to remain for about ten days. The lime has the effect of loosening the hair and the
epidermis on one side, and the particles of fat and flesh on the other. When they have soaked
sufficiently they are taken out and scraped with knives on both sides to remove all these useless parts.

The next thing is to get rid of every particle of the lime, for that would be injurious. This is
usually done by soaking the hides for about a week in tanks containing fowls' dung and water. This
solution absorbs all the lime from the skins, and leaves them soft and supple.
They are now ready for the tanning process. The bark of many trees contains a peculiar
substance called tan or tannin. The best tan is obtained from the bark of the oak or hemlock, but other
kinds are sometimes used. A preparation is made by grinding the bark in a mill, and steeping the
powder in water.
The prepared hides are thrown into the tanpits—great tanks in the ground—which are filled with
the prepared barb-liquor—or ooze, as it is called—and there they are left to soak for four or five
months. The object is to make the tannin of the bark unite with the gelatine of the skins. This converts
the skins into actual leather. The longer they are allowed to remain in the tanpits the better, for it is
necessary that every particle of the gelatine shall be acted upon by the tannin, if the leather is to be of
good quality.
The hides, when sufficiently tanned, are taken out of the pits, washed and laid out to dry in open,
airy lofts, after which they are hammered, and rolled between heavy rollers to harden them.
The thin skins, which are required for upper leathers of boots, are dressed with oil and tallow,
and then rubbed and rolled with heavy rollers to give them a smooth surface. After this they are
treated with a dressing of lamp-black and tallow, and rubbed and smoothed and polished again. This
process is known as currying.

There is a great variety of quality even in the different parts of the same hide. The skin, as it is
taken from the animal, is styled the crop or full hide. After it is tanned and dressed, it is cut up into the
butt and the offal. The butt is the best portion of the leather; the offal consists of that part of the skin
which covered the shoulders, neck, belly, cheeks, and face of the animal. Thus in a single ox-hide we
have five distinct qualities of leather, varying in value from two shillings a pound to ninepence.
 Bull-hide, bullock-hide, and cow-hide are very thick, strong, and durable. They are mostly used
for the soles of boots and shoes, and for harness-making. Calf-skin is usually employed for the best
upper leathers for boots.
The hides of the animals while in the state of transition from the calf to the fully-grown ox are
known as kips. They make a very valuable leather, almost as fine as calf-skin, but stouter and more
durable.
The hide of the horse is remarkably thin, but when tanned and curried it makes a very valuable
leather, which is used chiefly by the harness-maker. Pig-skins are tanned into a leather for covering
saddles.
England's annual home products of hides and skins of all sorts are valued at about £7,000,000
sterling, but they import largely from all parts of the world, the total value of their imports being
about £10,000,000 sterling.
Of this amount the South American States contribute by far the largest share. India and the Straits
Settlements stand next, but England also import hides from the United States, the South African and
Australian colonies, and from several countries in Europe. Buenos Aires, the great South American
seaport, ships annually about 3,000,000 hides; Monte Video, another port almost as large, exports
about 1.5 millions, and Brazil furnishes about the same number.
The vast, grassy steppes of Russia are the home of immense herds of horned cattle. It is
estimated that upwards of 20,000,000 hides and skins of all sorts are obtained every year from these
regions. Some of them are exported, but the greater part of the supply is tanned and dressed by the
Russians themselves for their own use.
 Lesson 34
The Wheel and Axle
"We have seen before," said Mr. Wilson, at the commencement of the next lesson, "how one
machine gradually suggested another. I want to show you this morning how a very important machine
grew out of the fixed pulley, just as the pulley itself grew out of the lever.
"I have here two circular wooden discs, with grooved circumferences, similar to the one I used
before. The smaller of two is, as you see, only about half the size of that; the other is much larger. I
will fix both discs to the edge of the table, by means of a large nail, or a screw, in the usual way,
placing the smaller one in front. I want both discs to revolve together, so I will fix them to each other
with a peg.
"Now, on the right of the large disc or wheel, and the left of the small one, I will fix separate
cords. Each cord shall be passed under its own disc, and round the grooved circumference, so that the
end may hang from the outer side in each case. Notice that, when I pull the cord of either wheel
downwards, the other rises upwards. In other words, our new machine is a lever of the first order. We
want to see how it differs from the single wheel or disc. You will see this best if I draw with the
chalk a horizontal diameter across the small front disc. The two radii of this diameter form the two
equal arms of a lever, which act on the center as their fulcrum. The cord of this wheel hangs and acts
at the extremity of the left arm.

"I will now produce the chalk-line, towards the right, across the larger wheel. As the large
wheel moves with the small one, the chalk line drawn across from the center to the circumference
represents a radius of the large circle. It is really the right arm of a long lever, and at its extremity, on
the circumference of the wheel, the cord of that wheel hangs and acts.
"Now you shall pull the cord hanging from the larger wheel, and watch the chalk-line while you
do it. The pulling of the cord depresses the line on that side of the center, and, of course, raises the
shorter line on the other side, because both wheels move together. We have, in fact, a lever of the first
order, with arms of unequal length.
"Each wheel, as we have already seen, may be regarded as composed of a great number of
levers, all acting on the center, as their fulcrum; the combination of the two wheels—a large and a
small one—gives the advantage of unequal arms to each lever.
"We know, from the principle of levers of the first order, that a small weight acting at the
extremity of the long arm will balance a large weight at the end of the short arm, and that the slightest
additional weight on either will cause the other to move upwards. This is the whole secret of the
wheel and axle.
"The radius of our large wheel is twice that of the small one; a power of 1 lb. will therefore
support a weight of 2 lbs.; if it were ten times as long, the same power would support a weight of 10
lbs., and so on.
"Hence, the greater the difference between the size of the wheels, the greater the mechanical
advantage. By making one wheel very small and the other very large, we get very great advantage of
power.

"Now, before we leave our model, I want you to watch its working once more. We will first
attach our 1 lb. and 2 lbs. weights to their respective cords, and so get a balance; and then I will add
a very small weight to the cord on the larger wheel. The 2 lbs weight at once begins to move upwards
and the other down. But you notice that the former moves very slowly as compared with the latter, and
it moves, moreover, through a smaller space. Here we have again an illustration of the principle that
gain of power means loss of speed; loss of power, gain of speed. The simplest and most familiar
application of the wheel and axle is the windlass for raising the bucket in a well. The axle, on which
the rope attached to the bucket is wound, represents the small wheel of our model. The power is
applied either to the ends of the spokes of a large wheel, or to a long handle attached to the center of
the axle.
 "When the handle makes a revolution, it describes a large circle. The advantage, as regards gain
of power, depends upon the size of this circle as compared with the axle.
"The capstan for heaving the anchor on board ship, opening and closing lock-gates, etc., is
another application of the wheel and axle. In order to increase the power, the men work at the end of
long spokes, which are fixed into the axis. The longer the spokes, the greater the mechanical
advantage of the machine."
 Lesson 35
Waste and Repair
We know now that the blood is the vehicle by which oxygen is carried into all parts of the body,
for the purpose of burning up or oxidizing the worn-out waste tissues. Those waste matters could not
be removed from the system in their solid form. Oxygen, the powerful agent of combustion, burns
them up, and converts them into soluble substances, which are readily absorbed and carried away in
the stream of the blood.
But the blood is not merely the oxygen carrier. It has other duties beyond this. It brings material
for building up again those parts of the body which have been worn out by their work. There is not
only constant wear and waste going on, but constant repair as well. This explains why a person in
good health varies so little in size and weight year after year.
All the materials, whether for making bone, brain, muscle, or any part of the substance of the
body, are brought by the blood to the spot where they are wanted, and the blood gets them all from the
food which we eat.
When we have not taken food for some time we begin to be conscious of a peculiar emptiness in
the stomach; we feel weary and faint, and unfit for either work or play; we feel a great desire to eat—
we are hungry. We go to our meal, and come away with renewed vigour, ready to resume our ordinary
occupations.
When a person is in a healthy condition, this desire for food returns several times a day. He is
said to have a good appetite. Indeed, if our appetite falls off, we know that something is wrong; we
have to consult the doctor. If a person were kept without food, his body would shrink and lose weight,
and he would gradually become unable to do any work with either mind or body.
So then the body feeds on the blood, and the blood itself feeds on the food which we eat. In other
words, our food supplies new materials to the blood, and the blood carries them to rebuild just those
identical tissues that have been destroyed with their work.
The food has actually to be converted into blood. This is the whole work of digestion. Digestion
has to change the food we eat into blood fit to feed the body. The bread and butter, meat, pudding,
potatoes, are solid substances, and quite useless for the purpose in that form. It is the work of
digestion to change the nature of the food, so as to make it easily soluble. In this state, and in this state
only, can it ever be absorbed into the blood.
The full force of this would be readily seen by putting some powdered starch and sugar into
separate glasses of water. If the two were stirred with a spoon, the sugar in the one would entirely
disappear, but the starch in the other would still be seen, and would, if left to itself, sink to the
bottom. In the one case the water holds the sugar in solution; it has become, for the time, inseparable
from the water. We could not pour out the water and leave the sugar behind. Not so the starch. This
settles at the bottom, and we may easily pour off the water and leave the starch.
But in addition to this, if we tried our osmosis experiment with the two substances, there would
be a marked difference. The dissolved sugar would readily pass through the membrane; it would be
impossible for the water to pass and leave the sugar behind, and this is equally true of every
dissolved substance. On the other hand, no amount of force or coaxing would send any of the starch
through the membrane. This must be clearly understood now, as it will have an important bearing on
the lessons which are to follow. The whole of our food must be dissolved, for it can only pass into the
blood by osmosis. This dissolving of the food is the work of digestion.
 Lesson 36
Leather—Skins
We have already dealt with the preparation of hides— that is, the skins of large animals, such as
the ox, horse buffalo, antelope, etc. —for the heavier, thicker kinds of leather. But besides these there
are many varieties of thin light leather, made from the skins of the goat, kid, sheep, and lamb; such as
are used for kid gloves, bags, purses, pocket-books, linings for hats, and a host of other purposes.
These leathers are prepared, not by tanning, but by another process known as tawing.
For this purpose the skins, after being prepared in the usual way, are first soaked in a solution of
alum and salt, and then in a liquor made of wheaten flour mixed with the yolk of eggs. The alum and
salt by combining with the gelatine of the pelts does the work of the bark ooze in tanning, while the
yolk of eggs and the flour give this kind of leather its peculiar softness and elasticity.
The consumption of eggs for this purpose is so great that it is no uncommon thing for some of the
great leather factories in Bermondsey to have at one time as many as 100,000 eggs in store, preserved
in lime and salt.
The skin of the sheep is sometimes tawed whole; sometimes it is split into two distinct skins
before the tawing process is begun. The unsplit or whole skin in its finished state is called roan. It
resembles morocco, but is less expensive, and is largely used by bookbinders.
Sheep-skin leather is also extensively used in the manufacture of trunks and bags, pocket-books,
purses, linings for hats, boots and shoes, cases for jewellery, musical instruments, men's braces, etc.
When it is split into two skins the grain or outer one is known as a shiver, the under one is called
a flesher, The fleshers of sheep-skins are largely used for the manufacture of military gloves, and for
wash-leather.
Wash-leather was formerly made from the skin of the chamois-goat; hence it is frequently styled
chamois, shamoy, or shammy leather.
Large numbers of sheep-skins are converted into mats and rugs. For this purpose they are tawed
with the wool on them. The process of preparation is very simple. All that is necessary is to carefully
scrape away every little particle of flesh and fat from the skin, stretch it out flat upon a board with a
few tacks, the woolly side downwards, and then rub the surface of the skin itself with a mixture of
powdered alum and salt repeatedly for a few days.
The alum and salt are readily absorbed into the gelatine of the skin, and convert it into the new
substance— leather. The best of the skins are afterwards treated to a dressing of the flour and yolk-of-
egg liquor, to make them supple and pliant.
Parchment is made from the skin of the sheep, goat, and young calf. Rams' skins supply
parchment of excellent quality, but that made from lamb-skins is best. Vellum, a very white, fine, and
smooth kind of parchment, used mostly for important documents, is prepared from the skin of the
young calf.
The heavier kinds of men's gloves, known as dog-skin gloves, are made from the skin of the
South African sheep.
Lamb-skins are always tawed unsplit, as they are too thin to bear splitting. From them is made a
soft white leather, known as beaver, which is used largely for making the cheaper sorts of white kid
gloves.
Goat-skins are chiefly used in the manufacture of morocco leather. The skins for this purpose are
dressed with shumach. The Moors of Northern Africa long held the complete monopoly in this
manufacture, but the tanners of Europe have now not merely learned the art, but actually surpassed the
Moors themselves in the quality of their production.
Morocco leather is used only for ornamental purposes, and is always dyed either red or bright
yellow. An inferior morocco is made from sheep-skins. Kid-skins are always used for the best kid
gloves.
It is estimated that England's own slaughter-yards yield annually 17 million sheep and lamb
skins, and imports from other countries supply 10 millions more. The largest shipments of these skins
come from South African colonies.
The number of goats reared in the United Kingdom is not large, but they annually import about 7
million goat-and kid-skins, most of which come from India and South Africa.
Woodstock has long been noted for its gloves, but the trade has declined of late years, except for
military and hunting gloves. The glove manufacture is mainly located now in Yeovil, Worcester, and
London. Limerick carries on a brisk manufacture and trade in soft, delicate gloves— so thin and fine
that it is a common thing to pack a pair of them in a walnut shell for sale.
Immense quantities of foreign gloves are imported, mostly from France—the French gloves
being specially sought after, both for the quality of the kid and the excellence of the workmanship.
Indeed, the glove manufacture in France is a very lucrative branch of industry. It is estimated to yield
an annual output of more than 30 million pairs, worth from £3,000,000 to £4,000,000 sterling, and to
give employment to about 90,000 persons.
Russia leather is well known by its pleasant smell, which, however, moths and other insects do
not like. It is used for binding valuable books, and for making many varieties of articles for use and
ornament. It is tanned with willow bark, and afterwards treated with a kind of tar made from birch
bark, but the actual process of manufacture is kept a secret.
 Lesson 37
Sulphur
"I have this morning another common, well-known substance to talk to you about," said Mr.
Wilson, as he showed the class a piece of roll-brimstone. "A very simple examination of this
substance, which is known indiscriminately as sulphur—or brimstone—will tell you that it is a solid
body, of a lemon-yellow color, and that it has a faint odor but no taste.
"If we tap it with a hammer we shall learn that it is very brittle; and if we put it into water we
shall prove that it is insoluble in water. We can, however, dissolve it in oil of turpentine. It takes fire
when a light is applied to it, showing that it is highly inflammable, and it burns with a peculiar pale-
blue flame and a suffocating odor.
"Now let us have an experiment. I will put some crushed sulphur in a test-tube and heat it gently
over the Bunsen burner. The solid substance changes at first into a clear, yellow, limpid liquid, but as
the heat is continued it becomes darker in color, and of the consistency of treacle; and finally it boils
and passes off as vapor. While it is boiling we will introduce a small coil of fine copper wire into the
mouth of the tube. The metal at once takes fire in the sulphur-vapor, and burns with brilliant effect.
Now think of the combustion of bodies in oxygen and also in chlorine. You remember, of course, that
we call the compounds formed by the burning—in the one case oxides, in the other chlorides.
"Our last experiment showed us the copper taking fire and burning in a similar way in the
sulphur-vapor. The product formed by that burning is known as sulphide of copper. Most of the metals
combine with sulphur to form sulphides. Indeed, most of the metallic ores are sulphides. Copper and
iron pyrites, two common forms of the ores of these metals, are really sulphides. Sulphur is also met
with in combination with mercury, forming a sulphide commonly called cinnabar. This is the chief
source whence we obtain that useful metal. In one of our early lessons the method of separating the
mercury from the ore was described.
"Most of the sulphur of commerce is obtained in the free state—that is, uncombined with other
substances— from volcanic districts such as Sicily, Southern Italy, Iceland, and Mexico.
"Sulphur is frequently met with in the waters of mineral springs. The waters of Harrogate owe
their medicinal value to the sulphur which they contain.
"The roll-sulphur which I showed you first is obtained by pouring the melted sulphur into
wooden molds and allowing it to cool.
"The flowers of sulphur are formed by boiling ordinary sulphur, and causing the vapor from the
boiling liquid to pass into a cold chamber, where it condenses, and settles upon walls and floor as a
fine powder.
"Sulphur is largely employed in the manufacture of gunpowder and matches, and for many other
purposes.
"I have now another experiment to show you. I will put a piece of sulphur in the deflagrating
spoon, set it on fire by applying a red-hot wire to it, and lower it into this jar of oxygen which I have
in readiness. The sulphur immediately bursts into a brilliant purple-blue flame, giving out intense
heat, and the product of the burning is a suffocating gas. This gas is an oxide of sulphur. We call it
sulphur dioxide.
 "I will next pour some blue litmus infusion into the jar containing the sulphur dioxide, close the
jar with my hand, and shake it up.
"Now, without removing my hand, I will invert the vessel in this bowl of water, and if the hand
be then taken away, the water will rush up into the jar with great violence, and the blue litmus
coloring-matter will change to a bright red.
"Sulphur dioxide is so soluble that water will dissolve nearly fifty times its volume of this gas.
This is why the water rushed up into the bottle.
"If you dip your finger into the solution and put it to your tongue you will find that this dissolved
oxide has a sour taste."
 Lesson 38
Plants Useful for Food (Ⅵ)

Sugar
Sugar is one of the most important products of the Vegetable kingdom. The juices of many plants
contain sugar, each variety having its own special characteristics. The various sugars are arranged in
three groups—grape-sugar, cane-sugar and manna, or leaf-sugar.
The first of these—grape-sugar—takes its name from the white, crystalline, sugary substance
found in the inside of raisins and currants, which, as you already know, are dried grapes. This white
substance is really sugar; we call it grape-sugar. It is the source of the sweetness in the raisins and the
currants. But fruits in general, as well as the grape in particular, owe their sweetness to this same
kind of sugar—grape-sugar. The apple, pear, plum, gooseberry, cherry, etc., have at first a sharp, sour
taste, and gradually pass from sour to sweet as they ripen. This is owing to the gradual formation of
grape-sugar in them. Even when fully ripe most of them are a little sour, and it is the mixture of sour
and sweet which gives fruit its pleasant flavor. This grape-sugar of the fruits yields wine when
fermented. We have frequently had occasion to notice the conversion of starch into sugar via the
saliva, in the work of digestion. The kind of sugar thus formed is this same grape-sugar which is
found in fruits.
By mixing some starch in water with a little sulphuric acid, and boiling the mixture in a shallow
dish over the spirit-lamp, we may easily effect this conversion for ourselves. When the liquid has
cooled it will be found to have acquired a sweet taste. The acid will have converted the starch into
sugar—grape-sugar. The saliva, you may remember, is an acid fluid too, and has a similar action on
the starchy matters of the food. We could, by adding a little lime to the boiled solution, separate the
acid, and then if the liquor were boiled down, we should get actual sugar.
Potato, wheat, barley, rice, maize, or sago starch can be readily made to yield sugar in this way.
The sugar obtained from starch is known as maltose, and is made into beer by the process of brewing.
Manna-sugar is a peculiar and distinct product, differing from both grape-and cane-sugar in
many respects. It is obtained from the sap of a variety of plants. In some it exudes from the surface of
the leaves, and is hence known as leaf-sugar; in others it is obtained by making incisions in the stem.
It is produced in very small quantities, and only in a few parts of the world. It is chiefly used for
medicinal purposes.
A species of ash, which grows in Sicily and Calabria, yields a valuable kind of manna-sugar. It
is obtained by making cross-cut incisions in the stem. The sap, exposed to the air, hardens as it flows,
and concretes into a solid gum-like mass round the slits in the bark. When fresh gathered it is very
nutritious, and enters largely into the food of the people. It soon acquires, however, a slight purgative
property, and this, while it unfits it for food, renders it valuable for medicinal purpose. As a medicine
England imports annually no less than 11,000 lbs. of this manna-sugar, most of it coming from Sicily.
 We have already dealt at some considerable length with the varieties of cane-sugar, their
preparation and properties. It will be quite unnecessary to do more now than call attention once more
to the fact that these sugars are not all of them the product of the sugar-cane. The class known as cane-
sugars include, in addition to that, beetroot-sugar, maple-sugar, maize-sugar, and palm-sugar.
Sugar has become almost a necessity of life. It is estimated that people consume, on the average,
no less than 70 lbs. of sugar per head of the population in the United Kingdom each year. The U.K. is
by far the largest consumers of sugar in the world. Upwards of one million tons of sugar are annually
imported into England. The total yearly production from the sugar-cane all over the globe is said to
be upwards of 5000 millions of pounds, and by far the greater part of this comes from British
dominions, chiefly the East and West Indies and the Mauritius.
Think of the millions of men in various parts of the world who are employed in cultivating the
plants, extracting and preparing the sugar, and conveying it to this and other countries, to say nothing
of the traders and others through whose hands it must pass before it reaches the actual consumer.
Thousands of ships are employed in carrying this one article of commerce.
The preparation and sale of beetroot-sugar, too, is largely increasing every year. England
imports, as a matter of fact, more beetroot than actual cane-sugar, but it is not all consumed at home.
Much of the sugar imported is sent out of the country again as a manufactured article.
The topmost shoots of the date-palm yield a juice which, when boiled down, gives a brownish,
raw sugar, commonly known as East India date-sugar, palm-sugar or jaggery. The juice is obtained by
piercing the tender shoots, so as to cause the juice to flow. It is produced by the populations of India
and other tropical regions where the palms grow, and mostly for their own exclusive consumption.
 Lesson 39
The Inclined Plane
"This morning on my way to school," said Mr. Wilson, "I saw some brewer's draymen unloading
great heavy barrels from their wagon, by sliding them down a sort of slanting ladder to the ground.
When they had got them to the ground they lowered them into the cellar in the same way. Besides this
I saw them raise other barrels, first from the cellar to the ground, and then from the ground to the
wagon, by rolling them up the same ladder. This slanting ladder is a machine—very simple, and at the
same time very useful. By means of it the men were able to move those heavy bodies with ease from
their awkward positions. We call it the inclined plane. Let us see what we can learn about it.

"Here is a smooth, polished board. We will lay it on the table, so that it rests in a horizontal
position, and then place on it one or two objects, also having a smooth, polished surface. The objects,
whatever they are, rest on this horizontal plane, showing no tendency to move.

"Now we will rest one end of the board on this block of wood. It is a plane still, but, instead of
being horizontal, it slopes; it is, in fact, an inclined plane. I want you to notice how the same smooth
objects act when we place them on the board now. They, one and all, roll quickly down the slope. We
will next change the smooth polished board for one made of rough deal, incline it at the same angle,
and place the same smooth objects on it as before. They do not move as quickly now; some of them,
indeed, do not move at all, but remain at rest on the slope.
"The rough inequalities on the surface cause a rubbing or friction between the objects and the
board, and it is this friction that retards the movement of the objects, and actually brings some of them
to a standstill. The same things rolled rapidly down the smooth board, because there was less
friction. Indeed, in considering the inclined plane, we must for the present think of the surface as
being perfectly smooth, so as to cause no friction, although practically this is never quite true.
"Let us glance for a moment in another direction. The slope of a hill is, of course, an inclined
plane. Now, suppose I set one of you boys the task of taking to the top of a hill a load too heavy for
you to lift, how would you act? I think, if it were a round body that would roll, you would roll it up
the hill; if it were something with a flat surface, such as a box, you would probably attach a rope to it,
and drag it up. What kind of hill would present the easier task—one with a steep slope, or one with a
gentle slope? You would find it much easier to roll or drag the load up the gentle slope than up the
steep one.
"I want to show you now the reason for this, and to make clear to you what mechanical
advantage the inclined plane gives. Let us return to our smooth, polished plane.
"I will adjust the plane so as to make its height exactly half the length of its slope, and that will
give us an incline of 30°. To the top of the slope a small pulley shall be fixed, and I will attach one
end of the cord which passes over the pulley to some smooth object standing on the plane. I have
chosen for our object this little toy truck, which runs on smooth, polished wheels; and I have loaded
the truck to make it weigh exactly 2 lbs. Now, Fred, you shall hold the cord, while I attach to the other
end of it a 1 lb. weight. When that is done we will leave the truck to take care of itself, and we see
that the 1 lb. weight is sufficient to balance it on the slope. A half-ounce weight more hung on the cord
will make the truck travel up the inclined plane.
"We may alter the inclination of the plane now, and we shall find that as we vary the slope so the
power will vary. The little truck will not be supported by the same power on different slopes. Thus, if
we make the height one-third the length of the slope, the truck will be supported by one-third its
weight; if the height be one-fourth the length, it will require only one-fourth its weight to support it.
"In other words, the longer we make the slope as compared with the height, the greater is the
mechanical advantage. It is important to remember that we have made use of the pulley only to enable
us to measure the force required. Whether the body be pushed upwards from behind, or pulled up by
means of a cord, the force necessary to accomplish it is the same in each case.
"We will next glance at a few practical applications of the inclined plane.
"We have already had something to say about the drayman's ladder. Next time you see one, notice
how smooth its working surfaces are. You are now prepared, of course, to tell what kind of ladder is
most advantageous to him—a long or a short one—and to give your reasons for what you say.
"We often see an inclined plane used for transferring a great block of stone into a cart. The rough
surface of the stone, in addition to its weight, would, however, prevent it from moving even on the
inclined plane. Hence, in order to overcome some of the friction, three or four rollers are placed
under the block, and, as these roll forward, they carry the block with them, the hindmost one being
transferred to the front from time to time, as it is disengaged.
"In the construction of bridges a great deal of thought and care must be given to the length of the
approaches on either side. These approaches slope upwards towards the middle of the bridge, and the
slope must be made sufficiently long in comparison with the height, so as not to cause too great a
strain on the horses which will have to draw heavy loads over the bridge.
"The horse travels with its burden along a level road with comparative ease, because the weight
rests upon the wheels of the cart, and it has only to overcome the friction between the wheels and the
rough surface of the road. As soon, however, as it begins to mount a hill, the weight is thrown behind
the wheels, and there is now, in addition to the friction, another force to contend against, namely, the
force of gravity, due to the weight of the load, and it is plain that this must increase with the increase
of the slope.
"The road up a steep hill is, for the same reason, usually made to wind round and round the hill,
in order to give a longer slope, and so render the ascent easy."
 Lesson 40
Bones
The bones of almost all animals are serviceable in some way to man. Indeed, the position which
bone holds among the economic products of animals is by no means an unimportant one. Bone enters
largely into many varieties of manufacture, and so great is the demand for it, that in addition to the
home supply from slaughtered animals, England imports immense cargoes every year from many parts
of the world. England's total annual imports of bones from all sources amount to upwards of 100,000
tons, and are valued at about £700,000 sterling. The bones of commerce are chiefly those of the
horse, ox, buffalo, elephant, giraffe, and hippopotamus.
We use bone in its natural state for knife-handles, spoons, brushes for teeth and nails, combs,
fans, buttons, paper-knives, etc. The bones usually employed for these purposes are the shank and
buttock bones of oxen. It is estimated that in Sheffield alone no less than two million shank-bones are
worked up in this way every year. The manufacture of bone buttons is a very important and extensive
industry, and gives employment to immense numbers of work-people. Birmingham and Sheffield turn
out bone buttons in ton-loads every year.
The fresh or green bones, as they come to the hands of the manufacturer, contain a large amount
of fat and before they can be of any use to him this must all be removed. The fat is extracted by
boiling the bones. They are usually boiled for about twenty-four hours, and the fat which rises to the
surface is skimmed off when cool. The hollow shank-bones of the ox are carefully boiled by
themselves, and the skimmings from them yield a valuable fat, which forms the material for the
manufacture of butterine, and usually fetches about forty shillings per hundredweight. The fat from
other bones, which is coarser and of inferior quality, is sold to the soap-makers, and is worth about
thirty shillings per hundredweight.
Bones are also largely used in the manufacture of artificial manures. Our investigations into the
nature and composition of bone have shown us that in addition to animal or organic matter—ossein—
it contains two-thirds of its weight of mineral matter. It is this mineral matter that makes the bone
dense, hard, and rigid—the very material for the framework of the body of the animal, providing
support, protection, and means of locomotion.
We have seen, too, how a bone behaves when it is placed in a clear, red fire. The whole of the
organic matter in it burns away, leaving a white brittle substance, which the fire will not consume.
This is the earthy or mineral matter of the bone. It is known as bone-ash, or bone-earth, and consists
chiefly of phosphate of lime. Bone-ash is obtained in this way by burning bones, and is prized by the
farmer as a very useful manure for his land.
You remember, no doubt, that by steeping a bone in dilute muriatic acid, we are able to dissolve
all this mineral matter out of it, leaving only the tough, flexible, gristly ossein behind. When the
steeping is over, all the mineral matter of the bone is in a state of solution in the liquid itself. This
will help you to understand the preparation of another very valuable manure, known as super-
phosphate of lime. The bones for this purpose, instead of being burned, are merely crushed into small
pieces and put into dilute sulphuric acid. The acid, of course, dissolves all the mineral matter out of
the bone, the ultimate product being the valuable super-phosphate of lime.
 Animal charcoal, a substance largely used in the arts, is made by burning bones in closed, air-
tight retorts for twelve hours, the gases being allowed to pass off as they are formed by the burning,
so that nothing is left behind but the carbon of the bone. This is afterwards crushed into small grains,
and is known as animal charcoal.
Animal charcoal is employed in the sugar refineries. The syrup of the raw sugar is filtered
through this charcoal, which extracts all its brown color and leaves it white. The powdery dust
formed by crushing the charcoal is known as bone-black, and is used in the manufacture of blacking.
Now let us think once more of those great factories where bones are made into knife-handles,
spoons, buttons, and other articles of use. Of course the bones must be sawn, cut, carved, and shaved
in; various ways in the preparation of such articles; and the workman makes cuttings, chips, scraps,
shavings, and sawdust, just as he would with other materials.
None of this, however, is wasted. All is collected up for further use.
These scraps of bone are soaked in dilute muriatic acid, which dissolves out all the mineral
matter and leaves behind only the animal matter of the bone—the tough, flexible ossein. This is first
washed and cleansed in lime-water, and afterwards carefully boiled. Ossein when boiled yields a
new substance—gelatine or jelly. This jelly becomes a valuable article of food, very rich in tissue-
forming properties. It is first flavored with orange, lemon, vanilla, or some such flavoring, and then
poured while warm into bottles, and left to cool. These are the jellies we see in bottles in the grocers'
shops.
 Lesson 41
Digestion
The sole purpose of taking food is to make blood, and the great thing to remember is that the
food can only be converted into blood after it has been dissolved or digested. This work of digestion
commences in the mouth.
The mouth is provided with a double row of teeth, which act the part of a mill in crushing and
breaking up the food. While this crushing work is going on, a fluid called saliva oozes out from the
lining membrane of the mouth, and moistens the food. This saliva is a thin, watery fluid, which has the
power of changing starch into sugar.
Starch, you remember, is one of the most important constituents of all plants. Our vegetable
foods—such as bread, beans, peas, rice, potatoes—owe their value in a great measure to the starch
which they contain. Nevertheless, it is a strange thing that the starch itself is absolutely useless as
food until it has been acted upon by the saliva in the mouth.
Our lesson on the repairing work of the blood taught us that all food, which is to be of any
service, must be dissolved, as only dissolved substances can pass by osmosis through a membrane,
and so reach the blood. The starchy parts of our food, therefore, being insoluble, could not in that
form be of any value. The saliva acts upon the insoluble starch, and changes it into sugar, which is
soluble. It is the sugar itself, in a dissolved state, which is taken into the blood, and all starch reaches
the blood in this way. So then the starchy portions of our food are being digested as we chew them,
and hence we may see the necessity for due care and deliberation at our meals. Never eat in a hurry,
but allow ample time for the flow of sufficient saliva to properly moisten the food so that it may be
well masticated before it is swallowed. Food swallowed in great lumps can be of no use except to
give pain. When the work of mastication is completed the food is swallowed, and passes down into
the gullet. The lower extremity of the gullet expands into a large bag or pouch, shaped something like
a bagpipe. This is the stomach. It lies across the upper front part of the abdomen, immediately below
the diaphragm. The diaphragm itself is pierced with a hole to allow the gullet to pass through and join
the stomach. This bag or pouch is very strong and muscular, and is constantly contracting and
expanding in such a way as to cause whatever is in it to be rolled and churned about from side to
side.
The inside of the bag is crowded with multitudes of tiny tubes, which are constantly pouring out
into the bag itself a peculiar fluid—the gastric juice. From three to four quarts of this fluid are poured
into the stomach of an adult in the course of the twenty-four hours.
 It is plain that the object of this large quantity of gastric juice, and also of the constant churning
process, is to continue the work which was begun in the mouth. The gastric juice, like the saliva, acts
as a solvent for the food, or, at all events, for some of it. It will not dissolve starch-food, and it will
not dissolve fat. It acts upon lean meat, and upon those parts of the bread, pudding, peas, beans, and
such things which the saliva will not dissolve. In other words, gastric juice is the solvent for all
protein matters in the food.
The mass of food in the stomach then contains the starchy matters that have been acted upon by
saliva, and the protein matters which the gastric juice has dissolved. Both these are ready to pass into
the blood.
The inner lining of the stomach is a close network of blood-vessels, which branch out into the
finest of capillary tubes, and in these tubes the blood is always coursing along, while just outside
their thin walls is the great cavity of the stomach filled with food, some of which is digested and in a
state of solution.
You know that when two liquids are separated by a thin membrane, they pass readily through it
by osmosis. Thus it happens that osmosis does the rest of the work in the stomach. Those portions of
the food which are dissolved pass into the blood by osmosis through the delicate walls of the
capillaries.
The lower end of the stomach leads out through a somewhat narrow pipe into the intestines or
bowels. These form a long tube, which, if stretched out, would measure between five and six times
the length of the whole person. They are divided into two distinct portions, the small and the large
intestines.
That part of the bowel which joins the stomach is known as the small intestine. The tube is about
five-sixths of the entire length, and is folded and doubled many times upon itself. The large intestines
begin where the small intestines end, in the groin near the right hip. The tube then passes up the right
side, crossing the abdomen just below the stomach, and then turns downwards again, finally opening
externally at the lower extremity of the trunk.
Near the junction of the small intestine with the stomach lies a great organ, the liver, which has
important work to do in connection with digestion. It prepares a greenish-yellow, slimy-looking fluid
—the bile—and pours it into this part of the small intestines. This bile is an alkaline fluid, and has the
power of dissolving fatty, oily matters.
The same opening which admits the bile into the intestine also admits another little tube from an
organ called the pancreas. This tube brings a fluid, known as the pancreatic juice, which resembles in
its properties both the saliva and the gastric juice.

Now let us see what all this has to do with the work of digestion. The whole of the food is not
dissolved in the stomach. All that remains in an undigested state passes out into the small intestine.
There it receives bile from the liver, to dissolve the fats, and pancreatic juice from the pancreas, to
complete the work of digesting or dissolving. The walls of the intestines are strong and muscular, and
as they contract, they force the stream of food onward, the fluids dissolving it as it goes.
 Lesson 42
Phosphorus
In commencing the next lesson Mr. Wilson showed the class the bottle labelled phosphorus. "We
have frequently," he said, "had occasion to employ the contents of this bottle during our experiments.
We will now try and learn something about the substance itself."
He took one of the sticks of phosphorus from the bottle, and allowed the class to see that it is a
pale yellow, almost transparent, solid substance. He cut it with a knife as easily as he could have cut
a piece of wax.
As he cut it, and while they were examining it, he called attention to the fumes of greenish-white
vapor surrounding it like a little cloud. As soon as it was taken out of the water small wreaths of this
smoky vapor began to rise from it. This, he explained, was due to the rapid oxidizing of the substance,
which was taking place even at the ordinary temperature of the room. A very slight increase of
warmth—even the warmth of the hand—would be sufficient to cause it to burst into actual flame. He
showed them that for this reason he wore a glove, as it is not safe to hold phosphorus in the naked
hand. Even while he was speaking he let fall a little piece on a warm plate lying on the table, and in
an instant it took fire.
"This great inflammability of phosphorus," he said, "is its chief characteristic, and shows us
clearly enough why it is necessary to always keep the substance in water.
"Now watch this little experiment. I will put a small piece of dry phosphorus on the table
together with a little powdered potassium chlorate, and strike them with a hammer." It burst into flame
and exploded with a loud report.
"It is this last property of phosphorus," he continued, as soon as the boys had recovered from the
shock, "which makes it of such great use in the manufacture of lucifer matches.
"In one kind of lucifer the paste containing the phosphorus is put on the end of the match itself.
These matches will ignite when rubbed on any rough surface, and are, of course, dangerous. Many
accidents have happened through carelessness in using them.
In the 'safety' match the phosphorus paste is put on the box and not on the match. There is no
danger of the match igniting until it is rubbed on this phosphorus rubber.
"Phosphorus is never met with in the free or uncombined state. It is chiefly found in combination
with other elements, forming phosphates. Phosphate of lime is one of the most important of these; it is
one of the materials of certain volcanic rocks. These are the rocks which by crumbling down produce
our fertile soils. The plants which grow in such soils absorb the phosphorus compounds from them to
help in building up their own material. These plants become the food of man and animals.
"All the bony structures in the animal consist largely of phosphate of lime, which has been
obtained in this way. The bones owe their hardness and rigidity to the phosphate of lime which they
contain.
"You, no doubt, remember that we have several times, in our lessons in physiology, dissolved
this phosphate of lime out from bone by soaking it in dilute hydrochloric acid. In those experiments
our business was rather with the animal matter of the bone than with the mineral matter dissolved out
from it. I have now, however, a bone in soak, and we will examine the liquid itself. It is quite clear;
we can see nothing in it. Now, watch while I pour some ammonia into it, and you will see that the
phosphate of lime will be precipitated to the bottom from the clear solution.
"The chemist always prepares phosphorus for his purpose from bones. The bones are burned to
a white ash in a clear, open fire. This burning, as you know gets rid of all the animal matter of the
bone; the white ash left behind is the earthy or mineral matter and is known as bone-earth or bone-
ash. It is this bone-ash which yields the phosphorus.
"Just one little experiment before we close.
"I will cut off a small piece of phosphorus, dry it carefully in blotting-paper, place it on this
metal plate, light it, and cover it with the bell-jar.
"Violent combustion at once begins, and the oxygen in the jar is rapidly consumed. In order that
the whole of the phosphorus may be consumed, I will raise the jar a little from time to time to admit
more air. All this time the jar is filled with dense white fumes, and at last the combustion ceases—the
piece of phosphorus is all consumed.
"Now let us watch those fumes. We shall see them gradually condense and fall on the plate, as a
soft, white, snow-like powder. This powder is an oxide of phosphorus.
"Now that the fumes have all gone, we will remove the bell-jar, and pour a little water into the
plate. The moment the water is put into the plate a violent hissing takes place.
"This oxide of phosphorus has a powerful affinity for water. The energy with which the water
sucked up the white powder caused that hissing.
"I will now add a little of the blue litmus solution, and you will see that the effect is the same as
we have seen before in the oxides of carbon and sulphur. The blue litmus turns red, and if we dip the
finger into it, we shall find again that this dissolved oxide has a sour taste."
 Lesson 43
Ivory
Ivory is a substance resembling bone and, like it, of considerable importance in the arts and
manufactures. The closeness of its grain and the high polish which it is capable of taking are sufficient
to distinguish ivory from bone. A still more remarkable difference, however, is seen by a careful
comparison of the two substances. If, for example, some polished articles of ivory and bone be
examined side by side, the former will show a number of beautiful, regular, curved markings on the
surface, but the bone has no such marks. These curves may be readily seen, as they are of a slightly
different shade of color from the rest of the substance of the ivory. They cross each other, something
like the curves on the back of an engine-turned watch-case, forming small lozenge-shaped spaces
between them. No specimens of bone—indeed, no other animal substance of any kind—has these
markings. Hence this is a sure test for distinguishing ivory from bone.
The readiness with which ivory can be cut, carved, and turned; the beauty of its hard, white,
polished surface; and its great durability in all climates—render it specially suitable for many
purposes in the arts, both useful and ornamental. It is chiefly employed for making knife-handles,
backs for brushes, billiard-balls, chessmen, paper-knives, fans, combs, piano forte and organ keys,
and a large variety of fancy and ornamental articles. Cut into thin plates, it is also used in
bookbinding as covers for books, and for writing-tablets.
The ivory of commerce is furnished by the teeth and tusks of various animals. Those of the
elephant, hippopotamus, and walrus yield the best quality and the largest supply. Among these
elephant ivory holds the foremost place.
The elephant, being a herbivorous animal, has largely-developed molar teeth in both jaws for
crushing its food; but the most striking feature of its dentition is presented by the two enormous tusks
which project from the upper jaw. Incisors or cutting teeth like those of the horse would be useless to
an animal that feeds as the elephant does; hence they are always wanting.
The molar teeth of the elephant are of little commercial value, because they contain, in addition
to the hard solid dentine, a large proportion of more loosely-constructed bony matter, known as
cement, which has a tendency to crack, and so renders the ivory less durable. They are sometimes
used for making knife-handles and small thin plates for writing-tablets.

There is a remarkable difference in the structure of the molars of the African and Asiatic
elephants. In both of them the hard enamel of the tooth appears in ridges on the crown. In the tooth of
the African elephant these ridges assume a kind of lozenge-shape; in the Asiatic animal they stretch
transversely across the crown of the tooth from edge to edge.

The tusks of the elephant are the largest teeth to be met with in the animal kingdom. They grow to
their enormous size because of the absence of any teeth in the lower jaw to oppose them.
In most of the mammalia (including man himself) the first set of teeth are shed in due course, and
their place is taken by a new set. The renewal occurs but once during the life of the animal, and the
teeth do not grow after attaining a certain size. We may therefore say that these teeth are of limited
growth. Contrast such teeth with the incisors of the rodents, which grow as long as the animals live,
and the enormous tusks of the elephant will cease to be a matter of wonder. The tusks of the elephant,
hippopotamus, wild-boar, and walrus, and the long spiral, horn-like tusk of the narwhal, are alike in
this respect; they are endowed with perpetual growth, for they continue to grow as long as life lasts.

The African is much larger than the Asiatic elephant; the female as well as the male is furnished
with tusks, and the tusks attain immense proportions. A single tusk will sometimes weigh from 150 to
175 lbs. and measure 10 feet in length.
The tusks of the Indian elephant are smaller; they usually weigh from 60 to 80 lbs. each. The
elephants of Ceylon and Siam furnish very beautiful and highly-prized ivory, but the tusk does not
weigh more than 25 or 30 lbs.
The elephant uses his tusks in uprooting trees, to get at the young herbage growing on the upper
branches. They are also very formidable weapons of attack and defence.
 Sir Samel Baker, the great African explorer, gives a vivid description of the havoc which he
once saw wrought in a mimosa forest by a great herd of wild elephants. These trees grow from 16 to
20 feet in height, and the animals uproot them easily, using their tusks as crowbars and levers. He
found the place a complete wreck, the trees not only torn up, but stripped of their leaves and tender
green shoots, and even their bark; while the vast herd could be seen in the distance leisurely making
off after their meal.
For hundreds of years vast quantities of fossil-ivory of the now extinct mammoth have been dug
out of the frozen soil in Siberia and Alaska. It is estimated that about 20,000 lbs. of it finds its way
into the Russian markets every year. As many as ten fossil tusks have been dug out in one spot, many
of them weighing from 200 to 300 lbs. each.

In spite of the removal of such enormous quantities of fossil-ivory each year, the store does not
seem to materially diminish, for in many places the tusks are found lying about in heaps.
The tusks of the hippopotamus yield a very highly-esteemed ivory, which is much harder and
whiter than elephant ivory. It keeps its color, too, better than some kinds, which are apt to turn yellow.
This ivory was very much in demand till late years by dentists for the manufacture of artificial teeth,
and fetched as much as 30s. a lb. It is not used for this purpose now; it has been replaced by other
substances.
 Lesson 44
The Wedge
"The thing that must strike us most as we are becoming acquainted for the first time with the
mechanical powers," said Mr. Wilson, "is the easy, natural way in which one machine has in every
case suggested the next.
"The last machine we studied was the inclined plane. There is just one point to remember now
about that contrivance. It is employed to raise heavy bodies by actually pushing or dragging them up
its slope, the plane itself remaining at rest.
"I have here a piece of hard wood, cut in the form of an inclined plane. I want you to take it in
your hand, Fred, insert its thin edge under this large box on the table, and push it forward. What have
you done? You have raised the box on the inclined plane, but the work has been done this time, not by
pushing or pulling the box up the slope, but by forcing the inclined plane under the box. It is the
inclined plane itself that moves, and not the body which we wish to raise.
"We have here clearly a new machine. Let us examine it.
"Here are two such inclined planes exactly the same size. I will place them together base to
base. The two, joined in this way, form a wedge. I have also an actual wedge all in one piece. We
have only to draw a chalk line on one of its triangular sides, from the apex, perpendicular to the base,
to show that it might be easily separated by the saw into two inclined planes exactly similar.

"The wedge is, in fact, simply a pair of inclined planes, or, as we might say, a double inclined
plane. Our next business is to learn how to make use of the wedge as a machine for accomplishing
certain work.
"Let us turn our attention to this large cupboard, and suppose that it is necessary to raise the
cupboard a few inches from the floor. It is too heavy to lift; how shall I do it?
"Some of you will probably suggest the pulley, others the wheel and axle. Now, either of these
might do very well if we wanted to lift it some distance, but no machine will accomplish what we
want now so well as this simple little wedge.
"You shall take the wedge in your hand, Fred, insert its thin edge under the cupboard, and push it,
as you did the little inclined plane under the box on the table. What is the matter?"
"It will not move, sir," said Fred. "I cannot force it under the cupboard."
 "No, Fred, you are quite right. It will not move with all your pushing. Now take this hammer, and
strike the wedge a few smart blows with it. Does the wedge move now?"
"Yes, sir; the blows of the hammer have driven the wedge between the bottom of the cupboard
and the floor, and as the wedge moved under, it lifted the cupboard. The heavy body has been raised
by the moving of the wedge."
"Quite true, Fred, and if we compare the small exertion of striking the blows with the great
weight of the body you have raised, we shall see that this little machine gives great mechanical
advantage.
"There is a point in connection with the wedge worthy of notice. As the power is always applied
to a wedge by a blow with a hammer, and not by pulling or pushing, it is not easy to calculate exactly
the mechanical advantage with this machine as we have done with others.
"I want you to notice, too, that the cupboard still remains raised up, just where the wedge carried
it. Why does not the weight of the body, pressing downwards, force the wedge out? Perhaps I had
better tell you. It would do so if the wedge and the bottom of the cupboard itself were perfectly
smooth; in other words, if there were no friction.

"It is the friction between the two that grips, or holds the wedge in its place, every time the blow
of the hammer has sent it a little farther in. If it were not for this friction, the wedge would rebound
and fly out after the blow had been struck.
"One of the commonest uses of the wedge is for splitting great blocks of wood. Axe-heads,
knives, chisels, nails, planes—indeed, most cutting implements—are applications of the same
principle, for they are all wedges, thin at one edge and thicker at the other."
 Lesson 45
Beverages—Infused Drinks
Water is the natural drink of man and animals; but man in every part of the world concocts for
himself artificial drinks of various kinds. These are nearly all of vegetable origin; they differ in the
mode of preparation. Among the commonest artificial drinks are tea, coffee, cocoa, beer, wine, and
ardent spirits. We prepare beverages from the first three of these by steeping them in boiling water.
We make infusions of them, drawing out their flavors and properties into the water itself. These,
therefore, we may call infused beverages, and they are always taken hot. The cup of tea is an infusion
of the leaves of the tea-plant; the cup of coffee is an infusion of the coffee-bean or berry; and the cup
of cocoa or chocolate is an infusion of the cocoa-nib or seed. In either case leaves, berries, and seeds
have to be roasted and specially prepared before they are fit for use.
Beer, wine, and spirits are also prepared as infusions, but these infusions after being made are
fermented. Hence they may be called fermented beverages. They are usually taken cold.
To the English people, tea is by far the most important of these beverages; but the consumption of
tea is not limited to the people of England. The Russians and the Dutch are large consumers of tea,
and so are the people of the United States. Indeed, tea forms the daily drink of more people than all
other beverages put together. Probably not less than 500,000,000 of the human race depend upon tea,
in some form, as their daily beverage. Under the head of tea we include infusions made from the
leaves of many varieties of plants in different parts of the world. The tea with which we are familiar
is the leaf of the tea-tree, originally a native of the hilly parts of Bengal and China. It is commonly
known as China tea.
In South America a kind of tea, known as mate, or Paraguay tea, made from the leaves of a
species of holly, is the universal drink of all classes of the population.
In North America another kind of tea, known as Labrador tea, is made from the dried leaves of a
plant that grows wild in those regions. It is the daily beverage of the native population.
The Arab tribes of Northern Africa make a very pleasant drink, possessing many of the qualities
of China tea, from the dried leaves of a plant which is grown very extensively in those parts. It is
known as Abyssinian tea.
Various other infusions, such as Mexican tea, Tasmanian tea, etc., are made from the dried leaves
of plants, all of them resembling in some respects the tea with which we are familiar.
All the tea used in this and other European countries came originally from China. The tea-plant
of China has, however, of late years, been introduced for cultivation into India and Ceylon, and now
the greater part of our supply comes from these countries. The most striking feature in the tea-market
of today is the daily-growing favor in which Indian teas are held, and the gradual falling off of the
supply from China and Japan.
Since 1885 Ceylon has given up the cultivation of coffee, and turned its attention to tea; and the
Ceylon-grown tea is now making great headway in public estimation. In 1892 the imports of Indian
and Ceylon teas were greater than those of any other years by 22,468,000 lbs.; while, at the same
time, there was a falling off of the Chinese and Japanese product of 17,840,000 lbs.
During the year 1893 the total amount of tea imported into England from all quarters was
207,055,679 lbs.
In the island of Sumatra the coffee-tree is grown exclusively for its leaves, which are gathered,
dried, roasted, and otherwise prepared for the purpose of making tea—coffee-tea—the beverage
universally drunk by the native Sumatrans.
The beverage known by the general name of coffee is prepared from the seeds of various plants.
Each variety of seed, however, requires the same treatment. They must be roasted and ground before
they are fit to be infused in water.
Coffee, in some form or other, is the beverage of more than 100,000,000 of the human race.
Most of the coffee of commerce comes from the Arabian coffee-tree, a tree indigenous to
Abyssinia, where it grows like a wild weed. From Abyssinia the tree was first transplanted into
Arabia and Persia, and it has, in later times, been successfully introduced for cultivation into several
countries in both the Old and New World. Most coffee now comes from Central America, Jamaica,
and Brazil. Till 1885 Ceylon supplied nearly all the coffee that came to this country. But in that year
the Ceylon coffee plantations were stricken with the ravages of a disease which killed off nearly all
the trees, and since then the cultivation of coffee has ceased in that island. The tea-plant has been
introduced in its place, and the coffee-tree has found a new home in the Western Hemisphere.
The total imports of coffee into England amounted during the year 1893 to nearly 30,000,000
lbs.
The cocoa-tree is, as we have already learned, a native of America. The Spaniards, when they
first settled in Mexico, about the year 1500, found the tree growing there, and a beverage made from
its seeds in common use among the natives. It is still grown almost exclusively in America and the
adjoining islands. In the island of Demerara there are whole forests of these trees.
The consumption of cocoa in the United Kingdom has nearly tripled itself during the last ten
years. In 1893 they imported upwards of 31,000,000 lbs. Part of this is for home consumption; the
rest, after undergoing various preparations, is sent out of the country again as a manufactured article.
 Lesson 46
The Screw
"In our lesson on the inclined plane we showed how the principle of the machine is utilized in
making a road over a hill. The road is led round and round the hill, rising gradually all the way. Such
a road is really an inclined plane and, as it winds round the hill in the form of a spiral, we may call it
a spiral inclined plane.

"An ordinary corkscrew will give a good idea of what is meant by this name—spiral inclined
plane. Or you may illustrate it for yourselves. Cut a piece of thick white paper into the shape of the
section of a long inclined plane, with a slight ascent. Ink the sloping edge, and then wrap it round and
round a pencil, or a small round ruler. The ink-marked edge of the inclined plane passing round and
round the central axis will represent a spiral inclined plane. To give it a simpler name, we commonly
call it a screw. The screw is another important mechanical power, derived, as you see, directly from
the inclined plane.
"Examine for yourselves a few screws, such as the carpenter uses in his work. Trace the spiral
inclined plane in each of them. We call it the worm or thread of the screw, and the distance between
the threads we call the pitch. Sometimes the threads are very close together, and we say the screw has
a fine pitch; sometimes they are wide apart, and then we say the screw has a coarse pitch. The central
cylindrical part is called the axis, and the round upper portion the head, of the screw. We know that in
the inclined plane the ratio which the power bears to the weight or resistance depends upon the ratio
between the height of the plane and its length. If we want a small power to overcome a great
resistance, we must make the length of the slope as great as possible in comparison with the height.
 "Applying this knowledge to the screw as a machine, we can easily calculate the ratio between
the power and the resistance, if we first measure the pitch, and then find what is the length of one turn
of the screw, i.e. what is the length of the thread once round the screw.
"Suppose, for instance, the pitch of a screw to be 1/16 of an inch, and the length of the thread
once round it to be 2 inches. Then, as the length of the inclined plane is 32 times the height, any given
power applied to the screw will overcome a resistance 32 times as great.
"If you insert a corkscrew into a cork, or a common screw into a piece of wood, you will see
that they penetrate the substance because thread after thread of the spiral inclined plane moves
downwards. The screw, like the wedge, is a movable machine—a movable inclined plane.
"But the screw, besides its simple uses in the direction we have mentioned, becomes also a most
useful and powerful machine for pressing substances together. When used for this purpose, it must be
provided with a nut. This nut is a hollow cylinder, on the inner surface of which is cut a hollow spiral
groove of exactly the size to receive the spiral thread of the screw. The nut itself being fixed, holds
the screw fast.
"Of course, when a common screw enters a piece of wood, or a corkscrew penetrates a cork, the
instrument cuts its own nut. or groove in the substance through which it passes. This is why the
threads of these screws are provided with a sharp cutting edge. All other screws have blunt edges.
We have already made it clear that the mechanical advantage of the screw depends upon the ratio that
exists between the pitch and the length of the slope. Now follow me a little farther. How do we force
the screw into the wood ? With the help of a screwdriver. What enables us to push the corkscrew into
the cork? The handle at the top.
"Here is a picture of a screw-press at work. The workman forces the screw down through its nut
by turning the long handle at the top.
"Remember that, in every case, the screwdriver, the corkscrew handle, and the handle of the
screw-press are all levers. In addition to the mechanical advantage of the screw itself, these levers
give the power an immense assistance.
 "This may be easily calculated by a reference to the screw-press. Imagine a screw-press with a
pitch of 1/4 inch, and worked by a lever, which at each revolution sweeps a circle of 15 feet. Now 15
feet=180 inches=720 quarter inches. That is to say, the length of the slope is 720 times as great as its
height. Hence the man, by exerting muscular force of 20 lbs. on the end of the lever, would produce a
pressure of 20×720=14,400 lbs., or upwards of 6 tons."
 Lesson 47
Horns
If we were to set about making a list of the horned animals we should find that nearly all of them
belong to the order of "ruminants." Probably the first thing to strike us would be the great difference
between the horns of the ox and the corresponding appendages of the stag. Both are horns, but they
differ in structure as well as in their external appearance.

The bullock's horn is hollow, curved, broad at the base, and tapering to a point; it is very hard,
tough, and elastic, and has a smooth, shiny appearance. It is really a hard, strong, protecting covering
for a bony core, which grows out from the frontal bone of the skull. The core itself is part of the
actual skull bone, and is enveloped with a very tender, sensitive skin containing a close network of
nerves and blood-vessels.
The horny material of which this covering sheath is made is the same kind of substance as that
which forms the claws of mammals, the talons and beaks of birds, and our own fingernails.
Oxen, sheep, goats, and antelopes have these hollow, horny horns. Some of the antelopes have
straight horns, but in all the other members of the group the horns are more or less curved like those
of the ox, and some are twisted. These hollow horns make their appearance early in the life of the
animal, and continue to grow as long as it lives. They vary in size in different animals; in some cases
they measure as much as 6 feet from tip to tip.
 Certain antelopes of America shed their horns periodically, but none of the other animals do so,
and hence, with this exception, we may describe them as permanent horns.

The rhinoceros has the same kind of horny horn, but instead of being hollow it is solid, and there
is no inner core.
 Passing next to the horns of the deer, we find at once that they are altogether different from these
hollow horny horns. They consist of a number of spreading branches, and are usually called antlers in
preference to horns.
If the antlers of the common stag and those of the fallow deer and reindeer be compared, it will
be seen that in the former the branches are rounded like the branches of a tree, while in the latter they
are flattened out.

These antlers are hard, solid bone, and not horny matter. They are parts of the frontal bone of the
skull grown out, but without any external covering sheath of horny material. Antlers of this kind are
common to all the deer family, but, with the exception of the reindeer, only the males have antlers. In
every case the antlers are shed in the spring of each year, and new ones take their place. Hence these
are sometimes called deciduous horns. During the first year there are no actual horns, but only a pair
of short rough knobs, covered with a hairy skin. The horns make their appearance in the second year,
and are then single, straight, and pointed. These fall in due course next spring, and the third year
another pair, having two antlers or branches, take their place. The fourth year's growth have three
antlers; the fifth have four; the sixth, five; the seventh, six. In the fully-grown deer the antlers are very
large, thick, and wide-spreading, but the period of growth never exceeds ten or eleven weeks.

The true horny matter of the permanent horns is a very different substance from the bone of the
antlers of the deer. A piece of cow's horn readily softens in boiling water, and becomes so plastic that
it may be easily cut and moulded into various forms, and even welded together. The substance of the
antlers is actual bone, resembling in almost every particular the ordinary bone in the body.
Each of these has its uses. The horny horns, and especially those of the ox family, are used for
making combs, drinking-vessels, shoe-lifts, knife-handles, buttons, umbrella-tops, etc.
 Buttons are usually made from the solid tips of the horns. They are first softened in boiling
water, and then pressed into the required shape. Rams' horns are sometimes made into snuff-boxes in
Scotland.
The antlers of the deer family are mainly employed in making handles for carving-knives and
forks, pocketknives, and many varieties of ornamental articles.
England's annual imports of horns of all kinds average about 5000 tons, and are valued at about
£160,000 sterling. Most of England's supplies come from India, South Africa, the East Indies, the
United States, South America, and Australia.
British India and the Straits Settlements alone send to England's on an average 2500 tons of
horns, mostly those of the ox and buffalo, and this is estimated to represent the slaughter of no less
than two million head of these cattle annually.
Nearly one-fifth of England's total imports of ox and buffalo horns are used in the manufacture of
combs; the annual value of horn combs manufactured in the country is said to reach £400,000 sterling.
The cutlery works of Sheffield use up annually for knife-handles, etc., about 400 tons of foreign stag-
horns, besides a probable 100 tons from England's own deer forests and those of the Continent.
 Lesson 48
Absorption
Our lesson on digestion made clear to us the fact that all food, if it is to be of any service to us,
must enter the stream of the blood, and it can only do so by osmosis through the walls of the blood-
vessels themselves. We learned further that only dissolved substances are capable of passing through
a membrane in this way, hence the whole purpose of digestion. Digestion is simply the work of so
dissolving the food as to render it osmotic.
Starch is insoluble, and therefore has no osmotic force. The starchy matters of the food are
converted into sugar by the action of the saliva; sugar is soluble and, of course, readily osmotic, and,
as the food-stream passes along the alimentary canal, this dissolved sugar is greedily sucked up by
direct absorption into the network of capillary vessels, which closely line its walls.
It is exactly the same with the proteid matters of the food. The lean parts of meat, together with
what is left of the bread and pudding, peas and beans, after the starch has been removed, form a
substance resembling albumen or white of egg. If some "white of egg" were put into a bladder and
immersed in a vessel of water, it would be seen that no exchange takes place. The substance cannot
pass through a membrane in that state. It is the work of the gastric juice to dissolve all these proteid
matters, and, when dissolved, they are readily taken in, by direct absorption, through the walls of the
blood-vessels.
It still remains to account for the fatty matters of the food. They leave the stomach in an
undissolved state, for neither the saliva nor the gastric juice has any effect upon them. They can be
dissolved only by an alkaline fluid; this the liver supplies in the shape of bile. It is the bile that
dissolves the fatty, oily portions of the food, and so renders them osmotic.
But the food-stream, as it passes out from the stomach into the intestines, contains not only these
undissolved fats for the bile to act upon; some of the starches and proteids remain undissolved. This
explains why, side by side with the bile duct, another little channel opens into the intestine, bringing
from the pancreas a fourth dissolving fluid, known as the pancreatic juice. This fluid combines in
itself the properties of both saliva and gastric juice, and completes the work upon all starches and
proteids which have escaped the action of those juices in the stomach. As these substances are
dissolved, and thus rendered osmotic, they are at once sucked up into the blood, as before, by direct
absorption, all along the intestinal canal.
But the intestines themselves have a wonderful part to play in the absorption of the dissolved
food. The inner surface of the small intestines is not smooth, like the outside of the tube, but is
covered with a multitude of tiny thread-like projections, set close side by aide, like the pile of velvet.
It is estimated that there are no less than four million of those little hanging threads in the walls of the
small intestines. They are called villi. They might be compared to a multitude of tiny tongues hanging
down into the tube.
 They are being constantly bathed by the stream of dissolved food as it passes along the intestinal
canal. These little tongues suck up from the stream the dissolved fats which it contains.

Each little villus, small as it is, is really a very complicated structure. It has, running through its
center, a tiny tube, which forms at its extremity an exceedingly fine network of still smaller tubes.
This tube is not for the purpose of carrying blood. It is called a lacteal. The name lacteal comes from
the Latin word lac, meaning milk. It signifies milky-looking. The name is given to these vessels
because of their white, milky appearance an hour or so after a meal. This white, milky appearance is
actually due to the minute particles of fat, which they have absorbed from the intestines after the bile
has dissolved and broken them up.
The work of these tiny tubes, the lacteals, is to absorb the digested fatty parts of the food. All the
fat which enters the blood is carried to it through the lacteals. They gradually unite into larger vessels
in the walls of the intestines, and these at last form a great trunk or pouch called the thoracic duct.
The thoracic duct is a tube about 18 inches long, and about the size of an ordinary goose-quill. It
lies along the front of the spinal column, and extends upwards to the root of the neck. It forms a sort of
reservoir or receptacle for the dissolved fats, which are sucked up by the lacteals and poured into it.
At its upper extremity it opens into a great blood-vessel known as the left sub-clavian vein. Thus, the
fatty matters, taken up by the lacteals, at last reach the blood, and the work of digestion is completed.
 Lesson 49
Beverages—Fermented Drinks
The sweetening principle of all fruits is known as grape-sugar. If the juice is squeezed out of
some fruit, and then left to stand for a time in a warm temperature, there is a natural tendency in the
grape-sugar which it contains to undergo a remarkable change. During this change the surface of the
liquid becomes covered with a film, resembling yeast, and two new substances are formed—alcohol
and carbonic acid gas. We speak of the change as fermentation. The presence of the alcohol in the
juice can be easily detected by its peculiar, sharp, biting taste.
If the juice were allowed to stand for a sufficient length of time, it would continue to ferment,
and more and more of the grape-sugar would be converted into alcohol. The juice would become
actual wine. This is the whole secret of fermentation. As the juice ferments, its grape-sugar becomes
converted into alcohol.
It is no part of our business to follow up the process of wine-making. Properly speaking, the
name wine is generally used in a restricted sense for those drinks made from the fermented juice of
the grape, but wine is made from most fruits.
There are many varieties of wine, according to the kind of grape and the mode of preparation.
The wine countries of Europe are France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Italy, Hungary, Greece, and
Turkey; and in all these the cultivation of the vine and the manufacture of the grape into wine
constitute most important national industries.
From France we get Champagne, Medoc, Burgundy, and Bordeaux. Spain supplies us with
Sherry and Malaga; Portugal with Port. The wines of Germany are produced in the basin of the Rhine,
and are commonly known as Rhenish wines. Moselle is also a German wine. Madeira, a wine
resembling Sherry, comes from the island of that name, and the chief of the Hungarian wines is Tokay.
Some wines are bottled while the fermenting process is going on. They still contain the carbonic
acid gas, and it is this gas in the wine which causes it to foam when uncorked, and gives the wine its
brisk taste. Such wines are known as sparkling wines. Others are not bottled until the work of
fermenting is completed. In the preparation of these wines the carbonic acid gas is allowed to pass
off before they are put into the bottle, and they do not continue to work and foam. These are known as
still wines.
The total quantity of wines of all kinds imported into this country in the year 1893 was
14,538,048 gallons.
The juices of the apple and pear are fermented, and made into a kind of wine. That made from
the apple is called cider; that from the pear is perry.
Most of the palms yield a sweet juice, which if allowed to ferment will produce an alcoholic
liquor. Toddy is a kind of wine made from the juice of the topmost spathe or flower-shoot of the
coconut palm. It is made and consumed in large quantities in all countries where this palm grows.
A somewhat similar wine is made from the date-palm. It is known as date-wine, and is highly
esteemed by the people of the deserts where this tree grows.
You remember that the starches can be made to yield a kind of sugar, called maltose. This starch
sugar, like the grape-sugar of fruits, will ferment if dissolved in water, but only after some yeast has
been added to the solution.
This constitutes the difference between wines and beers. Wines are made from grape-sugar,
which ferments spontaneously; beers are made from sugar, which requires yeast to make it ferment. In
both cases the fermentation splits up the sugar into alcohol and carbonic acid gas.
Barley is the usual starch grain for brewing purposes, although maize is rapidly coming into use.
The grain is first converted into malt by the maltster. He soaks it in a tank of water for two days, and
then lays it out evenly on the floor of the malt-house in a warm temperature. After about a fortnight the
grains are seen to be sprouting. They are then in this state thrown into an oven or kiln. The heat stops
further growth, and the starch is converted into sugar. In this condition the grain is called malt. We
have nothing to do with the process of beer-making. It will be enough for us to know how the barley
grain is converted into malt.

Hops are grown largely in this country for the purpose of brewing. They give the beer its bitter
aromatic flavor, and also prevent it from turning sour. The hop gardens of England extend into fifteen
counties, and occupy no less than 71,789 acres. Kent is the chief county for hops. A hop garden in the
flowering season, when the plants are in their beauty, presents a picturesque sight, and is sometimes
called the English vineyard.
Spirituous liquors are made by the process of distillation. If a fermented liquid is boiled in a
closed vessel, the alcohol which it contains, as well as the water, will assume the vapor form and
pass away into the cooler to be condensed. But this will take place only when the boiling point is
reached. The boiling point of alcohol is 172°F, that of water 212°F.
In distilling alcoholic liquors, therefore, the aim is to keep the liquid in the boiler at or near the
boiling point of the alcohol itself, but below the boiling point of the water. The alcohol vaporizes and
passes away into the condenser, and the water is left behind.
In this way wine is distilled and made to yield brandy; fermented molasses is distilled and made
to yield rum; and the liquor of malt treated in a similar way gives whisky.
It must be carefully borne in mind that our purpose in dealing with these intoxicating drinks here
is merely to point out the materials from which they are made, and to give a general notion of their
preparation. We have nothing to do with them in themselves. Whatever good they may have done, it is
certain that they have done untold mischief, and that man is wisest who has nothing to do with them.
 Lesson 50
Water as a Machine
"We have lately been discussing certain contrivances which we call machines. Each of these
machines is employed by man for the purpose of turning to the best account the various natural forces.
You remember, of course, that we defined a machine to be any contrivance for transmitting a force
from one point to another, or for altering the direction or intensity of the force. Now, I want to
introduce to you another machine, and a very important one—I mean water.
"As we are going to think of water as a machine, it is clear that it must possess certain properties
peculiar to itself, which enable it, like other machines, to accomplish certain work. To be a machine,
as we now understand machines, it should be able to transmit a force from one point to another; it
should be able to alter the direction of the force; it should be able to increase the intensity or
magnitude of the force. Water can do all these things, and it does them because of two properties
which it possesses in common with all liquids.
"One of the important discoveries which our earlier lessons led us to make with regard to water
is that it is incompressible. You no doubt remember our experiment with the pop-gun and the squirt.
We filled each of these with water, and, after closing the hole firmly with the finger, tried to force the
piston down. With all our trying it refused to move, because water will not be compressed, or
squeezed into smaller space. I want you to keep this fact well before you now. If a vessel of any kind
is filled with water, no amount of pressure will force that water into a smaller space.
"Another important truth which we learned in those early lessons was that water presses equally
in all directions. I remember I showed you this by means of a hollow india-rubber ball, which I first
pierced all over with small holes, and then filled with water. When I squeezed the ball, jets of water
were forced out on all sides.
"Suppose we repeat the experiment with this wooden pop -gun. I have already drilled some
small holes all round the end of it, and I will now fill it with water. I have only to press the end firmly
against the palm of one hand, and force the piston down with the other, and a jet of water will rush out
through every hole. The pressure applied to the piston rod in one direction has been transmitted by the
water in every direction. It is because water is incompressible, and because it transmits pressure
equally in all directions, that we are able to use it as a machine.
"But to be an effective machine it must also alter the intensity or magnitude of the force. Let us
see whether it does this.
"Imagine, if you can, two tubes, one small, the other very large, with a connecting pipe between
them. If we poured water into either one of those tubes, you know that it would flow into the other,
and the level in both would be the same, because water always finds its own level. Imagine each tube
provided with a close-fitting piston, resting on the top of the water; let the under surface of the small
piston be exactly 1 square inch, and that of the other 100 square inches.
"Now, if liquids transmit pressure equally in all directions, it is clear that whatever pressure
was applied to the small piston would be transmitted by the water to every square inch of the surface
of the larger piston. That is to say, if a 1 lb. weight were placed on the small piston, we should expect
to find that every square inch of the surface of the large piston resting on the water would be pressed
upwards with a force of 1 lb.; the entire upward pressure on the piston being 100 lbs.

Now, as a matter of fact, if we had two such piston-fitted cylinders, a weight of 1 lb. on the
small piston could only be balanced by 100 lbs. placed on the large piston. This tells us that the water
on the under side of the piston is pressing upwards with a force of 100 lbs., and it derived that
pressure from the 1 lb. weight placed on the small piston. Hence we see that water is actually a
machine. It is able to transmit a force from one point to another; it is able to alter the direction of the
force; it is able to increase the intensity or magnitude of the force."
 Lesson 51
Tallow and Offal of Animals
The fat or tallow of animals, especially of those whose flesh is used as food, forms an important
article of commerce. It is obtained by boiling down the carcasses in huge boilers; the fat, of course,
floats on the top, and is drawn off into coolers. Tallow is used now mostly in the manufacture of soap.
Formerly large quantities were made into candles, but since the introduction of solid paraffin very
few tallow candles have been made.
England's home product of tallow amounts to about 120,000 tons annually, but they import, in
addition to this, from many parts of the world, the total value of imports being from 2.5 to 3 millions
sterling. Most of England's imported tallow comes now from South America, the United States,
Australia, and Russia. The last-named country formerly supplied by far the largest quantities, but of
late years the trade in Russian tallow has declined.
Till recent years Australia reared its sheep and cattle almost solely for the sake of the wool and
hides, there being little demand for the flesh. Whole carcasses were boiled, 300 or 400 at a time, in
huge vats or boilers, 11 or 12 feet high. The fat was drawn off for tallow; the flesh was used for
feeding pigs, or put on the land as manure. In New South Wales and Victoria the number of carcasses
of sheep alone boiled down for tallow annually averaged 1.5 millions. The rise of the Australian
trade in frozen carcasses as food for the home market has now caused a corresponding fall in the
supply of tallow from these colonies.
Under the head of offal are included all the waste or refuse parts of the carcass, as well as
certain parts which are used as food—e.g. the head, tongue, feet, heart, liver, kidneys, lungs, tripe,
gut, and bladder.
The tripe-dressers of London and other large towns carry on an extensive and flourishing trade
in the preparation and sale of offal as food. Some parts of it are highly esteemed as delicacies; others
form cheap and wholesome food for the poor.
Calves' heads form a nutritious dish which is regarded as a luxury. Ox-tongues are also largely
in demand as a delicacy. Immense quantities of salted tongues are imported from South America,
Russia, and Australia.
The feet of oxen, when boiled, yield gelatine—a very wholesome food. Calves'-foot jelly is
much esteemed as a delicacy for invalids. There is a large amount of fatty oil in the foot of the older
animal, which must be extracted before it is fit for food. The fat extracted is the useful oil known as
neat's-foot oil.
The accumulation of animal refuse in the slaughterhouses and meat markets of our large towns
was formerly a source of great danger to the community, and various means were adopted to destroy
it, or get rid of it in some way before it could work mischief. Now every part of it is applied to some
definite purpose, and provides a remunerative source of employment and profit.
The blood of the slaughterhouses, instead of being allowed to run away into a drain as useless,
is now put to various uses, either as food or in the industrial arts. The blood of pigs and sheep is used
for making black puddings, and in Sweden the lower classes of the population live on a very
wholesome bread made of the blood from the slaughterhouses mixed with wheaten flour.
 Blood is largely used in the arts in the form of blood-albumen. One kind of blood-albumen is
obtained from the clot after the blood is allowed to stand for some time; another is derived from the
serum or liquid part of the blood. The first of these is used by calico-printers to produce the color of
the particular kind of cotton cloth known as Turkey-red.
It is estimated that upwards of 6000 tons of blood are used annually for this purpose. That
derived from the blood-serum is employed by dyers as a mordant for fixing or biting in the colors in
woollen fabrics.
Dried blood is used to clarify wines and syrups, and it also forms a valuable manure for the
land.
The intestines of animals are prepared for various purposes, and are thus the source of large and
important branches of manufacture. The delicate membrane of the small intestine of the ox is the
material from which gold-beaters skin is made. One London maker alone is said to use up the gut of
no fewer than 10,000 oxen every week for this purpose. Other parts of the gut are made into strings
for musical instruments, lashes, and whip-cords, and skins for sausages.
Cow-hair is used for mixing with mortar for plastering purposes, but not so much as formerly,
because it can find (at least the best part of it) a better market. Large quantities of it are now made up
into cheap imitations of sealskin for ladies' jackets, etc. The best of the hair for this purpose realizes
from £10 to £11 per ton. The coarser, rougher hair is used for stuffing chairs and sofas, and in making
felt for roofing purposes. It is also made into ropes, as well as carpets and other textile fabrics.
Glue is made from all sorts of refuse animal matter, including the fleshings (i.e. the parings of the
hides from the slaughter-houses and tanneries), the refuse parts of the hoofs and ears of horses, oxen,
and sheep, and the cuttings and scrapings of the horns of animals. Almost any animal offal and
garbage, useless for other purposes, is available as a material for making glue. The dried sinews, the
inner bony core of the horns, even old worn-out leather (if it is first deprived of its tannin) —all are
made to yield glue.
Size is a weak solution of glue allowed to cool and clarify. Scraps of vellum or parchment, old
kid gloves, and rabbit skins are used as materials for making gelatine and size.
The process of glue manufacture is simple. The fleshings are soaked in lime-water to cleanse
them, after which they are washed, and then boiled. The impurities rise to the surface and are
skimmed off during the boiling, and the clear liquid is then run away into molds and left to dry and
harden.
The prices of glue in England vary, according to the quality, from £45 to £75 per ton. It is
estimated that the average quantity of glue used is upwards of 10,000 tons.
Gelatine is used for stiffening straw hats and for dressing silks and other fabrics. It is also used
as an article of food.
Size is chiefly used for mixing with whiting and color in whitewashing and coloring ceilings and
walls.
 Lesson 52
Acids
"I have here a bottle containing a liquid which has long been familiar to us by name, for we have
made frequent use of it in our lessons," said Mr. Wilson at the next meeting of the class. "We know it
as spirit of salt, or muriatic acid."
"I think we are now in a position to make it teach us something new," he continued, and he
poured some of the liquid into a test-tube, and added a little blue litmus solution.
"The color, you see," he went on, "instantly changes to red. Now, Fred, dip your finger into the
liquid, and put it to your tongue."
Fred did so, and found that it had a sharp, strong, sour taste. "We have met with these same
characteristics before," continued Mr. Wilson, "in the dissolved oxides which we examined. The
solutions of the oxides of sulphur and phosphorus had the same sharp, sour taste, and they both turned
the blue litmus into a bright red. The carbon dioxide was sour too, although only very slightly; but it
also changed the blue color of the litmus.
"There are many substances, besides those we have examined, which have the same
characteristics. The chemist has one name for them all. He calls them acids. In our everyday language
the word acid calls up in our mind some sharp, sour taste, such as that of vinegar or unripe fruit. It
comes from a Latin word acidus, which means sour. Many substances possess this peculiar sharp
taste, and when the name acid was first used by the chemist, it was limited to such bodies. They all
have the same effect, too, in turning the blue color of litmus into red.
"But it is now known that, although most acids are sour to the taste, there are some which are not
sour. To the chemist, therefore, this sourness is a mere accident in spite of the name. Acids are now
distinguished entirely by their action on vegetable coloring matter. Any substance which can change
the natural blue color of litmus into a red is said to be an acid, whether it be sour to the taste or not.
"We are now in a position to give the proper names to those substances which we have till now
called dissolved oxides. Carbon dioxide when dissolved in water is carbonic acid. Sulphur dioxide
similarly becomes sulphurous acid when it is dissolved in water. The oxide of phosphorus, which we
produced and examined, became phosphoric acid when it was dissolved in water.
"These acids and many more like them were produced by the combustion of some substance in
oxygen. There are other acids which are not formed in this way, and these are not oxides; they contain
no oxygen it all. The spirit of salt or muriatic acid which we examined just now is one of them. It is
also sometimes called hydrochloric acid, but this is not really a good name, for spirit of salt is really
a solution of hydrochloric acid, and not the acid itself.
"Hydrochloric acid, by its very name, of course, suggests that it is composed of two bodies—
hydrogen and chlorine—with which our lessons have made us familiar. We will prepare some now,
and see what we can learn about it.
"I have here some common salt, which has been fused in an iron ladle over a very fierce red fire,
then allowed to cool into a solid mass, and afterwards broken up into pieces with a hammer. We must
first weigh a certain quantity of this fused salt, and put it into a flask. Then we must weigh an equal
quantity of oil of vitriol, and pour over the salt.
 "I ought to tell you that oil of vitriol has another name—sulphuric acid, but this is not the same as
the sulphurous acid I mentioned a little while ago. It is one of the most powerful of acids, and like
those we have examined, it has a sharp taste and turns blue litmus red.
"You see by this time there is a sort of action going on between the salt and the acid. If I now
apply the flame of the Bunsen burner gently to the bottom of the flask, a gas will be rapidly given off.
This gas is the hydrochloric acid we want.
"Hydrochloric acid is heavier than air; we therefore collect it by displacement. All that is
necessary is to guide the delivery tube into the jars as they stand, with their mouths open, on the table.
The heavier gas will sink to the bottom of the jar and drive the air out at the top. As they fill we will
cover them with the glass discs, and set them aside till we require them. Now to learn something
about this new gas.
"We will take one of the jars, with the glass cover still closing the mouth, and invert it in this
bowl of water. Notice what happens when I slide the disc away under the water. The water rushes
rapidly up into the jar, dissolving the gas which it contains. There is a very strong affinity between
this gas—hydrochloric acid—and water. Water will greedily dissolve 480 times its own bulk of this
gas. You remember I told you that muriatic acid, or spirit of salt, is simply hydrochloric acid in
solution.
"I am now going to perform the same experiment again, but I will color the water with blue
litmus this time. When the jar is inverted, and the disc removed, the water rushes up as before, but as
it enters the jar it changes from blue to red. Now you can see why we call the gas an acid. You saw,
moreover, that I prepared the gas from common salt. Hence you will not be surprised now at the name
spirit of salt."
 Lesson 53
Plant-Fibers for Spun and Woven Goods
Materials for an immense variety of textile fabrics, as well as for rope and cordage of all kinds,
are provided by the fibers of the cotton, flax, hemp, and jute plants.
The woolly down from the pods of the cotton-plant yields such materials as calico, nankeen,
muslin, fustian, hosiery, and lace.
Fustian is the common name for a large number of heavy materials, used principally for working
men's clothing, such as corduroy, moleskin, fustian, velveteen, velveret, and beaverteen.
Hosiery includes, not only stockings, as the name denotes, but all those textile fabrics made by a
kind of knitting or chain-stitch, altogether different from the regularly crossed threads of the warp and
woof in woven goods.
Cotton supplies materials for clothing man in all parts of the world. Indeed, the cotton-plant may
justly take its place among the most valuable of Nature's products. It is by far the most abundant and
important of all materials used for textile fabrics.

The cotton-plant grows in most of the hot countries of both the Old and the New World. There
are three varieties of the plant—the tree, the shrub, and the herb.
 The cotton-tree grows to the height of 15 or 20 feet, and yields the finest and most valued cotton.
It grows on the shores of Florida and the adjoining islands, and is sometimes known as Sea Island
cotton. It is also called long-staple cotton, from the length of its fiber.
The cotton-tree grows also in India, China, and North Africa. The Hindus make from it a fine,
silky cloth for turbans.
The cotton-shrub is a woody, perennial plant, about the size of our currant-bush.
Most of the cotton grown in the United States of America is of the herbaceous variety. The plant
is an annual, and grows from seed sown in March or April. It attains the height of about 2 feet, bears
bright green leaves, and blooms in June.
The flower is very like hollyhock, and when it falls it leaves behind a pod about the size of a
walnut, containing seeds embedded in a loose, white, woolly down—the cotton of commerce. The
pods are picked in the autumn by women and children, who go through the plantation from plant to
plant, withbags or baskets slung round their necks. It is estimated that in England alone no less a sum
than £100,000,000 sterling is sunk in the manufacture of cotton goods. There are not less than half a
million looms at work in the cotton centers, and in a busy time 10,000,000 yards of cotton cloth can
be turned out in one day.

Some idea of the number of persons employed in the manufacture may be formed from the
estimate that between 30 and 40 millions sterling are paid annually in wages and the cost of working.
In 1886 England imported 671,026 tons of raw cotton, and the same year they exported cotton yarn
alone to the value of 11.5 millions sterling, and cotton goods to the value of 57 millions sterling,
besides what we retained for our own use.
 Before the cotton-down is fit for the manufacturer the seeds must be removed. These seeds are
about the size of grape-seeds, and contain much oil. This oil is expressed, and forms an important
article of commerce—cotton-oil. It is used for burning in lamps, for oiling machinery, for soap-
making, and as a substitute for olive-oil. The residue, after the oil is removed, forms a valuable oil-
cake for feeding cattle.
The textile material provided by the flax-plant comes from the bast-fibers of the inner bark of the
stem, and is manufactured into linen, duck, diaper, damask, sheeting, towelling, huckaback, drill,
check, drabet, and sail-cloth.

The rougher and commoner fiber is made into sacking, and a mixture of flax with cotton gives the
useful fabric—union. The plant yields another product besides the bast-fibers of the stem. Its seeds
form a valuable article of commerce. When pressed they yield linseed-oil and oil-cake for feeding
cattle.
The mode of cultivation depends entirely upon the special kind of product in view. Warm
climates produce the finest seeds; temperate climates the best fiber for the manufacturer.
The flax-plant is extensively grown in the north of Ireland, but England imports every year
upwards of 100,000 tons of foreign flax, more than half of which comes from Russia. The rest is
supplied by Belgium, Holland, and North Germany. Although Russia sends the largest supply,
Belgium gives the finest quality of fiber.
The chief flax-markets in the United Kingdom, and the chief centers of the flax and linen trade,
are Belfast for Ireland, Dundee for Scotland, and Leeds for England. Ireland is by far the most
important of the three countries as regards this trade.
In addition to what is retained for home consumption, England exports annually about 200
million yards of linen and other flax fabrics, besides immense quantities of yarn, and thread for lace
and sewing purposes. During the year 1893 the total value of linen manufactures amounted to
£4,165,902, and linen yarn alone to the value of £890,124 was produced.
The bast-fibers of the hemp-plant are used for making rope and cordage, canvas, sacking, sail-
cloth, floor-cloth, and other coarse, strong fabrics. Most of the hemp used in manufactures is imported
from Russia, India, the Philippine Islands, Holland, Germany, and the United States. Englands total
imports amount to about 1,000,000 cwts. The seeds yield oil and oil-cake.
Jute is another bast-fiber. It was practically unknown in England till the year 1840, but it has
very rapidly come into prominence as a material for textile fabrics. During the year 1893 they
exported jute-manufactured goods and yarn to the value of £2,848,283, in addition to what was kept
for home use. Annual imports of raw jute fibre from India alone amount to upwards of 300,000 tons.
Dundee is the head center of the jute manufacture in Great Britain.
 Lesson 54
Furs
Fur is Nature's covering for the animals which inhabit the colder regions of the world, and the
more rigorous the climate, the more beautiful the fur-skins which it produces. Man, even in his
primitive state, soon learned to set a high value on these skins as a clothing for himself, and in
process of time he discovered a means of so dressing them as to prevent them from rotting, or the hair
from falling off.
The inhabitants of very cold countries dress themselves today entirely in fur, or line their other
clothing with it. We regard fur, because of its costliness, as a luxury for winter ornament; only the
wealthy part of the community can afford to look upon it as a necessary article of clothing.
The fur-bearing animals include members of both the Carnivora and the Rodentia. The vast
majority of them are wild animals, which are hunted and trapped in the most solitary regions of the
earth, remote from the haunts of man. Their skins yield many varieties of fur, from the simple rabbit-
skins worth two or three pence, to valuable furs which have been known to realise as much as £100
each.
Among the most beautiful and costly of these furs are the skins of the fox, racoon, bear, badger,
wolverine, skunk, polecat, marten, stoat, mink, otter, and seal. Many varieties of foxes are killed
every year for the sake of their fur, and all of them are highly prized.

Silver-fox is a rich, soft, handsome skin of thick dark fur, with long silvery-white overhair. A
single skin will sometimes fetch as much as £20. Black-fox, another variety, is one of the most
valuable furs which the world produces. It is rarely met with now, and consequently is even more
expensive still; the price asked for a single skin frequently being no less than £40. The red-fox, grey-
fox, kitt-fox, cross-fox, and Arctic fox are among the other varieties. The last named animal changes
color in winter from a dark gray to pure white, and in this condition the skin is takes and prepared for
the market. Most of the polar animals are more or less liable to this change.
 The skin of the racoon furnishes a handsome grayish-red fur, much used in Germany and Russia
as an inside lining for travelling coats.
Bears are found in many parts of the world, although their numbers are slowly and surely
thinning before the steady march of settlement and civilization both in Europe and North America.
Their skins all afford thick handsome furs. The black, brown, and grizzly bears belong to the forest
and mountain regions, the last named being a powerful and ferocious beast peculiar to the Rocky
Mountains. The polar bear is a sea animal; it inhabits the floating masses of ice, in the frozen seas of
both the Eastern and Western Hemispheres.

The American badger has a very soft, fine fur, fully 3.5 inches long. It is of a dark purplish-
brown color, tipped with white, and mottled with black rings here and there. The fur of the European
badger is coarser; it is mostly used for artists' brushes.
 The wolverine, or glutton, is about the size of the badger. It has a soft, close, fur coat about an
inch thick, with stiff overhairs fully 4 inches in length. It is much in request for muffs and victorines.
The skunk, or American polecat, has a long, soft, rich black fur, which for ladies' apparel rivals
many of the higher priced furs. During its life-time this animal has the power of emitting a most
offensive fluid from a small bag near the root of the tail.

This is its mode of defense against its enemies, and a very good one it is, for no animal can
endure the nauseous stench. In preparing the skin for the market great care is necessary to avoid
breaking the bag, and to ensure the rest of the fur being fit for use, a narrowstrip is cut out along the
middle line of the back.
 The weasel family is a numerous one, its members being small animals very similar to the
polecat. Among the weasels the stoat or ermine is highly prized for its fur. In summer the fur is a
bright, reddish-brown, but it changes to a pure white as winter comes on. This fur is much in demand
for state purposes, for it has been adopted from very early times by royalty and nobility to adorn their
robes of state. It is this fact alone which has given to ermine a value considerably above its merits as
compared with many other kinds of fur.

The martens are closely allied to the weasels, and they too form a numerous and widely
distributed family. The most valuable of them as regards its fur is the Siberian sable. In the summer
the fur is reddish-brown with gray spots, but in the winter it changes to a full, dark brown. Its fineness
and the soft rich lustre of its surface render it one of the most costly and beautiful of the furs. It can
rarely be worn except by wealthy persons, because, in addition to its beauty, the difficulty of
procuring it adds to its value. The animal is only to be met with in the coldest and most out-of-the-
way, rugged places, and the trappers have to endure every hardship of hunger and cold, and at the
same time to be constantly on their guard against wild beasts. No less than £20, £30, and even £40
must often be given for a single skin.
 The mink is a North American animal whose fur is unrivalled for its beauty and durability. It is
of a chocolate brown color, very fine, short, and dense, with strong, stiff overhairs. It is rapidly rising
in estimation, and it is not so expensive as many skins are. A very fine specimen may often be bought
for £1.
The sea-otter was formerly to be met with on the Pacific shores of North America in thousands,
but the numbers have decreased considerably. The fur is jetty black and soft as velvet, the skin of the
male being immeasurably superior to that of the female. A single skin has been known to fetch as
much as £60, £80, and even £100, but the value has declined of late years. Still the animal is scarce,
and consequently the fur is only within reach of the wealthiest.

The seal is undoubtedly, from a commercial point of view, the most important among the
Carnivora. There are several varieties of the animal to be met with in almost every part of the world.
The flesh of one kind is used as food, another yields seal-oil from its blubber, and another is the fur-
seal. We have to concern ourselves now only with the last-named variety.

They live in millions on the rocky islands of the seas which they frequent. A seal breeding-
ground, or rookery, as it is called, is a sight worth seeing. About June the bull seals begin to arrive
thousands strong, and shortly after they are followed by the females. In many places, owing to the
indiscriminate slaughter that was allowed to go on, the animals have entirely disappeared, and now
the annual take is strictly limited by international law.
 All the skins we have mentioned, and many other varieties, are known as fancy furs, or dressed
furs. The skins or pelts are dressed and prepared by a sort of tawing process with the fur on them.
The alum and salt used in the tawing convert the skin itself into a kind of kid leather, thereby arresting
all tendency to putrefaction, and at the same time fixing the hairs.
Some of the commoner kinds of furs, such as those of the rabbit, hare, coypus, cat, and musk-rat,
are used for felting. For this purpose the fur is removed from the skin, and beaten and pressed till it
becomes matted or felted together. This is the material of which felt hats are made. As a branch of the
fur trade it forms a thriving industry, not only in England, but also in France, Belgium, and Germany.
 Lesson 55
The Hydrostatic Press
When we were discussing water as a machine, I illustrated the water pressure by means of two
tubes, a large and a small one. That will now help us considerably to a right understanding of the
contrivance known as the hydrostatic press. The name is a long one, but it will be easy to understand
if you remember that it is derived from two Greek words: hudor, meaning water, and stasis, meaning
standing. It represents the power of standing water. The machine is also known as the hydraulic press.
It consists essentially of a small force-pump, connected by means of a pipe with a large and strong
cylinder, fitted with a piston. The pump itself, like all other force-pumps, consists of a barrel, fitted
with a solid piston, and having in its floor a valve opening upwards. The piston-rod is moved up and
down by a lever handle.

As the piston rises and exhausts the air, water rushes up the suction-pipe from the reservoir into
the barrel. At the next descent of the piston, the water is pressed downwards, and effectually closes
the valve in the floor of the barrel. But the water will not be compressed, and hence it finds its way
out of the barrel by the only available channel—through the pipe, and so into the large cylinder.
The pipe itself, moreover, is provided with a valve, also opening outwards, and this prevents
any return of water into the barrel of the pump. The consequence is that each stroke of the pump-
handle forces more water into the large cylinder, and this water presses upwards upon the great cast-
iron piston in it.
This upward pressure of the water causes the piston, or ram, as it is called, to rise vertically.
The larger the surface of this piston, as compared with that of the little piston of the pump, the greater
will be the force of the upward pressure.
The top of the ram is broad and flat, and above it is placed an immensely strong iron plate,
supported on stout iron pillars.
The great use of the hydraulic press is to pack wool, cotton, hay, and other light but bulky
articles into smaller space. If any of these objects be placed on the top of the ram, the pressure of the
water will force them upwards against the iron plate, and so compress them into a much smaller bulk.
Bales of cotton and wool are, in this way, so closely compressed that they have to be bound with
strong iron bands, to prevent them from expanding and bursting during the voyage. The object of the
pressing is, of course, to enable the ship's hold to carry more cargo than it otherwise would.
The hydraulic press is also used in raising heavy bodies, such as immense masses of iron plates,
and other metallic work used in building. Thousands of tons are raised in this way with comparative
ease.
The most marvellous illustration of the powers of this machine is seen when immense ships are
raised by its means bodily out of the water, and held suspended there, while the workmen examine
and repair the under parts of their hulls.
Much use is also made of this machine in warehouses, hotels, workshops, and great public
offices, for providing lifts, by which people and goods are easily and quickly carried from the very
basement to the highest story of the building. Very few public buildings can now be found without
their hydraulic lifts.
If you turn next to the picture of the press, you will see that the ram is smaller than the cylinder in
which it works. When this machine was first invented it was of comparatively little use, because as
the force, applied at the pump-handle, sent more water in, it caused a corresponding overflow at the
top, between the ram and the sides of the cylinder, so that the force was lost.
An English engineer, Mr. Bramah, invented a clever contrivance for overcoming this difficulty. It
is known as the Bramah collar. It is made of leather, and is cut in the form of a hollow ring or circle.
The leather ring is first well soaked in oil to make it perfectly impervious to water, and then bent
down on both sides. You will best understand the arrangement by glancing at the picture of the collar
supposed to be cut in two. The cut edges resemble the letter U inverted. This leather ring, or collar, as
it is called, fits close to the sides of the cylinder and the ram, and the water as it rises fills the hollow
space.

As more water is sent by the pump into the cylinder, it presses with increasing force against the
inner sides of the collar. This pressure holds the leather firmly to the sides of both the cylinder and
the piston, and effectually closes the opening, so that there can be no overflow—none of the power is
lost.
Since the invention of the collar the machine has been styled indiscriminately the hydrostatic, the
hydraulic, and the Bramah press.
 Lesson 56
Fur and the Fur Trade
Siberia and British North America are the two great fur-yielding regions of the world. They
form immense hunting-grounds for almost every variety of fur animal. They give constant employment
to large numbers of adventurous men, who in their trapping and hunting are exposed to great risks and
dangers.
The Siberian trappers are usually bold, hardy peasants, whom the rigor of the climate drives to
adopt this life of hardship and danger. In North America, although many hundreds of white men are
employed as fur-hunters, the hunting and trapping are mostly in the hands of the Indians, who barter
the skins they obtain for blankets, biscuits, and a variety of articles for use and personal adornment.
Siberia provides by far the largest share of the fur trade of the world. Among its fur-bearing
animals are the sable, marten, beaver, fox, squirrel, ermine, wolf, bear, lynx, badger, sea-otter, and
seal. The richest and handsomest furs are obtained from the eastern part of Siberia.
It is said that China alone imports annually from Siberia nearly three million squirrel-skins,
irrespective of other furs. Turkey and Persia are also large importers of Siberian furs. The winter, of
course, is the season for fur-hunting, because then the coats of the animals are at their thickest and
best. All through the winter the hardy, intrepid hunters are scattered over the wildest and most solitary
parts of the country, collecting the furs. After the break up of the winter they bring their collections to
certain towns, where annual fairs are held for the sale of the furs and other commodities.
Among the most important of these towns are Nishni Novgorod on the Volga, Archangel on the
White Sea, and Yakoutsk on the Lena in Eastern Siberia; each of which acts as a central depot for the
fur trade in its own part of the empire. The Emperor of Russia derives part of his private income from
a tribute which is paid by certain Siberian tribes in the shape of the most costly of furs. Such furs are,
as a consequence, never allowed to appear in the markets.
The fur trade of North America was entirely in the hands of the Hudson Bay Company till the
year 1860, but since that time it has been taken up by several other traders.
Victoria, in Vancouver Island, is the chief depot for the Hudson Bay traders, who confine their
operations mostly to the North-West Provinces, Hudson Bay, and the Rocky Mountains. New York,
Boston, St. Louis, and Montreal are the chief centers of the fur trade for the eastern part of the
continent.
The principal fur-bearing animals of America are the sea-otter, common otter, and seal; black,
red, white, and silver foxes; the panther, wolf, beaver, racoon, bear, wolverine, badger, musk-rat,
lynx, ermine, and marten.
The furs sent out annually from British Columbia form the most important and valuable of its
exports.
The estimated total collection of furs from all the fur-producing countries of the world in a
single season does not fall far short of 30 million peltries, their total value being upwards of
£3,000,000 sterling. This, of course, takes no account of rabbit-skins and others that are used for
felting purposes, for such skins are not styled peltries. Of these France is estimated to produce no less
than 80 millions; England, 30 millions; Australia, 20 millions; Belgium, probably 15 millions; and
Austria and Germany another 20 millions.
The trade in peltries gives employment to three distinct classes of people. First there are, as we
have seen, the trappers, who collect the skins; then there are the wholesale dealers, to whom they sell
them at the great trading centers; lastly, there are the furriers, or fur-dressers, who prepare the skins
for the market.
The pelts, as they are taken by the trappers, are simply rubbed and salted to arrest putrefaction,
and in this state they are brought in to the depot. At the depot they are cleansed and cured, and then
packed in large casks for shipment to England and other countries, where they command high prices,
and yield large profits to the traders. London is a great center of the fur trade.
The value of the fur, of course, depends upon the condition of the skin. If the pelt is torn, through
the struggles of the animal in the trap, or riddled with shot, or badly stretched and dried, it loses
materially in value. On the other hand, it is a remarkable thing that so little is really wasted, even in a
so-called spoilt pelt. The smallest clippings, cuttings, and remnants are pieced together with
marvellous skill, so that it is often difficult to see that they have been joined.
Many skins owe their elegance and value to the length and fineness of the overhair, but we have
only to examine a lady's seal-skin jacket or muff side by side with some other fur article to see a
striking difference. The sealskin fur has a close velvet-like softness, without any of the long, loose
hairs such as we see in most other furs. The skin as it is taken from the seal and put into pickle for the
London furrier has stiff coarse overhair, which almost conceals the real fur beneath, but in the work
of preparation all the overhair is carefully removed.
For a long time each hair was plucked out singly by hand. At last, however, some one
discovered that the roots of these stiff coarse hairs were more deeply embedded in the skin than those
of the true fur, and a curious method has since been adopted for removing them. The pelt is first
stretched out flat with the flesh side uppermost, and part of the skin is pared or shaved off with a
sharp, flat knife. In cutting away this under surface of the skin those deeply-embedded hair-roots are
cut through, and it is an easy matter then to pull out the long overhairs. No one but an expert would be
able to recognize a seal-skin as it leaves the hands of the furrier, if he could have seen it in its greasy,
salted state when it was taken out of the pickle cask after landing in this country.
 Lesson 57
Bases, Alkalies, Salts
"You, no doubt, remember a very interesting experiment, in which a piece of the metal,
potassium, thrown into a basin of water, takes fire spontaneously, and burns with a beautiful purple
flame, as it floats about on the surface," said Mr. Wilson.
"Oh yes, sir," replied Will. "You showed us that experiment to prove the strong affinity of
potassium for oxygen. The metal burned by robbing the water of its oxygen."
"I remember too, sir," said Fred, "you explained that as the metal took away some of the oxygen
from the water, a certain amount of hydrogen was set free. This hydrogen, being a very inflammable
gas, burns with the potassium on the surface of the water. The potassium, oxygen, and hydrogen enter
into combination, and form a new substance, caustic potash, which dissolves in the water as it forms."
"Those are two excellent answers, my lads, and they prove that you follow each lesson carefully,
step by step.
"Yes, the potash is in the water after the experiment, although we cannot see it, because it is in a
state of solution. Let us have the experiment again now. This time, however, I want to prove to you
that the potash is really in the water. I have therefore colored the water in the basin with red-cabbage
infusion. As soon as the piece of metal touches the water it bursts into flame as before, but what else
do we see? The reddened water has changed at the same time into a bluish green.
"Potash is a substance which is used for many purposes, and it is usually sold in sticks. It has a
very greedy affinity for water, so that it must be kept bottled up close.
"I have a stick of the substance here. Of course, if I put some of it into water it will dissolve
immediately. We will make a solution, and see what it will tell us.
"Let us first pour a little of the potash solution, slightly diluted, into a test-tube, containing some
red-cabbage infusion. The color instantly changes to a bluish-green, just as our water changed in the
basin. This proves conclusively that the combustion of the potassium on the water just now produced
potash. We could not see it, but we saw its effect on the red coloring matter of the water.
"I have here some litmus, which has been reddened by an acid. Notice that when I pour a little of
our potash solution on it the original blue color of the litmus is at once restored.
"Lastly, Fred shall pour a few drops of the potash solution into the palm of his hand and taste it.
It has an intensely acrid taste—a taste like that of common washing soda—and produces a strong
caustic or burning sensation on the tongue. This is why it is sometimes called caustic potash.
"This substance—potash—is a sample of a great many bodies, which have the same peculiar
acrid taste, and the same power of changing vegetable reds to blue or green.
"Any substance which has this acrid taste, and is able to turn vegetable red to blue, the chemist
calls a base.
"Many of the bases resemble caustic potash in being soluble in water. These have another name.
They are called alkalies. That is to say, an alkali is a base of a special kind. It is soluble in water, and
it gives to the water a soapy taste and feel.
"Here is some olive-oil. I will pour a little of it into a test-tube, add to it some of the potash
solution, and shake it up for a minute or two. If you now pour some of the mixture into the palm of
your hand, you will at once notice its soft, smooth, soapy feel. In fact, we have made soap.
"I think now you are clear as to the nature of an acid, a base, and an alkali.
"I have now another acid for you to examine. It is called nitric acid, and is one of the most
powerful of all. I will dilute a little of it and put it into a test-tube. Diluted as it is, it has a very sour
taste, as you may easily test for yourselves.
"You of course can tell me what will happen if I dip this blue litmus-paper into the dilute acid?
The color will instantly change to red, as it does with all acids.
"Now, let us turn again to our solution of potash. I dip the reddened litmus into it, and the blue
color is immediately restored like magic. This, you know, is the usual characteristic of a base.
"I want you to watch carefully the next step. I will mix the acid and the base together, and then
test the mixture, as before, with litmus. This time the liquid has no effect upon either to change its
color. The blue litmus remains blue, and the red remains red. The liquid is neither an acid nor a base.
It is neutral to both the blue and the red litmus.
"Perhaps we can learn something more about this liquid. Let us see. If a little of it be poured on
a watch-glass, and allowed to evaporate, we shall find, when all the water has disappeared, that the
surface of the glass will be covered with crystals of a new body. This substance—the product of an
acid and a base—is called a salt. The name of this particular salt is nitre or saltpeter."
 Lesson 58
The Whale and its Products
The cetaceans, or whale-like animals, which include the whale itself, the porpoise, the dolphin,
the dugong, and the manatee, although they live entirely in the water, are all mammals. They bring
forth their young alive, and suckle them just as the land mammals do; they are lung-breathing animals,
and their blood is warm.
Nature, as we have seen, provides her various creatures with some sort of coat to prevent this
bodily heat from being too rapidly dissipated, and modifies that covering to suit the requirements of
each animal. The fur-animals of the frozen regions of the world are a striking example of this
beneficent provision; some of them, such as the white bear, the otter, and the seals, which spend much
of their lives in the icy water, have especially thick warm furs.
The animals we are about to consider now, however, never leave the water, and they are
provided for in a different way; a thick coat of fur would not do in their case. Their skin is bare and
naked on the outside, but immediately beneath it (in fact, forming part of it) is a thick under-coat of
fat. Fat is a bad conductor of heat, so that the under-coat of fat performs the same office for these
creatures as the thick fur covering does for the land mammals. It keeps their blood warm in those icy
seas. But it does more than this; for being lighter than the water, it helps to keep the animals afloat.

It varies from 8 inches to 20 inches in thickness, according to the habitat of the animal. In the
right whale of the frozen Arctic seas it is thickest, and is known as blubber; in the South Sea whale it
is comparatively thin. The seals, because they live partly in the water, have a thin layer of this oily fat
under their fur coat.
There are two kinds of whales—the baleen whale, which has no teeth, and the sperm whale,
which has formidable teeth or tusks in the lower jaw.
The former class includes the Greenland, or right whale of the North Polar Seas; the South Sea
or black whale of the Southern Ocean, especially round the Australian coasts and the extremities of
Africa and America; and the Pacific or American whale of the north coast of America, round the
neighborhood of Behring's Straits. These whales are all very different in shape and size; the most
valuable is the Greenland whale, an enormous creature, the largest of all the animals in the world,
sometimes reaching 80 feet in length.
These whales have no teeth, but they have, hanging down from the upper jaw, on each side of the
tongue, an extensive row of about 300 flat plates or blades of baleen or whalebone. These baleen
plates are at right angles to the jawbone, and hang parallel to each other. They form, as they hang from
the roof of the mouth, a transverse arch, the inner edge of each plate being fringed with stiff but
flexible hairs. When the mouth is shut the fringed edges of the baleen plates rest on the upper convex
surface of the tongue.
The largest of the baleen plates springs from the middle or highest part of the roof. These are
sometimes from 12 to 15 feet in length; each plate is usually from 10 to 12 inches wide at the root,
and about half an inch thick. The plates diminish in size as they near the front of the mouth, those in
the front being only a few inches long. One of the largest plates usually weighs 7 lbs., and the total
yield of whalebone from a large whale is about one ton.
The baleen whales, having no teeth, are unable to kill and devour other large inhabitants of the
sea, in spite of their own enormous size. Their throat is so small that it would be impossible for them
to swallow any creature larger than a herring. Their food, in fact, consists of very small animals—for
the most part the small soft-bodied animals which exist in myriads in every sea.
Think of the enormous number of such small things it must take to supply one meal, and then think
of the manner in which it captures them. Picture to yourselves this powerful creature cleaving its way
with headlong speed through the water, with its immense cavernous mouth wide open. This mouth,
with its fringed baleen plates, is a trap to catch thousands and thousands of the small prey as the
whale rushes through the water.
The baleen whales are hunted and killed for the sake of their blubber and baleen plates.
Whalebone was till late years largely used for the ribs or stretchers of umbrellas. Nowadays
steel frames are mostly used, but whalebone is still employed for the best carriage umbrellas. It is
also much used, split into fibers, as a substitute for bristles for coarse brooms and brushes. It is used
in thin narrow slips to strengthen women's stays and corsets. Whalebone softens when heated, and
becomes pliable. In this state it is molded into a variety of articles, such as knobs for walking-sticks,
whip-handles, etc.
When a whale is caught the blubber is all removed from the carcass for the sake of the oil which
it contains. The blubber of a full-grown whale will yield 100 tons of oil. It is known in commerce as
train-oil or whale-oil.
 The sperm whale or cachalot of the Eastern Archipelago (that is the seas between Australia and
Japan) is a very different animal from the baleen whale. It is sought after mostly for the sake of a very
valuable oil—spermaceti— which is obtained from the head. The oil obtained from the carcass itself
is known as sperm oil.
The head is of enormous size—half as large as the entire body, and is said to weigh 35 tons. It
has formidable teeth in the lower jaw, but no baleen plates. The teeth are from twenty to twenty-five
in number, and vary in size, some of them weighing as much as 30 lbs. The oily matter of the head is
contained in a triangular-shaped hollow, which is known as the sperm case. About 400 gallons of oil
are usually obtained from a single head.
This enormous mass of oil makes the head very light, and, in fact, acts as a kind of float to keep
the nostrils above the water.
Spermaceti is used mostly for making candles, but its use for this and other purposes has greatly
diminished during the last quarter of a century. The introduction of petroleum and vegetable oils has
had the effect of driving this and other animal oils out of the market. The consequence is that the
whale fisheries have gradually declined, both as regards British and foreign ports, while France has
given them up altogether.
 Lesson 59
Silk and the Silk-Worm
The untutored savage, throughout all time, has clothed himself with the skins of mammals, and
adorned his person with the feathers of birds, but it would never dawn upon him to look for his
clothing to the insect race. That to him would appear an absurdity, and yet silk, the most beautiful of
all fabrics, is the product of an insect—the silk-worm.
The silk-worm is the grub or caterpillar of a peculiar kind of moth, which feeds on the leaves of
the mulberry tree. The moth came originally from China. It has a thick-set, hairy body, with short,
stout legs and large cream-colored wings marked with dark stripes. The female is bigger than the
male, and altogether different in appearance. She dies as soon as she has laid her eggs, which are
smaller than grains of mustard-seed, and from 250 to 400 in number; the male does not long survive
her.
The favorite food of the silk-worm, as we said just now, is the leaf of the mulberry tree. People,
therefore, who rear silk-worms provide a constant supply of fresh mulberry leaves, and the mother-
moth lays her eggs on the leaves. The grub, when hatched, emerges from the egg in the form of a little
black worm, not more than a quarter of an inch in length, but there is plenty of food at hand, and it
feeds and grows quickly. While growing it casts its skin as it becomes too small, and another skin
takes its place. During its growth the silk-worm moults, or casts its skin, four times. The first moult
takes place about eight days after it leaves the egg; the second, third, and fourth at regular intervals of
about five days each.

After the last moult it feeds voraciously on the mulberry leaves and continues to grow for about
ten days longer, when it may be said to have reached its full size as a caterpillar. It is then about 2
inches long; its body, which is of a grayish cream color, is supported upon sixteen legs, and consists
of twelve ringed segments, from the last of which projects a sort of horn. It now ceases to feed, and
after fixing itself to some light object, such as a twig, a bit of straw, or a piece of paper rolled up, it
commences to send out, from two small holes under its jaw, a fine, yellow, gum-like substance, which
hardens into a silky thread or fiber on exposure to the air. With this the worm completely envelops
itself as in a ball.
The first day is usually spent in forming a loose, flossy covering for the outside of the ball. This
it afterwards coats with gum, so as to make it into a kind of outer skin. Inside that, during the next
three days, the silk-worm spins a firm ball of fine, strong, yellow fiber, which is the silk of
commerce. The whole forms an oval ball, about the size of a walnut, and is called a cocoon.
The creature—whatever it is—of course occupies the center of the cocoon. It is not a silk-worm,
it is not a moth. It is a lumpy, oval ball, covered with a dark red, shiny skin or shell; but if it were
removed from the cocoon, it would be to all appearance lifeless. It is the silk-worm chrysalis. It has
taken the first stage of that wonderful change, which is peculiar to the life-history of all insects—from
the grub to the pupa or chrysalis, and if left alone it would pass from the pupa to the perfect insect.
Many grubs, when about to enter the pupa or chrysalis stage, envelop themselves in a kind of
silky covering, which they spin with material from their own bodies. The destructive rose-maggot
may always be met with in the spring, curled up in a leaf of the tree, in a loose, flossy covering of its
own spinning. Most caterpillars prepare for the chrysalis stage in the same way, but only the
silkworm caterpillar spins a silk which is of use to us.
After from ten to fifteen days the chrysalis would, if left to itself, give ample proof that it is not
lifeless. During its imprisonment in the cocoon it undergoes wonderful changes, and at the end of the
time emerges from the ball, not as a grub, not as a chrysalis, but as a winged moth able to fly in the
air. It is found that the cocoon from which the moth has been allowed to work its way out does not
yield such good silk as one that has not been broken through. Hence in silk-producing countries the
chrysalis is always killed, by throwing the cocoons into boiling water or steaming them. The hot
water, too, softens the gum on the cocoon, so that the loose outer skin is easily pushed aside to allow
the inner ball of fine silky fiber to be taken out. Of course some of the cocoons are left for the moths
to emerge from them in the natural way, in order that there may be eggs for future hatching.

The process of unwinding the delicate, silky thread of the cocoon without breaking it is one that
requires extreme care. As the silk-worm commenced its spinning operations from the outside, the first
step in the unwinding is to find the outer end of the thread.This done, the rest is easy with care. The
thread is unwound by means of a rotating wheel, each cocoon usually yielding from 300 to 500 yards
of silk. It is estimated that 250 cocoons weigh 1 lb., and as it takes 12 lbs. of these cocoons to
produce 1 lb. of silk, it therefore follows that a single lb, of this raw silk is the result of the work of
3000 silk-worms.
 From the reels the silk is made up into bundles or hanks, and is known as raw silk. A number of
these hanks are usually bound together to make what is known in the trade as a "book." In this state it
is shipped to the manufacturer to be spun into thread and woven into various fabrics.
The raw silk, however, requires careful treatment before it is fit for the spinning machine. It must
first be washed and then thrown. The throwing process consists of twisting several of the delicate
threads together to make one sufficiently strong to be spun into yarn for weaving. It is then known as
thrown silk. The word thrown comes from the Anglo-Saxon word thrawan, which means to twirl or
twist.
The silk-worm will not thrive in cold latitudes. The principal silk-producing countries of the
world are China, Japan, India, Persia, Turkey, Italy, and the South of France. China, as we have
already observed, was the original home of the silk-worm, and today that country provides by far the
greatest supply—more than all the rest put together.
England imports annually from 4 million to 5 million lbs. of raw silk for their home
manufactures, but their main supply of silk comes in the form of manufactured goods, mostly from
France.
The silk manufacture is not one of England's great industries. Yet they have important centers of
activity in the various branches of the trade.
Silks, satins, brocades, and velvets are made in Spitalfields (in the east of London), and in
Macclesfield, Glasgow, Paisley, Manchester, and Dublin. Stockings and gloves are made at
Nottingham; crape at Norwich and Colchester, and ribbons at Coventry, Macclesfield, and Derby.