There is one important and curious matter which must not be omitted. This, like the moral and intellectual advantages of the cheap paraffin light, has hitherto remained unnoticed, viz., that the introduction of mineral oils and solid paraffin for purposes of illumination and lubrication has largely increased the world’s supply of food.
This may not be generally obvious at first sight; but to him, who, like the writer, has had many a supper at an Italian osteria with peasants and carbonari, it is obvious enough. He will remember how often he has seen the lamp that has lighted himself and companions to their supper filled from the same flask as supplied the salad which formed so important a part of the supper itself. Throughout the South of Europe salads are most important elements of national food, and when thus abundantly eaten the oil is quite necessary, the oil is also used for many of the cookery operations where butter is used here, and this same olive oil has hitherto been the chief, and in some places the sole, illuminating agent. The poor peasant of the South looks jealously at his lamp, and feeds its stingily, for it consumes his richest and choicest food, and, if well supplied, would eat as much as a fair-sized baby.
The Russian peasant and other Northern people have a similar struggle in the matter of tallow. It is their choicest dainty, and yet, to their bitter grief, they have been compelled to burn it. Hundreds and thousands of tons of this and of olive oil have been annually consumed for the lubrication of our steam engines and other machines. A better time is approaching now that paraffin lamps are so rapidly becoming the chief illuminators of the whole civilized world, superseding the crude tallow candle and the antique olive-oil lamp, while, at the same time, the tallow candle is gradually being replaced by the beautiful sperm-like paraffin candle; and, in addition to this, the greedy engines that have consumed so much of the olive oil and the tallow are learning to be satisfied with lubricators made from minerals kindred to themselves.
The peasants of the sunny South will feed upon salads made doubly unctuous and nutritious by the abundant oil; their fried meats, their pastry, omelettes, and sauces will be so much richer and better than heretofore, and the Russian will enjoy more freely his well-beloved and necessary tallow, when the candle is made and the engine lubricated with the fat extracted from coals and stones which no human stomach can envy. I might travel on to China and tell of the work that paraffin and paraffin oils have yet to do among the many millions there and in other countries of the East. The great wave of mineral light has not yet fairly broken upon their shores; but when it has once burst through the outer barriers, it will, without doubt, advance with great rapidity, and with an influence whose beneficence can scarcely be exaggerated.
(The above was written in the early days of paraffin lamps, and while the writer was engaged in the distillation of paraffin oils, etc., from the Leeswood cannel. These are now practically superseded by American petroleum of similar composition, but distilled in Nature’s oilworks. The anticipations that appeared Utopian at the time of writing have since been fully realized, or even exceeded, as the wholesale price of mineral oil has fallen from two shillings per gallon to an average of about eightpence, and lamps have been greatly improved. At this price the cost of maintaining a light of given power in an ordinary lamp is about equal to that of ordinary London gas, if it were supplied at one shilling per thousand cubic feet. The mineral oil, being a fine hydrocarbon, does far less mischief than gas by its combustion, as may be proved by warming a conservatory with a paraffin stove and another with a stove. In the latter all the delicate plants will be killed; in the first they scarcely suffer at all. If these facts were generally understood we should be in a better position for battle with the gas monopolies. The importation of petroleum to the United Kingdom during the first five months of 1882 amounted to 26,297,346 gallons.)
THE SOLIDITY OF THE EARTH.
In his opening address to the Mathematical and Physical Section of the British Association, Sir William Thomson affirmed, “with almost perfect certainty, that, whatever may be the relative densities of rock, solid and melted, or at about the temperature of liquefaction, it is, I think, quite certain that cold solid rock is denser than hot melted rock; and no possible degree of rigidity in the crust could prevent it from breaking in pieces and sinking wholly below the liquid lava,” and that “this process must go on until the sunk portions of the crust build up from the bottom a sufficiently close-ribbed skeleton or frame, to allow fresh incrustations to remain bridged across the now small areas of lava-pools or lakes.”11
This would doubtless be the case if the material of the earth were chemically homogeneous or of equal specific gravity throughout, and if it were chemically inert in reference to its superficial or atmospheric surroundings. But such is not the case. All we know of the earth shows that it is composed of materials of varying specific gravities, and that the range of this variation exceeds that which is due to the difference between the theoretical internal heat of the earth and its actual surface temperature.
We know by direct experiment that these materials, when fused together, arrange themselves according to their specific gravities, with the slight modification due to their mutual diffusibilities. If we take a mixture of the solid elements of which the earth, so far as we know it, is composed, fused them, and leave them exposed to atmospheric action, what will occur?
The heavy metals will sink, the heaviest to the bottom, the lighter metals (i.e., those that we call the metals of the earths, because they form the basis of the earth’s superficial crust) will rise along with the silicon, etc., to the surface; these and the silicon will oxidize and combine, forming silicates, and with a sufficient supply of carbonic acid, some of them, such as calcium, magnesium, etc., will form carbonates when the temperature sinks below that of the dissociation of such compounds.
The scoria thus formed will float upon the heavy metals below and protect them from cooling by resisting their radiation; but if in the course of contraction of this crust some fissures are formed reaching to the melted metals below, the pressure of the floating solid will inject the fluid metal upwards into these fissures to a height corresponding to the flotation depth of the solid, and thus form metallic veins permeating the lower strata of the crust. I need scarcely add that this would rudely but fairly represent what we know of the earth.
But it may be objected that I only describe an imaginary experiment. This is true as regards the whole of the materials united in a single fusion. Nobody has yet produced a complete model with platinum and gold in the centre, and all the other metals arranged in theoretical order with the oxidized, silicated, and carbonated crust outside; but with a limited number of elements this has been done, is being done daily, on a scale of sufficient magnitude to amply refute Sir William Thomson’s description of a fused earth solidifying from the centre outwards.
This refutation is to be seen in our blast furnaces, refining furnaces, puddling furnaces, Bessemer ladles, steel melting-pots, cupels, foundry crucibles; in fact, in almost every metallurgical operation down to the simple fusion of lead or solder in a plumber’s ladle, with its familiar floating crust of dross or oxide.
As an example I will, on account of its simplicity, take the open hearth finery and the refining of pig-iron. Here a metallic mixture of iron, silicon, carbon, sulphur, etc., is simply fused and exposed to the superficial action of atmospheric air. What is the result?
Oxidation of the more oxidizable constituents takes place, and these oxides at once arrange themselves according to their specific gravities. The oxidized carbon forms atmospheric matter and rises above all as carbonic acid, then the oxidized silicon, being lighter than the iron, floats above that, and combines with aluminium or calcium that may have been in the pig and with some of the iron; thus forming a silicious crust closely resembling the predominating material of the earth’s crust.
When the oxidation in the finery is carried far enough, the melted material is tapped out into a rectangular basin or mould, usually about 10 feet long and about 3 feet wide, where it settles and cools. During this cooling the silica and silicates—i.e., the rock matter—separate from the metallic matter and solidify on the surface as a thin crust, which behaves in a very interesting and instructive