A FEW FACTS CONCERNING PETROLEUM.
As they approached the oil region, and began to see the tall derricks,
looking like windmill towers, crowning the hilltops, their conversation
naturally turned upon the subject of oil and its production. Arthur
related stories from Brace Barlow’s experience; while Colonel Dale, who,
from weeks of reading, was now as well informed on all matters
pertaining to oil as one can be from books alone, gave them bits of
information concerning its early use and history.
One of Arthur’s stories described the fearfully narrow escape his “dear
giant” once had from a runaway team. He was driving along a lonely road
that ran in the bottom of a narrow valley, and had sixty quarts of
nitro-glycerine snugly stowed under the seat of his buggy. Suddenly he
saw a runaway team attached to a heavy lumber wagon, dashing at a mad
gallop down the road, directly toward him. There was barely time to turn
his own horses into the ditch at one side, and thus leave a narrow space
through which the runaways might have passed in safety, if they had so
chosen.
Instead of doing this, they too headed for the ditch, and plunged into
it, just in front of the glycerine buggy. There they fell over each
other, broke the pole, upset their wagon, and became so entangled in the
wreck that they were incapable of further mischief. All this took place
within ten feet of where Brace Barlow sat, on top of his load of
nitro-glycerine, as steadily as though he did not expect, with each
instant, to be blown into a million fragments, and hurled into eternity.
Then Colonel Dale explained what torpedoes are, and why they are used;
and Miss Hatty said she hoped their well would have to be shot, so that
she might witness the operation. Seeing that his companions were
interested in the subject, the Colonel continued to talk of it. He said:
“Although we, naturally, know and hear more about the oil fields of
Pennsylvania than any other, petroleum is also found in a dozen or more
of our own States and territories, as well as in many other countries of
the world. In Pennsylvania it exists in a narrow territory, lying about
fifty miles west of the Alleghany Mountains; and, as the oil-bearing
belt extends in a general northeast and southwest direction, it is
spoken of as lying on a forty-five-degree line.”
“Just as our farm does,” said Arthur.
“Exactly,” said his grandfather, “and I only hope it may not lie over
one of the many barren places that exist on that line.”
“In this part of the country,” he continued, “the drilling of wells and
the handling of oil have been reduced to a state of perfection and
simplicity unknown elsewhere. Consequently, Pennsylvania well drillers,
with their tools, are in demand in many foreign oil fields, and may be
found, commanding large salaries, in Russia, Japan, China, New Zealand,
Canada, the various countries of Western South America, in several of
the West Indian islands, and elsewhere.
“In China immense oil fields exist, in which wells, drilled centuries
ago, are still in use. Natural gas has also been used in that country
for hundreds, and perhaps thousands, of years. It is conveyed from the
wells through bamboo pipes tipped with rude clay burners.
“Petroleum has also been known and used in Burmah for an unknown length
of time, both for light and fuel. Into a shallow oil well of that
country an iron bucket is lowered by means of a rope, passing over a
wooden cylinder. When the bucket is full, two men take hold of the other
end of the rope, and, by running down an inclined plane as long as the
well is deep, draw it to the surface.”
“What a stupid way,” said Miss Hatty.
“Havana, Cuba,” continued Colonel Dale, “was originally named ‘Carine,’
for it was the place where the early voyagers to the new world careened
their vessels and made their seams water-tight with the natural pitch,
or solidified petroleum, that oozed in abundance from the rocks near the
shores of the harbor. Oil springs are very numerous in Cuba, as they are
in many others of the West Indian islands.”
“Wouldn’t it be good if we could find a flowing oil spring on our farm?”
said Arthur, his eyes glistening at the prospect.
“It would certainly be very pleasant,” replied his grandfather. “And,
speaking of flowing springs, the most wonderful flow of petroleum ever
seen in any country, occurred in 1862 in the town of Enniskillen, in the
western part of the Canadian Province of Ontario, along the borders of a
stream called Black Creek. At that time there was so little demand for
oil that it was only bringing ten cents a barrel, though three years
later it was worth ten dollars a barrel in gold.
“The first well in that region was drilled early in the year; and, at
the depth of only one hundred feet, it entered an immense reservoir of
petroleum. Although oil was of so little value at that time, the
reckless settlers of the country seemed possessed of a rage for drilling
wells, apparently merely for the pleasure of seeing it flow from them.
Some of these rudely drilled wells spouted forth thousands of barrels of
oil in a day, and one of them is computed to have flowed at the rate of
10,000 barrels in twenty-four hours. All these fountains and rivers of
oil were allowed to run absolutely to waste. The waters of Black Creek
were covered by it to a depth of six inches, and it formed a film over
the entire surface of Lake Erie.
“At length this vast quantity of oil was set on fire by some mischievous
person, who wished to see what the effect would be. For days Black Creek
was a torrent of raging flames, that leaped and roared with
inconceivable fury and grandeur. It was such a sight as the world never
had seen, and probably never will see again; while the Canadians were so
thoroughly satisfied with their experiment that they have had no desire
to repeat it since.
“It is estimated that, during the spring and summer of 1862, no less
than five millions of barrels of oil ran to waste down the channel of
Black Creek. Three years later that amount of oil would have been worth,
in the United States, a hundred million of dollars.”
“My!” exclaimed Arthur, drawing a long breath. “I don’t believe I should
know what to do with so much money as that.”
“I am afraid you wouldn’t, dear,” laughed Miss Hatty. “I know that I for
one would not dare assume the responsibility of taking care of, and
spending, such an enormous sum. Why, the man who has one hundredth part
of that, or one million, has more money than many princes, and is
wealthy beyond the average conception; while he who has but a thousandth
part of it, or one hundred thousand dollars, is still a rich man.”
Although Arthur hardly comprehended these figures, they interested him,
and he now asked: “How many barrels of oil will we have to get out of
our well, grandpapa, to give us as much money as we need?”
“That is rather a hard question to answer,” laughed Colonel Dale; “for,
as a general thing, the more money people have, the more they think they
need. However, always supposing that it is not a ‘duster,’ as you have
taught me to call a dry hole, if our well yields twenty-five barrels a
day I shall be pleased. If it should yield fifty barrels I should be
perfectly satisfied; while with a daily yield of one hundred barrels, I
should be amazed and delighted. In that case you might well be called a
‘little oil Prince’; for, with oil at three dollars per barrel, your
income would be at the rate of a hundred thousand dollars a year.”
“But suppose it should yield more than a hundred barrels a day?”
persisted Arthur. “How would you feel then?”
“I am sure I do not know,” laughed his grandfather, “for I cannot
conceive of such a thing as happening. I expect I should feel something
as Mr. Kier of Pittsburgh did in 1860, when the oil that he had been
getting at the rate of two or three barrels a day from his salt wells,
and selling as a medicine for fifty cents a half pint, was suddenly
produced in such quantities that the price fell to about ten cents per
barrel. So, if our well should flow too freely, I should be afraid that
its product would become a drug on the market.”
“Just what Mr. Kier’s had been, but ceased to be,” laughed Miss Hatty.
“What?” asked Arthur, innocently.
“Why, a drug on the market. Didn’t uncle say that it was formerly sold
as a medicine?”
“Oh, yes,” said Arthur, soberly, “I see.”
Just then Miss Hatty, who was very fond of figs, invested ten cents in a
small box of “fig tablets,” as the train-boy called them. She and Arthur
at once began to eat them with evident relish, but Colonel Dale refused
the proffered box.
“What do you suppose you are eating?” he asked, smiling.
“Why, figs of course,” answered Miss Hatty.
“Do you call that a fig leaf?” asked her uncle, pointing to one, cut
from green paper, that lay on top of the box.
“No, certainly not. That is only an imitation leaf,” was the answer.
“Well, it is just as much a real leaf as those are real figs.”
“Why, grandpapa, they have seeds in them!” exclaimed Arthur, as though
that was proof positive that they must be real figs.
“To be sure they have,” laughed Colonel Dale. “The imitation would not
be a good one if the seeds were left out. In spite of their seeds, those
figs are made of petroleum; or rather of paraffine, which is one of the
important products of petroleum. Not long ago I came across a list of
over two hundred articles of commerce that are manufactured directly
from this wonderful oil. Among them were these very ‘fig tablets.’ Other
things made from paraffine are chewing-gum, jujube paste, gum-drops,
some jellies and jams, icing for cakes, etc. The list also contained the
names of all our most brilliant dyes, which are produced from the very
lowest residuum of petroleum tar, and several drugs, among which was a
powerful anæsthetic.”
“Well,” said Miss Hatty, “I am glad I am not so wise as some people. It
is very foolish to know too much; for it takes half the pleasure out of
life. Now I am sure I don’t care to eat any more of these kerosene figs,
even if they have got seeds in them; and yet a minute ago I thought them
quite good.”
“Seems to me,” said practical little Arthur, “that it is more foolish
not to eat a thing that tastes good, if it won’t do you any harm, no
matter what it is made of, than it is to be wise.”
“And it seems to me,” said Colonel Dale, “that we had better be
collecting our things and preparing to leave the train; for here is the
station at which we are to get off.”