We are persuaded that the position taken by Professor Law, and other similar-minded veterinary surgeons, is the only safe one. The disease can be stamped out now with comparatively small loss. If trifled with, and tolerated, it cannot but result in a great national calamity.
SPAIN A FIELD FOR MACHINERY AND PATENTS
From a too lengthy communication to admit in full to our columns, a resident of Madrid communicates to the Scientific American some facts relative to the fertility of the soil of Spain, her necessity for improved agricultural and other implements, and closes with the assertion that it is a good field withal for patents. We cull from the letter as follows:
I have lived, says the writer, for a number of years in this beautiful country, so little understood by foreigners, so little appreciated by its own inhabitants. The Spain of romance, poetry, and song, is the garden as well as the California of Europe. But it stands in great need of the health-giving touch of the North American enterprise. We have here the same mineral treasures, the same unrivaled advantages of climate, that made Spain once the industrial and commercial emporium of the world.
But Spain is awakening. She is endeavoring to shake off her lethargy. The late Exhibition of Paris has proved this; and those who are familiar with the past history and present condition of Spain have been astonished at the result of this effort. A new era has commenced for the country, and it is everywhere evident that a strong current of enterprise and industry has set in. But it is with nations, as with individuals, when they have remained long in complete inaction, brain and muscles are torpid and cannot at first obey the will. Spain needs the assistance of other nations hardened and inured to toil.
The plows now used to till the land are precisely such as were those left by the Moors in the unfinished furrow, when with tears and sighs they bade farewell to their broad fields, their mosques and palaces, whose ideal architecture is still the wonder of the world, to go forth as outcasts and exiles in obedience to the cruel edict that drove them away to the deserts of Africa.
I doubt whether there is an American plow in Spain, much less a steam plow. Sowing and reaping machines are here unknown, and grain is tread out by oxen and mules just as it was in Scripture times, and cleaned by women, who toss it in the air to scatter the chaff. Everything is primitive and Oriental here as yet.
Spain could supply all Europe with butter and cheese, and, on the contrary, these articles are imported in large quantities from England, Holland, and Switzerland. The traveler crosses leagues and leagues of meadow land where not a tree is to be seen, nor one sheep pasture, and which are nevertheless watered by broad rivers that carry away to the ocean the water that would, by irrigation, convert these fields into productive farms. There are many places in Spain where the wine is thrown away for want of purchasers and vats in which to keep it. In the Upper Aragon, the mortar with which the houses are built is made with wine instead of water, the former being the most plentiful. Aragon needs an enterprising American company to convert into wholesome table wine the infinite varieties there produced, and which our neighbors the French buy and carry away to convert into Bordeaux.
We want American enterprise in Galicia and Asturias, where milk is almost given away, to convert it into the best of butter and cheese; and also in those same provinces, where delicious fruit is grown in such abundance that it is left on the ground for the swine.
Spain needs many more railroads and canals, all of which, when constructed, are subsidized by the government; the railroads at the rate of $12,000 a kilometer, and many more additional advantages are offered for canals.
With regard to commerce with Spain, we have to lament the same indifference on the part of the Americans. I have, for instance, an American double-burner petroleum lamp. All who see it admire and covet it, but they are not to be had here. If we except one American in Madrid, who brings mostly pumps and similar articles on a very small scale, we have no dealers in American goods here. Wooden clothes pins, lemon squeezers, clothes horses, potato peelers, and the hundreds of domestic appliances of American invention, elsewhere considered indispensable, are in Spain unknown.
We had confidently expected that the new Spanish law on patents would draw the attention of American inventors toward this country, that to-day offers a wide field for every new practical invention, but I am sorry to see that, with the exception of Edison and a few others, the Americans have not yet availed themselves of the easy facility for taking patents for Spain, where new inventions and new industries are now eagerly accepted and adopted. And while the Americans are thus careless as to their own interests, the French take out and negotiate, in Spain, American patents with insignificant variations.
Let American inventors be assured that any new invention, useful and practical, and above all, requiring but little capital to establish it as an industry, will find a ready sale in Spain.
I could enlarge to a much greater extent upon the indifference of American inventors, merchants, manufacturers, and business men, as to the market they have in Spain in their respective lines, and upon the importance of building up a trade with this country, but to do so would require more space than I think you would feel justified in occupying in your columns.
PETER COOPER AS AN INVENTOR
The successes of Peter Cooper's long and useful life are well known. Not so many are aware of his varied experience in the direction of failure, particularly in the field of invention. More than once he has found his best devices profitless because ahead of his time, or because of conditions, political or otherwise, which no one could foresee. He possessed the rare qualities, however, of pluck and perseverance, and when one thing failed he lost no time in trying something else. Before he was of age he had learned three trades—and he did not make his fortune at either.
In a familiar conversation with a Herald writer recently, Mr. Cooper related some of his early experiences, particularly with reference to enterprises which did not succeed. His father was a hatter, and as a boy young Cooper learned how to make a hat in all its parts. The father was not successful in business, and the hatter's trade seems to have offered little encouragement to the son. Accordingly he learned the art of making ale. Why he did not stick to that calling and become a millionaire brewer, Mr. Cooper does not say. Most probably the national taste for stronger tipple could not at that time be overcome, and ale could not compete with New England rum and apple-jack. The young mechanic next essayed the art of coachmaking, at which he served a full apprenticeship. At the end of his time his employer offered to set him up in business, but the offer was not accepted, through fear of losing another's money. He felt that if he took the money and lost it he would have to be a slave for life. So he quit coachmaking and went to work for a man at Hempstead, L. I., making machines for shearing cloth. In three years, on $1.50 a day, Cooper had saved enough money to buy his employer's patent. Immediately he introduced improvements in the manufacture and in the machine, which the war with England made a great demand for by excluding foreign cloths. At this time Cooper married. In due time the family numbered three, and the young father's inventive faculty was again called upon.
"In those days," said Mr. Cooper to the reporter, smiling as the remembrance came to his mind, "we kept no servants as they do nowadays, and my wife and myself had to do all that was to be done. After our first child was born I used to come into the house and find my wife rocking the cradle, and I relieved her from that while I was there. After doing that for a few days I thought to myself that I could make that thing go of itself. So I went into my shop, and made a pendulous cradle that would rock the child. Then I attached a musical instrument which would sing for it, and at the same time the machine would keep the flies off. The latter was very simple; by hanging something to the cross bar, as the cradle swung under it, backward and forward, it would create wind enough to drive away the flies. The machine was wound up by a weight, and would run for nearly half an hour without stopping. I took out a patent for it, and one day a peddler