“The Stimulant Vice is the principal cause of human
degeneration.”—_Haller._
Science tells us that there is a general progressive tendency in nature.
According to the opinion of some modern biologists, all plants and
animals have been developed from lower and less perfect organisms, and
still continue their upward progress. We may reject that view, or accept
it with considerable modifications; but one thing remains certain:
Nature does not go backward of her own accord. Wherever the harmony of
creation has not been wilfully disturbed the trees are as tall as of
yore, the fruits as sweet and the flowers as fragrant. The eagle soars
as high as ever, the song-thrush has not forgotten her anthems, nor the
swallow her swift flight, the ostrich still scorneth the horse and his
rider, it still requires a Samson to rend a young lion. How, then, can
it be explained that the noblest work of Nature makes a sad exception to
that rule? How is it that man alone is sinking in misery and disease,
growing weaklier and sicklier from century to century, from generation
to generation? War has not dealt us those wounds, famine and pestilence
can not explain our “ailments and pains, in form, variety and degree
beyond description.” The influence of all transient causes of evil is
counteracted by the healing agencies of Nature. See the children of the
wilderness, how soon they recover from hurts and wounds, how completely
from the effects of protracted starvation, their off-spring as sound
as their ancestors in Eden. No, the cause of our degeneracy must be a
permanently active cause, and with the assurance of a clear and perfect
conviction we can say: That restless enemy of human health and happiness
is the poison vice.
Without the redeeming influence of nature, the balm of sleep and the
regenesis[1] of every new birth, alcohol alone would have effected the
destruction of the human race. During the gradual development of the vice
the adaptive faculties of the human system have somewhat modified its
influence, but its real significance reveals itself when its flood-gates
are suddenly opened upon an _unprepared_ race. In Siberia, in Polynesia,
and among the aborigines of our own continent, the alcohol plague has
raged with the destructiveness of the black death;[2] wigwams, villages,
nay, entire districts have been depopulated in the course of a single
generation. Among the Caucasian[3] nations, where the vice has gradually
progressed from half-fermented must to brandy, its baneful effects are
less sudden, but not less certain. From age to age the form created in
the image of God has decayed, has shrunk like a building collapsing under
the progress of a devouring fire. Wherever intemperance has increased,
manhood and strength have decreased. The Anacreons[4] of antiquity
indulged in wine only at occasional festivals. The peasants of the Middle
Ages were generally too poor to use intoxicating drinks of any kind.
But by and by wages improved. Strong ale and brandy were added to the
home-brewed beverages of the working classes. Habitual stimulation, once
the ruin of the idle aristocrat, became the curse of the masses. The
_poison marasmus_[5] became a pandemic[6] plague. The yeomen of ancient
England would not recognize their gin drinking descendants; a Norman
Knight could have crushed a Stockholm dandy with a single grip of his
fist. Challenge the apostles of lager beer, take them to Nuremberg, to
the armory of the old City Hall, let them pick their champion from the
ranks of the bloated and sickly looking citizens, defy them to find a
single man able to wield the weapons that were toys in the hands of the
old burghers. Or the advocates of “good, cheap, country wine”—take them
to Spain and let them see what the best wine has done for the manliest
race on earth. The inhabitants of Castile, of Aragon, Valencia, Barcelona
and Leon are the descendants of the old Visigoths,[7] a race of rude
warriors who overpowered the disciplined legions of Rome as easily
as the Romans would have quelled a rabble of African rebels. Gibbon
describes their first encounter with the Roman armies, how the imperial
general invited the Gothic chieftains to a banquet, where he intended to
assassinate their guards and attack their camps during the confusion,
and how the Goths were saved by the intrepidity of their leaders: “At
these words, Fritigern[8] and his companions drew their swords, opened
their passage through the unresisting crowd, and, mounting their horses,
hastily vanished from the eyes of the astonished Romans. The generals of
the Goths were saluted by the fierce and joyful acclamations of the camp;
war was instantly resolved, the banners of the nation were displayed
according to the custom of their ancestors, and the air resounded with
the march signals of the barbarian trumpet.” No painter’s magic could
more vividly evoke the forms of that giant race, their chieftains making
their way through a crowd of shrinking cowards, the tumult of the camp,
and the iron-fisted warriors, receiving their leaders with exultant
shouts! And those men were the ancestors of the modern Spaniards—lions
shrunk into cats, eagles into mousing hawks! It is idle sophistry to
ascribe that result to climatic influences. In a warmer climate than
Spain the abstemious Arabs, the Afghans, and the Moors have preserved
the vigor of their earliest ancestors. The soil that now produces
_lazzaroni_[9] and _musici_[10] was once trod by the conquerors of three
continents. In the snow-bound wigwams of the North American Indians a
cold climate has not prevented the ravages of the alcohol plague. Poison
has filled more graves than the sword, more than famine, and the plague
and all the hostile powers of Nature taken together. The poison vice has
shortened our average longevity by twenty years,[D] has turned athletes
into cripples, giants into dwarfs.
Yet that result does not prove the vindictiveness of Nature; but
her patience, the infinite patience that has prevented our utter
self-destruction by mitigating the consequences of our suicidal follies.
At night, while the drunkard sleeps his torpor sleep, the hand of our
All-mother cools his fevered brow, the subtle alchemy of the organism
allays the effects of the poison while the system performs at least a
portion of its vital functions; in every child the influence of ancestral
sins is modified by the tendency of redeeming instincts. If it were not
for the restless activity of those remedial influences, fire-water alone
would have caused more havoc than the deluge. From a pessimistic point of
view the study of the physical effects of the poison vice might almost
justify the conjecture of the biologist Hoffmann. “Nature,” says he, “has
set limits to the over increase of every species of animals. Insects
prey upon smaller insects, minnows upon midges, trouts upon minnows,
pikes upon trouts, the fish-otter upon pikes, and man himself upon the
fish-otter. Man himself has no earthly rival, but Providence (_die
Vorsehung_) has met that difficulty by making him a self-destructive
animal!”
If that shocking idea were not at variance with other facts, one might,
indeed, admire the ingenious adaptation of means to ends, for if it were
the intention of God to limit our prosperity and afflict us with every
possible evil short of absolute annihilation, he could certainly not have
chosen a more efficient agent than alcohol.
Alcohol, the rectified product of the vinous fermentation (_i. e._,
decomposition) of various saccharine fluids, and included by chemists
among the narcotic poisons, exercises a metamorphosic effect on every
organ of the human body; and no fact in physiology is more incontestably
established than that all its _appreciable_ effects are deleterious
ones. The advocates of alcohol base their claims upon vague theories.
The opponents of alcohol base their claims upon obvious facts. It
has been asserted that alcohol protects the system against cold, but
the exponents of that theory have failed to show how the constituent
elements of alcohol can take the place of the natural heat producers,
the non-nitrogenous foods; they have also failed to explain a fact
established by the unanimous testimony of polar travelers, namely, that a
low temperature can be longer and more easily endured by total abstainers
than by those who indulge in _any kind_ of alcoholic drinks.
Alcohol has been called a “negative food,” because it retards the
progress of the organic changes; but it has been demonstrated that
that retardation is in every case an abnormal and morbid process, and
that its results can not benefit the system in any appreciable way,
while its deleterious effects are seen in the fatty degeneration of the
tissues, the impoverished condition of the blood, and many other symptoms
characterizing the influence of insufficient nutrition. Alcohol has been
called a positive food, because, forsooth, it is derived (by a process
of decomposition) from grain, fruits and other nutritive substances. We
might as well call mildew a nutritive substance because it is formed
by the decay of wholesome food. “There is no more evidence,” says Dr.
Parker, “of alcohol being in any way utilized in the body, than there is
in regard to ether or chloroform. If alcohol is to be still designated
as _food_, we must extend the meaning of that term so as to make it
comprehend not only chloroform, but all medicines and poisons—in fact,
everything which can be swallowed and absorbed, however foreign it may
be to the normal condition of the body, and however injurious to its
functions. On the other hand, from no definition that can be framed of
a _poison_, which should include those more powerful anæsthetic agents,
whose poisonous character has been unfortunately too clearly manifested
in a great number of instances, can alcohol be fairly shut out.”
The antiseptic influence of alcohol was long supposed to constitute a
safeguard against malarial diseases, but it has been found that the
prophylactic[11] effect of distilled liquors is confined to the period
of actual stimulation (the alcohol fever), and that in the long run
abstinence is from eight to ten times more prophylactic than dram
drinking.
Alcohol has been mistaken for an invigorating tonic; but we have seen
that the supposed process of invigoration is a process of stimulation,
or rather of irritation, and that we might as well try to “invigorate” a
weary traveler by drenching him with _aqua fortis_.[12]
On the other hand, it has been proved by ocular demonstration that
alcoholic liquids, applied to the living tissue, induce redness
and inflammation, and cover the mucous lining of the stomach with
ulcerous patches; that they change the structure of the liver, stud
it with tubercles and disqualify it for its proper functions, though
by obstructing its vascular ducts they often swell it to twice, and
sometimes to five times, its natural size. The weight of a healthy liver
varies from five to eight pounds, and Dr. Youmans mentions the post
mortem examination of an English drunkard whose liver was found to weigh
_fifty pounds_, and adds that in spite of this enormous enlargement
of the bile-secreting organ, the man died from a deficiency of bile.
The records of the Parisian charity hospitals have established the
fact that the moderate use of alcoholic drinks during a period of five
years is sufficient to permeate the substance of the liver with fatty
infiltrations, and that the liver of old drunkards undergoes changes
which make it practically a lump of inert matter, a mass of compacted
tubercles and scirrhous[13] ulcers. Even in the advanced stages of the
disorder a large dose of concentrated alcohol rouses the diseased organ
into a sort of feverish activity which, however, soon subsides into
a deeper and more incurable torpor. Hence the temporary efficacy and
ultimate uselessness (to say the least) of alcoholic “liver regulators.”
It has also been proved that alcohol inflames the brain, obstructs the
kidneys, impoverishes the blood, and impairs the functional vigor of the
respiratory organs.
The infallible necessity of all these results can be more fully realized
by a clear comprehension of the proximate causes, which may be summed
up in a few words: While the organism has to waste its strength on the
elimination of the poison, it must neglect its normal functions, or
perform them in a hasty, perfunctory way. Let me illustrate the matter
by an apologue.[14] A family of poor tenants occupy a cottage at the
edge of the woods. They are honest, hard-working people, trying their
best to live within their means, but at a certain hour they are every
day attacked by a bear. Before the good man can mend his jacket, before
the good wife has cooked her dinner, before the boys have finished their
spelling lesson, they have to rally and fight that brute. Sometimes the
bear comes twice a day. They generally manage to hustle him out of the
premises, but if they return to their cottage the father’s jacket is torn
into shreds, the dinner is burned, and in the excitement of the row the
boys have forgotten their lesson. Their clothes are torn, their hands and
faces bear the marks of the scrimmage, the whole household is in a state
of the wildest disorder. The poor people go to work and try to repair the
mischief the best way they can, but before they have finished the job
the bear comes back, and another rumpus turns the house upside down. No
wonder that things go from bad to worse, no wonder the tenants can not
pay their rent; but a very considerable wonder that the landlord does not
relieve them by killing that bear.
The manliest races of the present world are probably the Lesghian[15]
and Daghistan[16] mountaineers, who inhabit the southern highlands
of the Caucasus,[17] and who defied the power of the Russian empire
for sixty-five years. From 1792 to 1858, army after army of schnapps
drinking[18] Muscovites[19] attacked them from the north, east and west,
and were hurled back like dogs from the lair of a lion, and _fifteen
hundred thousand_ Russian soldiers perished in the Caucasian defiles
before the Russian eagles supplanted the crescent of Daghistan. For
the heroic highlanders are Mohammedans, and _total abstainers from
intoxicating drinks_. The Ossetes,[20] who inhabit the foothills of the
northern range, are addicted to the use of _slibovits_[21] (peach brandy)
and other stimulants, and their bloated faces present a striking contrast
to the clean-cut features of the tribes who have been chosen as the
representatives of the white race. They are as stubborn as their southern
neighbors, but not as enterprising; as self-sacrificing in the defense of
their country, but not as self-reliant. In spite of their healthy climate
they are cachectic[22] and rather dull witted; alcohol has stunted their
stamina as well as their stature.
But there are other forms of physical degeneration which can with
certainty be ascribed to the influence of the secondary stimulants,
tobacco, tea, coffee, and pungent spices. Tobacco makes the Turks
indolent, tea and coffee make us nervous and dyspeptic; and the
worst is that those minor vices pave the way to ruin; a constitution
enfeebled by theïne poison[23] is less able to resist the influence of
fusel poison. It is a great mistake to suppose that abstinence from
concentrated alcoholic liquors could atone for the habitual use of other
stimulants. The vices of our ancestors were gross, but one-sided; ours
are more manifold, and in their effects more comprehensive. In France
many so-called temperate drinkers indulge in light wine, absinthe, tea,
coffee and chloral, and are weaklier and sicklier than the Hungarian
dram drinkers who confine themselves to plum brandy, for the system
of the miscellaneous poison-monger has to defend itself against five
enemies, and, as it were, sustain the wounds of five different weapons.
The mediæval knights and many Grecian and Roman epicureans could drink
a quantity of wine that would kill a modern toper; but they confined
themselves to that one stimulant, and showed sense enough to keep it
from their boys, who had a chance to fortify their constitutions with
gymnastics before they endangered them with alcohol, and not rarely
thus fortified their mental constitutions to a degree that made them
temptation proof. Pythagoras and Mohammed interdicted wine, and that
statute did not interfere with the propagation of their doctrines, for
voluntary abstainers were by no means rare—before the introduction of
secondary stimulants. We fuddle our schoolboys with coffee and cider, and
it is a curious and very frequent consequence of that early development
of the stimulant habit that its victim forgets the happiness of his
childhood and accepts daily headaches and chronic nightmares as some of
the “ills that flesh is heir to.” Rousseau believed that a man would
be safe against the poison vice if he could reach his twentieth year
without contracting the habit, because in the meantime observation would
have taught him the effects of intemperance. But his safety would be
guaranteed by another circumstance. He would know what health means, and
no deference to established customs would tempt him to exchange freedom
for chains.
But a still greater mistake is the idea that drunkenness could be abated
by the introduction of milder alcoholic drinks. We can not fight rum with
lager beer. All poison habits are progressive, and we have seen that
the beer vice is always apt to eventuate in a brandy vice, or else to
equalize the difference by a progressive enlargement of the dose. Common
brandy contains fifty per cent. of alcohol, lager beer about ten; so,
if A. drinks one glass of brandy and B. five glasses of beer they have
outraged their systems by the same amount of poison and will incur the
same penalty. Total abstinence is the safe plan, nay, the only safe plan,
for poisons can not be reduced to a harmless dose. By diminishing the
quantities of the stimulant we certainly diminish its power for mischief,
but as long as the dose is large enough to produce any appreciable effect
that effect is a deleterious one.
Various diseases and that artificial disorder called intoxication react
on certain faculties of the mind (by affecting their corresponding
cerebral organ) as regularly as on the liver or any other part of the
human organism. Consumption stimulates the love of life: a self-deluding
hope of recovery characterizes the advanced stage of the disease as
invariably as the hectic flush that simulates the color of health.
Hasheesh excites combativeness. Alcohol first excites and gradually
impairs _self-reliance_, and thus undermines the basis of truthfulness,
of private and social enterprise, of manly courage and generosity. Moral
cowardice, the chief reproach of our generation, has more to do with the
tyranny of the poison vice than with the despotism of social prejudices.
The brain stimulating effect of alcohol decreases with every repetition
of the dose, and Dr. Theodore Chambers warns us that “however long the
evil results of such habitual overtasking may be postponed, they are
sure to manifest themselves at last in _that general breakdown which is
the necessary sequence of a long continued excess of expenditure over
income_.”
Besides, even the temporary results would not justify that expenditure.
“Brain workers should confine themselves to _metaphysical tonics_,” says
Dr. Bouchardat[24]; “alcoholic drinks, at any rate, are unavailable for
that purpose. Even after a single glass of champagne I have found that
the slight mental exaltation is accompanied by a slight obfuscation.[25]
The mind soars, but it soars into the clouds.” “Wine stirs the brain,”
says the poet Chamisso, “but not its higher faculties as much as the
sediments that muddle it.”
The Arabs have a tradition that soon after the flood, when Nunus (the
Arabian Noah) had resumed his agricultural pursuits, a _Ghin_, or
spirit, appeared to him and taught him the art of manufacturing wine
from grape-juice. “This beverage, O son of an earthly father,” said
the _Ghin_, “is a liquid of peculiar properties. The first bumperful
will make you as tame as a sheep. If you repeat the experiment you will
become as fierce as a rampant lion. After the third dose you will roll
in the mud like a hog.” If the _Ghin_ had been a spirit of epigrammatic
abilities he might have summarized his remarks: “The effects of this
liquid, O Nunus, vary, of course, with the amount of the dose. But if you
drink it you will infallibly make a beast of yourself.”
In the long list of artificial stimulants, with all their modifications
and compounds, there is no such thing as a harmless tonic. Alcohol,
especially, is in all its disguises, the most implacable enemy of the
human organism. In large quantities it is a lethal[26] poison; in smaller
doses its effects are less deadly but not less certainly injurious, and
the advocates of moderate drinking might as well recommend moderate
perjury. Our lager beer enthusiasts might just as well advise us to
introduce a milder brand of rattlesnakes. The alcohol habit in all its
forms and in every stage of its development, is a degrading vice.
[D] Since the end of the seventeenth century—_i. e._, since a time
when medical delusions made every hospital a death trap—longevity has
slightly increased, but, as compared with the first century of our
chronological era, it has enormously decreased. Peasants outlive men
of letters, and yet the records of the ancients show that nearly half
their poets, statesmen and philosophers were centenarians. If the
years of the patriarchs were solar years their average longevity was
280 years; if they were seasons (of six months), at least 120 years.
The Bible years were certainly not _months_, for men who “saw their
children and children’s children,” can not have died before their
thirtieth year.
STUDIES IN KITCHEN SCIENCE AND ART.
III. BARLEY, OATS, RICE AND BUCKWHEAT.
BY BYRON D. HALSTED, SC. D.
BARLEY (_Hordeum vulgare_[1]) is thought by some historians to be the
oldest of the cultivated grains. Professor Brewer says it was the chief
bread plant of the ancient Hebrews, Greeks, and Romans. There are several
varieties, the principal ones being the two-rowed and the six-rowed. Like
wheat and rye, barley is both a spring and winter grain; though with us
the seed is usually sown in the spring.
Barley is the most hardy cereal, and may be successfully cultivated over
the widest range of climate. It is grown in central Siberia, northern
Russia, and in Lapland to latitude 70°. At the opposite extreme, barley
flourishes in semi-tropical countries. In 1880 the area of barley in the
United States was 1,997,717 acres, with a yield of 44,113,495 bushels.
The average yield, therefore, is not far from twenty-five bushels per
acre. Though adapted for a wide range of growth, its cultivation is
principally confined to a few states, the leading ones of which are
California, with twelve and a half million bushels; New York, seven and
two-thirds millions; Wisconsin, five million; Iowa, four millions; and
Minnesota, three millions bushels. It will be seen by comparing these
figures with the total above given that California and New York produce
nearly one half (46 per cent.) of all the barley grown in this country.
These two states are very unlike in soil, climate, etc. In California the
conditions are not favorable for the growth of oats and corn, and for
similar reasons barley is the leading grain in Nevada and Arizona. The
cultivation of this crop in New York and other eastern states has been
stimulated by the great demand for the grain in the manufacture of beer.
It has proved more profitable than wheat in many localities, especially
where the latter grain has been infested with the Hessian fly. It is
interesting to note that Pennsylvania produces less than half a million
bushels, or not over one eighth as much as New York. This only shows,
as is abundantly illustrated in many other cases, that market, soil and
climate may have everything to do with the area devoted to any particular
crop.
Barley was largely grown by the early settlers of New England, who used
the grain for making bread, but for this purpose corn supplanted it in
later years, it being better fitted for table dishes. Barley forms an
important food for domestic animals, the greater part of the immense
quantities grown on the Pacific coast being used for this purpose.
Professor Brewer says: “Only a very insignificant quantity is used for
food in this country; less than of any other cereal.” “Pearled barley” is
the grain with the outer hull removed, and in this condition it is used
to a considerable extent in soups and in other foods. The following is
the chemical composition of barley, pearled barley and barley meal:
WATER. ASH. ALBUMINOIDS. FIBER. STARCH, GUM, &C. FAT.
Barley 11.09 2.47 12.41 2.89 69.32 1.82
Pearled B. 11.82 0.98 8.44 0.32 77.76 0.68
Barley Meal 9.85 3.77 12.68 7.00 63.46 3.24
The chemical constituents of barley do not vary greatly from those of
wheat. There is more ash and fiber because the hull is thicker. It is
seen that the per cent. of these two constituents is much reduced in the
analysis of the pearled barley, in which the outer covering is removed.
We here have a demonstration of the fact that the starchy matters are
more abundant in the central part of the grain, while the albuminoids,
ash, fiber, and fat abound near the surface. Barley, when ground into
meal, makes a rich feed for live stock.
The chief use now made of barley grown in the eastern states is in the
making of beer. Barley has been employed for this purpose from very early
times. The old Egyptians made beer, and the ancient Greeks and Romans
were acquainted with its manufacture, as well as with its effects upon
the human system. The process is as follows: First soak the grain in
water, and then allow it to germinate or sprout. Chemical changes take
place in the starchy materials of the grain, by which they become soluble
in water. After the sprouting has advanced far enough the grain is heated
and dried, when the product is called malt. This malt, or kiln-dried
sprouted grain is ground or crushed between rollers, and placed in mash
tubs with warm water. During this gradual heating the changed starch
is dissolved by the water. After the infusion settles the clear liquid
is drawn off and boiled in a vessel with hops. The boiling liquid is
strained, cooled, and run into the fermentation vats, where yeast is
added. During the fermentation a part of the sugar derived from the
starch is converted into alcohol. After a refining process the beer is
ready to go into the casks. Ale, Scotch ale, small beer, porter, stout,
and lager beer are the malt products of barley. The amount of capital
now invested in the manufacture of beer is very great, and to those who
carefully measure the evils of the beer shop it seems like a very poor
place for one’s money.
Barley is imported in large quantities from Canada, in 1880 the amount
being over seven million bushels, chiefly for malting. Enormous
quantities are imported by Great Britain from several countries, the
leading being Turkey, France, Germany and Russia. Professor Brewer says:
“The cultivation of barley is doubtless on the increase, and there are
many reasons, too, for the belief that its production in America will
very greatly increase during the present century.”
The enemies of barley are nearly the same as those of wheat. It is more
free from rust and smut, and less liable to be attacked by insects. The
crop, though disagreeable to harvest, owing to the penetrating beards and
poisonous effects to many who handle the straw, is a comparatively sure
one.
OATS (_Avena sativa_[2]) rank third in importance among the grains grown
in the United States. The native country of the oat is not certainly
known. “It was cultivated by the prehistoric inhabitants of Central
Europe and is found in the remains of the lake habitations[3] in
Switzerland.” In Scotland oats have long been a leading crop for human
food, and in compiling his dictionary, Dr. Johnson took occasion to fling
a sarcasm at the Scotch by defining oats as being a food for horses in
England and for men in Scotland. Had he lived now, and seen how generally
oats are employed as an article of human food, his definition would have
been far different and much more valuable. It is due to Scotland, in
passing, to say that she produces a very superior quality of oats.
There are many varieties of oats, all of which have probably arisen from
the same species of _avena_. The ordinary oats have the hull or husk
adherent to the kernel, and are divided into two classes. In one, the
flower cluster branches from both sides of the stem, while in the other,
the branches are all upon one side. There is a group of “skinless” sorts,
but little grown, in which the husk separates from its contents.
The total area in oats in the United States in 1880 was 16,144,593, with
a yield of 467,858,999, or an average of not far from twenty-nine bushels
per acre. Illinois, Iowa, New York, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin lead in
the amount of oats grown, and in the order mentioned. These five states
produce over half of all the oats grown in this country. Maine, Vermont,
New York and Wyoming raise more oats than any other grain.
Oats vary greatly in weight per bushel, the heaviest being produced in
a cold, moist climate. In Scotland they frequently weigh fifty pounds
to the bushel, while with us the legal weight is thirty-two, with a
range of from twenty to forty-five pounds to the bushel. Oat straw is
much relished by sheep and cattle, and is superior to that of barley or
wheat. Oats are grown extensively in some localities as a substitute for
hay, and are cut before they begin to ripen. They also make an excellent
forage crop, and after being pastured off the ground the soil is left in
a fine condition for the next crop.
The chemical composition of oats and oat meal is as follows:
WATER. ASH. ALBUMINOIDS. FIBER. STARCH, &C. FAT.
Oats, 10.56 2.95 11.41 9.01 61.10 4.97
Oat meal, 7.85 2.01 14.66 0.86 67.56 7.06
Corn meal, 15.97 1.27 8.19 1.61 69.50 3.46
Graham, 13.09 1.77 11.67 1.87 69.89 1.71
The composition of corn meal and Graham is given for the sake of a
convenient comparison. It will be seen that oats, and especially the
meal, or flour, is rich in nitrogenous or muscle forming compounds,
namely, the albuminoids. There is also a very large per cent. of fat, and
less starch than in corn or wheat.
Of the nutritive value of oatmeal Professor Brewer notes: “Whether it
is true that oatmeal is actually more wholesome or more nutritious than
cracked wheat, for example, is very questionable, but it certainly is
more palatable to work people. In the United States oatmeal in any form
has been but sparingly used for human food until within a few years,
but of late its consumption has increased enormously, many grocers now
selling as many barrels a year as they sold pounds less than a score of
years ago. This increase in the use of oatmeal is most marked in the
cities of the older states, but it has extended to the villages and farms
and even to the farthest frontier settlements.”
The enemies to the oat crop are not as many as of wheat. The rust and
smut do some injury, as also the insects that feed upon wheat and other
cereals.
RICE (_Oryza sativa_[4]) it is believed enters more largely into the
nourishment of the human family than any other plant. It is a native of
the East Indies, but is now cultivated in most tropical and sub-tropical
climates. The rice plant requires an abundance of water in the soil,
and thrives best on land subject to overflow for a portion of the
year, or which is artificially flooded. Rice is most largely grown
in India, China, Japan and Egypt—India alone producing nearly thirty
million bushels per year. The rice grown in this country is confined
to eight states, with an area of 174,173 acres in 1879, and a yield
of 110,131,373 pounds, averaging 632 pounds per acre. Ninety per cent.
of this crop is grown in the three following states: South Carolina,
Louisiana, and Georgia. It is seen that the region suited to the
growth of rice is much more limited than with the other cereals. The
following description of rice growing in the South is from the _American
Agriculturist_: “The method pursued on the rice lands of the lower
Mississippi is to sow the rice broadcast about as thick as wheat at
the North, and harrow it in with a light harrow having many teeth, the
ground being first well plowed and prepared by ditches and embankments
for inundation at will. It is generally sown in March. Immediately after
sowing the water is let on so as to barely overflow the ground. The water
is withdrawn on the second, third or fourth day, or as soon as the grain
begins to swell. The rice very soon after comes up and grows finely.
When it has attained about three inches in height the water is again
let on, the top leaves being left a little above the water. Complete
immersion would kill the plant. A fortnight previous to harvest the water
is drawn off to give the stalks strength and to dry the ground for the
convenience of the reapers.… The same area of ground yields three times
as much rice as wheat.… Rice, like hemp, does not impoverish the soil.…
The pine barrens of Mississippi would produce rice _ad infinitum_ if it
were not that the land, after a few years, owing to the sandy nature of
the soil, becomes too dry for it.… No variety has been discovered which
yields as much out of the water as it does in it.… It flourishes better
when overflowed with pure running water than with the stagnant waters of
impure lakes and marshes.”
The chemical composition of rice grain is as follows: Water 12.44, ash
0.38, albuminoids 7.44, fiber 0.19, starch, etc. 19.20, fat 0.35. It
is seen to contain a less amount of the flesh forming or albuminoid
compounds, and a greater per cent. of heat producing or starchy matter,
than the other grains. The flour contains so little gluten that it can
not be made into light bread. Rice is familiar to all as white, pearly
grains, which are employed as the leading ingredient of puddings, etc.
The outer covering or husk is removed in the process of threshing, but to
separate the inner requires expensive machinery. “The rough rice is first
ground between very heavy stones running at a high speed, which partially
removes the hull chaff. The grain is conveyed into mortars, where it is
pounded for a certain length of time by the alternate rising and falling
of very heavy pestles shod with iron. From these mortars elevators
carry the rice to the fans which separate the grain from the remaining
husks. From here it goes through other fans which divide it into three
qualities—‘whole,’ ‘middling’ and ‘small.’ The whole rice is then passed
through a polishing screen, lined with gauze wire and sheepskins, which,
revolving vertically at the greatest possible speed, gives it the
pearly whiteness with which it appears in commerce.” The “small” rice
is sometimes ground and employed to adulterate wheat flour. Rice, when
prepared in the many forms of puddings, cakes, soups, etc., is very easy
of digestion, and is specially fitted for the food of invalids. In Japan,
where the rice crop is a leading one, an alcoholic drink called _sake_ is
made from it. A wine is made in China from this grain, and the _Arrack_
of the East is also a rice beverage.
BUCKWHEAT (_Polygonnum esculentum_[5]). The six grains already treated
in this and the preceding article are all members of the great grass
family. The remaining cereal belongs to another and distantly related
group of plants. Buckwheat is a member of a small family containing the
knotweeds, bindweeds, smartweeds, dock and rhubarb. The buckwheat plant
in its growth and structure is very different from the grasses. It is
supposed to be a native of northern Asia, and has been cultivated for its
large, triangular seeds, from very early times. The name is derived from
the German _Buck-weizen_, “beech wheat,” the shape of the grain closely
resembling that of the beech nut.
The buckwheat crop in the United States for 1879 was 11,817,227 bushels,
for 848,389 acres, or about fourteen bushels per acre. The increase in
the total yield of buckwheat is not keeping pace with the increase in
population. New York and Pennsylvania are the leading buckwheat producing
states, sixty-eight per cent. of the whole crop of 1879 being grown
within their borders. Hilly regions, with a thin soil, that are not
suited to other grains, may be profitably devoted to growing buckwheat.
It is known as a “wide feeder;” that is, the buckwheat plant produces
long, wide-spreading roots which penetrate the poor soil for long
distances and gather nourishment over a wide area. On this account this
crop is frequently grown on worn-out soil and plowed under while green
as a fertilizer, in preparation for some other crop requiring more plant
food close at hand in the soil. The period of growth is short, being sown
in midsummer and harvested before the autumn frosts have an opportunity
to injure it. It frequently serves a good purpose as a second crop where
the first has failed from poor seed, bad weather, destructive insects, or
one or more of these or other causes. The grain is especially wholesome
for poultry, and while the field is in bloom bees harvest a larger store
of honey, though not of the best quality.
The chemical composition of buckwheat and its flour is as follows:
WATER. ASH. ALBUMINOIDS. FIBER. STARCH, &C. FAT.
Buckwheat 12.62 2.02 10.02 8.67 64.43 2.24
B. flour 13.52 1.05 6.48 0.28 77.34 1.33
The albuminoids are seen to be only about half as abundant as in wheat
flour. The fiber (bran) is in large quantity and the starchy matter
abounds. As a food buckwheat is less strengthening but somewhat more
fattening than wheat. The popular notion that buckwheat when eaten
regularly will induce a feverish state of the system and eruption of
the skin, is probably well founded. The plant belongs to a family, many
members of which have peculiar medicinal principles, and doubtless there
is some oil or other substance present in the buckwheat that does not
appear in a chemical analysis, though active upon the animal system.
There are very few enemies to the buckwheat plant. So infrequent are the
attacks of insects that the crop is recommended by Professor Riley as a
means of driving insects away from fields. It is a very cleansing crop as
regards weeds also, the rank growth smothering out the various forms of
plant pests that may spring up. The buckwheat field is, of course, not
exempt from the ravages of those insects like locust and army worms, that
devour everything green in their line of march.
OTHER CEREALS.—Small quantities of a number of other cereals have been
and are still cultivated in the United States. There are several millets
grown for forage, but the aggregate amount is only a trifle compared with
the other cereals, and they are not on the increase. One of these millets
is quite extensively grown for the dried branches of the seed-bearing
tops called the “brush,” and is familiar to every housekeeper as brooms,
when attached to long handles. Another variety of the very fertile
species, _Sorghum vulgare_,[6] is the durra or doura grown to some extent
in the Southern States as a forage crop. But it is not our purpose to
discuss the many varieties of plants that have been experimented with or
are grown to only a small extent. Professor Brewer, than whom there is no
better authority, and who has been laid under liberal contribution for
facts in our two papers on the cereals, says: “The established cereals
have been so long cultivated, are so differentiated into varieties, so
adapted to different phases of cultivation, and to various uses to which
man applies them, that it seems probable that the number will not be
materially increased in cultivation, and, moreover, in our agriculture
Indian corn so fills a part which in other countries is occupied by
a number of other plants, either for forage or bread, that it will
doubtless continue to exclude various species whose cultivation is
practiced elsewhere.” If we do the best we can with the six cereals now
grown we will have no cause for distress.
THE CEREALS: BARLEY, OATS, RICE AND BUCKWHEAT.
The cereals furnish the cook materials for many of her most valuable
articles of food. Wholesome, easily prepared, and inexpensive, their
use on the table can not be too strongly commended. Barley is not in
general use among Americans, but the pearled barley ought to form an
indispensable article in every larder. In soups it is excellent. The
stock for barley soup should be made with the greatest care. Into your
soup-kettle—every housewife needs one—put a carefully washed beef bone,
and with it all your scraps of cold meat, trimmings from steaks, and
bones of chickens, turkey and beefsteak. Put your meat into cold, clear
water and for the first half hour allow it but a moderate heat; after
that the pot should be placed on the back of the stove, allowing the
soup to simmer for four or five hours. This low heat extracts all the
juices from the meat, and, this done, the liquor should be strained and
allowed to cool. When ready to use the thick layer of grease which forms
on the top of the stock should be removed, and the vegetables—the more
the better—which are to flavor the soup added. Allow this to simmer until
the vegetables have given up their juices, then strain, and into your
soup put pepper and salt, with a cup and a half of barley, and allow the
whole to come to a boil. Serve hot. Cold and greasy soup is detestable.
To prepare the barley for use it should be soaked for several hours and
cooked until soft over a slow fire.
BEEF WITH BARLEY.—Beef is nice served with barley. A beef roast may be
garnished with barley which has been boiled, and a steak is oftentimes
served in barley. Pieces of cold beef may be warmed over with this cereal
in the following way: Mince into dice the scraps of meat, butter a sauce
pan thoroughly, pour in a little water and add equal quantities of the
minced meat and cold boiled barley. Stir until hot, then pour in two eggs
slightly beaten, and stir until the eggs are cooked; season with salt and
pepper. Cold mutton may be prepared with rice in the same way.
BARLEY FOR THE SICK.—“From the times of Hippocrates[1] and Galen,”[2]
says a writer, “barley drinks have been in high repute in febrile and
inflammatory complaints. They possess mild, soothing qualities, while at
the same time they impart nourishment.” For _barley water_ the following
is a standard recipe: Wash pearled barley in four waters, rub two or
three pieces of sugar on a lemon cut open and put them in a jug with the
washed barley and a few slices of lemon; then pour boiling water over the
whole and cover it until it is cold. _Barley gruel_ is made by boiling
two ounces of the pearled barley in half a pint of water; strain off this
water and put the barley into three pints and a half of salted boiling
water, and let it boil half away, then strain it for use.
OATMEAL.—Of the good qualities of this Scottish favorite, most of us are
aware. “Oatmeal is,” says one authority, “when eaten with milk, a perfect
food, having all the requisites for growing children and the young
generally. Oatmeal requires much cooking to effectually burst its starch
cells, but when it is well cooked it will thicken liquid much more than
equal its weight in wheaten flour. The oats of this country are superior
to those grown on the continent and in the southern parts of England,
but certainly inferior to the Scotch, where considerable pains is taken
to cultivate them; and it is needless to point out that the Scotch are
an example of a strong and robust nation, which result is justly set
down as being derived from the plentiful use of oatmeal. Dr. Guthrie has
asserted that his countrymen have the largest heads of any nation in the
world—not even the English have such large heads—which he attributes
to the universal use of oatmeal.” The almost universal method of using
oatmeal is in porridge, or mush, as we almost always call this excellent
dish. There are two methods of preparing mush: To one quart of boiling
water add one teaspoonful of salt; take a heaping cupful of oatmeal and
sprinkle it slowly in with one hand while it is stirred with the other.
When the meal has been all put in it should not be stirred more than is
necessary to keep it from burning at the bottom. If much stirred the
porridge will be starchy and flavorless. A better porridge may be made
by stirring at night into two pints of salted boiling water half a pint
of oatmeal. Let it boil for two or three minutes, then cover closely and
place on the back of the range where it may simmer until breakfast time.
Oatmeal may also be steamed. _Fried oatmeal_ is a nice breakfast dish.
Take steamed oatmeal when it is cold, cut it in thin slices, and fry
until it is brown in a little lard or butter.
OATMEAL GRUEL.—A valuable item on an invalid’s bill of fare is oatmeal
gruel. “Take two tablespoonfuls of oatmeal, half a blade of mace, a piece
of lemon peel, three gills of milk, and a little sugar. Mix two spoonfuls
of oatmeal until smooth in a little milk, and stir it gradually into the
remainder of the milk; add the lemon peel and blade of mace; set it over
the fire for fifteen minutes, stirring it constantly. Then strain it and
add sugar to taste.”
RICE.—For simply boiling rice we have an excellent “black man’s recipe”
given in one of our favorite cook books by an old sea-captain friend of
ours. Here it is just as it was told the “captain:” “Wash him well; much
wash in cold water; the rice, flour, make him stick; water boil already
very fast; throw him in, rice can’t burn, water shake him too much; boil
quarter of an hour or a little more; rub one rice in thumb and finger;
if all rub away him quite done; put rice in cullender, hot water run
away; pour cup of cold water on him, put back rice in saucepan, keep him
covered near the fire, then rice all ready; eat him up.”
Equally good is rice cooked by steaming. After washing thoroughly, soak
for an hour in warm water, three pints of water to one of rice. Set the
dish containing the rice and water in which it has been soaking into the
steamer and allow it to steam for an hour. It should be salted after put
to steam and stirred frequently. Milk may take the place of part of the
water.
RICE WAFFLES.—Into one and a half pints of flour stir a little salt, and
rub in evenly a piece of butter the size of a walnut, add three beaten
eggs, mixed with half a teacupful of sweet milk, one and a half pints
of boiled rice and half a teacupful of sour milk, with one teaspoonful
of soda; bake immediately in waffle irons. Rice pancakes may be made by
adding an extra half cupful of milk. These pancakes may be served with
jelly. When hot from the griddle spread them with butter and almost any
kind of preserves or jelly; roll them up as you do roll jelly-cake, cut
off the ends, arrange them on a platter, sprinkle sugar over the tops,
and serve immediately.
RICE SERVED WITH MEAT.—Rice may be used as a side dish with any kind of
meat. _Risotto à la Milanaise_[3] is a favorite dish. Put one ounce of
butter into a stew-pan and when hot mix in a quarter of a small onion
minced, cook until it turns yellow; put in a cupful of uncooked rice and
stir it until it has become yellow from the butter and onion; now add a
pint of stock and boil slowly until the rice is tender. The stock should
be nearly all absorbed; before serving add an ounce of grated cheese and
stir for a few moments over the fire without letting it boil. Sprinkle
a little grated cheese over the top. Another very simple side dish is
prepared from rice by mixing a tablespoonful of minced parsley or shives
into a pint of boiled rice. Put an ounce of butter into a sauce pan, heat
it until it becomes a light brown; mix the rice in the butter and serve
as a vegetable.
DESSERTS FROM RICE.—The rice pudding is undoubtedly the standard rice
dessert, but it is only one of numberless wholesome and toothsome dishes
which may be prepared. The simplest form of this pudding and the most
delicious is a simple compound of rice, sugar and milk. To two quarts
of milk add one cupful of rice and one of sugar, a small pinch of salt,
and the desired flavoring. Place the mixture where it will heat very
slowly. When the milk becomes boiling hot place the pudding in a slow
oven and let it bake for an hour. Do not stir after placing in the oven.
A more elaborate pudding is made by dissolving a tablespoonful of corn
starch in three cupfuls of milk; add the yolks of two eggs beaten into
three-quarters of a cupful of sugar. Put this mixture over the fire and
when hot add one cupful of hot boiled rice; stir this until it thickens,
then take it off the fire and add the flavoring. Put it into a pudding
dish and place in the oven until it is slightly brown; remove and spread
over the top the whites of two eggs beaten to a stiff froth and thickened
with a little sugar, return the pudding to the oven for a few minutes
until the frosting is of a delicate brown color.
Among the many other practical and excellent desserts of rice, the
following from Mrs. Henderson’s “Practical Cooking” we know to be good:
RICE CONES.—Mould boiled rice, when hot, into cups which have been
previously dipped in cold water; when cold turn them out on a flat dish;
with a teaspoon scoop out a little of the rice from the top of each cone,
and put in its place any kind of jelly. Any sauce preferred may be served
with it.
RICE CAKE WITH PEACHES.—Cook the rice in a steamer with milk, and when
still hot add a little butter, sugar, and one or two eggs. Butter a plain
pudding mould, strew the butter with bread crumbs and put in a layer of
rice half an inch thick; then a layer of peaches, and continue alternate
layers of each until the mould is full. Bake this for about fifteen or
twenty minutes in an oven; when done turn the cake out of the mould, and
pour into the dish any desired sauce. Other fruits may be used with rice
in the same way.
ORANGE SNOW BALLS.—Boil some rice for ten minutes, drain, and let it
cool. Pare some oranges, taking off all the thick, white skin; spread the
rice in as many portions as there are oranges, on pudding cloths. Tie the
fruit, surrounded by the rice, separately in these and boil the balls for
an hour; turn them carefully on a dish, sprinkle over plenty of sifted
sugar, serve with sauce or sweetened cream.
APPLE SNOW BALLS may be prepared in the same way, the apples being pared
and cored without dividing them.
RICE CROQUETTES.—Soak a half a pound of rice three or four hours in
water; drain and put into a basin with one quart of milk and a little
salt. Set the basin in the steamer and cook until thoroughly done; then
stir in carefully one teacupful of sugar, the yolks of two eggs, a very
little butter and flavoring. When cold enough to handle, form into small
balls; press the thumb into the center of each; insert a little marmalade
or jelly of any kind, and close the rice well over them; roll in beaten
eggs (sweetened a little) and bread crumbs. Fry in boiling hot lard.
RICE FOR THE SICK.—Rice jelly is an excellent food for invalids. It is
made from rice flour, two heaping teaspoonfuls of which are mixed with
water and made into a thin paste. This paste must be stirred into a
cupful of boiling water, and the whole sweetened. It should be boiled
until it is transparent and then put into a mould.
GROUND RICE MILK is prepared by boiling together two tablespoonfuls of
ground rice with a pint of milk. Sweeten it according to taste, adding
the juice of a lemon. Let it boil half an hour over a moderate fire.
PARCHED RICE.—Brown rice as you do coffee. Put into boiling salted water
and cook thoroughly; serve with cream and sugar.
BUCKWHEAT.—Our last cereal, buckwheat, bears the burden of many
complaints. It is called the cause of much of our dyspepsia, and in
many households it has been displaced by corn, rye or flannel cakes. As
usually made buckwheat cakes are heavy, greasy and sour. Great quantities
of butter and syrup are consumed with them to hide the taste of the cake
itself, but when properly made there is little doubt but that they are
as digestible as any warm breakfast cake. An unfailing recipe is the
following, which if a little more troublesome than the usual method,
still is worth the trouble. Add to two quarts of boiling water half a
pint of corn meal, wet with a little cold water; boil until it forms a
thin gruel, to which, when cool, add half a pint of wheat flour, three
pints of buckwheat flour, one gill of yeast, and a little salt. The
imperfect fermentation or rising of the batter causes most of the “heavy”
cakes. To avoid this set your batter thus prepared at noon of the day
before you use them; in the evening beat them well and let them rise in a
cool place until morning. A little soda and a little warm water are the
only additions which will be required before baking for breakfast.
HOME STUDIES IN CHEMISTRY AND PHYSICS.
BY PROF. J. T. EDWARDS, D.D.
Director of the Chautauqua School of Experimental Science.
III.—CHEMISTRY OF AIR.
[Illustration: CARBONIC DI-OXIDE FROM THE LUNGS PASSED INTO LIME WATER
(CAO₂H₂).
EXPERIMENT.—Dissolve some quicklime (CaO₂H₂) in water. Let it settle and
pour off the clean part. Blow your breath into this. What follows, and
why?]
A quaint old book called “The Tin Trumpet” remarks that “three bad
mothers have borne three good daughters.” Long-Suffering begat Patience,
Astrology gave birth to Astronomy, and Chemistry is the daughter of
Alchemy. The facts of science have taken the place of the fancies of the
early investigators. Men used to be attacked, when they entered ravines
and caverns, by supernatural beings, as they supposed, who choked, and
sometimes killed them. In 1754 Joseph Black showed that these fatal
results were due alone to the presence of an invisible gas, which he
called “fixed air,” as he found it locked up in limestone. “Geist,” the
name invented by Van Helmont to represent this strange power, signified
ghost or spirit, so that the “ghosts” of the seventeenth century are the
gases of the nineteenth. The word gas is derived from _geist_.
In studying the history of science we often wonder at the near approach
which men made to truths which remained undiscovered for a long time
after. One finds, all along, intimations of approaching disclosures which
resemble those peculiarities in animals and plants that the geologist
notes in the lower strata of the rocks, as prophesying the development
of future species. The astrologer failed in his attempt to read human
destiny, but he led men forward to the time when, in the stars, they
should read the “thoughts of God.” The alchemist did not succeed in
distilling the “elixir of life,” but he prepared the way for chemists to
make those useful discoveries which have greatly promoted the safety and
comfort of men and extended the period of human life. Some of the most
important investigations in which science is now engaged concern the
character and contents of that all-pervading aërial ocean which surrounds
our earth to the height of from fifty to five hundred miles. Pure air is
one of the great essentials of health and life. How to secure it is a
difficult but beneficent inquiry which the spectroscope, microscope and
chemical analysis may yet answer.
[Illustration: NITRIC ACID DISSOLVING COPPER.
EXPERIMENT.—Place copper in nitric acid. Also try iron and zinc
successively.]
COMPOSITION OF AIR.
Air is a _mixture_, and not a compound. This distinction, as before
intimated, is one of great importance. A cup of coffee is a good
illustration of the former; there we have united water, coffee, cream,
and sugar, but no new substance is thereby produced, and each of these
ingredients may be removed without affecting the others. Gunpowder
is a mixture, being composed of sulphur, nitre, and charcoal—a most
admirable mixture it is, too, for every particle of it contains these
three substances, as may be shown; the sulphur may be removed by heat,
and the nitre by washing, leaving the carbon alone; the microscope also
would reveal in each grain these three substances. That the air is a
mixture can be proven in two ways. First, water will absorb each of its
two principal ingredients, and, secondly, they do not exist in air in
that definite ratio which always characterizes chemical combination.
The principal materials in air are oxygen, nitrogen, carbonic di-oxide,
watery vapor, ammonia, and very minute portions of many other materials.
Professor Steele says, that if the entire atmosphere were compressed to
the density of that immediately surrounding the earth, it would extend
above it only about five miles. Now, if the substances entering into its
composition were to be arranged in the order of their specific gravity,
watery vapor would form a sheet about the earth five inches deep,
carbonic di-oxide another just above it, thirteen feet in depth, then a
layer of oxygen one mile thick, and nitrogen another layer above that,
four miles in thickness.
In short, four-fifths of the air is nitrogen, about one-fifth is oxygen,
four ten-thousandths is carbonic acid, and water exists in variable
quantities. It will be readily seen that the chemical and physical
changes constantly going on in the surface of the earth must be throwing
off other materials into the atmosphere. For example, the spectroscope
has shown that common salt exists almost everywhere in the air. This
arises from the fact that the ocean surrounds all lands, and its yeasty
waves are broken into foam which is caught up by the winds and borne over
the whole earth. One of the most remarkable facts connected with this
subject is the wonderful uniformity of this mixture. Upon the whole, the
amount of each ingredient is nearly the same. Some slight variations,
such as the following, are observable: More CO₂ is found near cities than
in the country, and there is more of the same over the land than over the
sea. That the substances which enter into the composition of air do not
arrange themselves according to weight, is due to a most interesting law
called
THE DIFFUSION OF GASES.
[Illustration: PHOSPHORUS BURNING IN AIR.
EXPERIMENT.—Prepare nitrogen as described elsewhere in this article.]
By this we mean that gases tend to intermingle, the lighter even
descending, and the heavier ascending, until they occupy the same space.
This can be shown in the following manner: Fill one bottle with hydrogen,
and another with carbonic acid gas, fit into each a cork, perforated so
as to admit a tube, connect the two by inserting a tube, placing the
bottle of hydrogen above with the top downward; although the carbonic
acid is twenty-two times heavier than the hydrogen, in an hour or two
it will rise into the bottle above, as can be proved by pouring into it
some lime water, which will immediately become milky, showing that the
carbonic acid has united with the lime, forming calcium carbonate. That
the hydrogen has passed down into the other bottle may be demonstrated
by first absorbing such portions of the carbonic acid as still remain by
pouring in cream of lime, when there will be found still in the bottle
a substance (hydrogen) which will burn with a faint yellowish light.
Another pleasing experiment may be performed in the following manner:
Take an unglazed porcelain cup, fit to it a brass cap, perforated so as
to admit tightly a long glass tube, insert one end of the tube into some
colored water contained in a goblet, the inverted cup being supported
above on the other end of the tube; now hold over the cup a jar filled
with hydrogen; bubbles will soon be seen escaping through the water
from the lower end of the tube, showing that the hydrogen has entered
and mingled with the air; remove the jar, and the liquid will rise in
the tube, proving that the gas has escaped from the cup. This diffusive
force in the atmosphere prevents the accumulation of noxious gases by
distributing them throughout the whole mass. The constant agitation of
the air in gales and storms facilitates this operation, and it is only
in certain confined places like caves, such as the Grotto del Cane,[1]
mines, and wells, that we find apparent exception.
[Illustration: SILVER COIN DISSOLVING IN NITRIC ACID.
EXPERIMENT.—Place a five-cent piece in some nitric acid for two or three
hours. Drop into a portion of the liquid a little salt; you show the
presence of the silver. Drop into another portion some aqua ammonia; the
blue color reports the presence of the copper.]
Lieutenant Maury has said that the atmosphere makes the whole world akin.
The breezes that blow over _our_ land may in turn visit every other,
carrying bane or blessing. Alas! we fear, to-day, that the feverish
breath which poisons the air of Italy may spread its pestilence to our
shores. One lesson we learn from this is, that the misery or prosperity
of any one portion of the earth may affect every other; and that which
benefits a part, contributes in this way a blessing to the whole.
NITROGEN.
In our first article of this series somewhat extended reference was made
to oxygen, and we shall therefore not dwell upon that element at this
time.
Nitrogen, which constitutes by _measure_ 79.04, and by _weight_ 76.8 of
the air, is remarkable for the absence of positive qualities. It is a
colorless, tasteless, odorless gas, will not burn, nor support life or
combustion. Its chief office is that of a diluter. Without it we should
live too fast; even as it is we live too fast! With oxygen alone to
breathe, ours would be a short and fevered existence. All flames and
fires would be kindled into furious combustion, stoves themselves would
burn, and the very “elements melt with fervent heat.”
[Illustration: MERCURY DISSOLVING IN NITRIC ACID.]
We can prepare air artificially, by mixing one part of O with four parts
of N, thoroughly shaking them together. Nitrogen can easily be obtained
in the following manner: Make a small cavity in a piece of cork; line
this by sifting into it a little plaster or crayon dust. Place the cork
on some water in a deep plate. Insert now in the cavity a piece of dry
phosphorus (always handle phosphorus with care), touch the P with a
heated wire, and quickly place over it an inverted jar. White fumes will
instantly rise, which are phosphoric anhydride, P₂O₅. These will be
quickly absorbed by the water, and the water will rise and fill one-fifth
of the jar. It will be necessary to add water as that in the plate rises.
The remaining four-fifths of the jar will be occupied by nitrogen.
The following is an instructive experiment: Take two jars of equal size
(one open at both ends), one of which is fitted with a stopper; fill
one with O and the other with N. Place a smooth glass plate under each
before removing the pneumatic trough, and holding the plates closely
over the top, invert one jar on the other—plate to plate—the jar of O
being below. Now carefully remove the plates, and also the stopper from
the jar of N, and quickly insert a lighted taper with a long snuff. As
it descends through the N it will be extinguished, but as it enters the
O it will be rekindled. This may be repeated many times by raising and
lowering the taper. N does not seem to be strongly attached to anything;
that is, it has but slight affinity for the substances with which it
combines. Strange enough, from this sluggishness results a marvelous
activity. Being held with such little force it is liable at any time to
be liberated in the form of a gas, and the decomposition of the whole
compound of which it formed a part will take place. Hence, instability
is the most marked characteristic of N. It reminds one of some loafer,
without steady occupation or aims, restless, vacillating, but always a
factor in every turbulence or outbreak.
[Illustration: BISMUTH DISSOLVING IN NITRIC ACID.]
Gunpowder, gun-cotton, nitro-glycerine, and dynamite all contain N, and
their explosive character depends largely upon its presence. Nitrogen and
chlorine form a compound, which explodes with such terrific violence that
its manufacture should never be attempted by students.
Nitrogen iodide is another of these dangerous combinations. It can be
made in very small quantities, however, in the form of a black powder,
which may be handled with impunity while it is damp. The touch of a
feather, or a zephyr, will sometimes explode it when dry. It is almost
impossible to keep it; the jar of a foot-fall or slamming of a door is
often sufficient to liberate the unstable nitrogen, and the substance
disappears with a loud report. The tremendous rending force of dynamite
is well known. A small charge in a torpedo will sink a ship. The Greely
Relief Expedition used it to open their way through the arctic ice
fields. Its atoms rush apart with such frightful velocity that if a pound
of it be exploded upon a naked bowlder, of many tons weight, the rock is
shivered into fragments.
COMPOUNDS OF N AND O.
At every breath we take into the lungs a mixture of N and O. The
operation is not only harmless, but essential to life. When, however,
N and O are _compounded_, the resulting substances are very different.
Nitrous oxide (N₂O) forms the well known laughing gas, which breathed,
produces for a time a species of intoxication, and if its inhalation is
continued, results in insensibility. Nitric oxide (NO) when first formed
consists of suffocating red fumes, while nitric acid (HNO₃) is a very
corrosive liquid which will cauterize flesh, and acts with great energy
upon most of the metals. It is sometimes termed aqua fortis, and is much
used in etching upon copper. The surface of the metal plate is covered
with varnish or wax, upon which the design is then traced by a sharp
pointed instrument. The acid is then applied and remains until, in the
judgment of the artist, the impression is deep enough. Any one can easily
etch his name, in this way, on a knife blade, or make a stencil plate
from a thin strip of brass or copper. Silver, copper, mercury, lead,
zinc, iron, bismuth can all be dissolved by nitric acid.
The five compounds of N and O admirably illustrate the laws of atomic
combination. Their symbols are as follows: Nitrogen monoxide, N₂O;
nitric oxide, NO; nitrogen trioxide, N₂O₃; nitrogen peroxide, NO₂;
nitrogen pentoxide, N₂O₅. A careful examination of the weights of
these substances, which may be made by consulting some good chemical
manual, will show that there is an exact ratio of combination, their
proportional weights being respectively as 1¾ to 1, 1¾ to 2, 1¾ to 3, 1¾
to 4, 1¾ to 5. Since atoms can not be divided they must combine atom for
atom, or in multiples. This principle has been more fully stated in the
form of six
LAWS OF COMBINATION.
The first law of weights says that the elements of a given compound
always unite in the same proportions, by weight. The second law is,
that if two or more substances unite to form several compounds, their
highest combining proportions will always be multiples of their lowest
combining weights. The third law announces that the combining weight of
a compound is the sum of the combining proportions of its constituents.
The volumetric laws are as follows: 1, If two or more elements unite to
form a compound, their proportion by volume will always be the same; 2,
if they unite to form a variety of compounds, these proportions will
always be multiples of the lowest combining volumes. 3. The third law
is most curious of all; that the combining volume of a gaseous compound
is always 2. For example, if two elements represented by x and y unite
in proportion of one volume of x to one of y, there would be formed two
volumes of the compound. If there should be two volumes of x and one of
y there would be two volumes of the compound, and if they should unite
three volumes of x and one of y, again there would be but two volumes of
the product. Just why two should be such a favorite number is difficult
to explain. No one can carefully study these interesting laws without
perceiving the necessity for a rare intelligence in arranging all
materials with such mathematical exactness.
How absurd to ascribe to _atoms_ the power to count, to weigh, to
measure, to arrange themselves in orderly combinations which surpass the
most skilful marshaling of battalions on a great battle field. It would
be to make gods of atoms.
AN ALLEGORY—THE FOUR KINGS.
[Illustration: AMMONIA GAS AND CHLOROHYDRIC GAS MEETING IN THE AIR AND
FORMING AMMONIC CHLORIDE.
EXPERIMENT.—Place some ammonia in one glass and chlorohydric acid in the
other. Ammonia gas (NH₃) and chlorohydric gas (HCl) will meet in the air
and form ammonic chloride (NH₄Cl).]
Once upon a time, as the story goes, the King of the Acids, whose name
is Sulphuric, arrogantly walked forth to view his wide domain. He was
sour and fierce. Many conquests had made him boastful, until he thought
himself the mightiest of the earth. Soon he came to where the King of the
Metals, whose name is Gold, sat in royal state, his countenance shining
with wonderful beauty. The haughty monarch of the Acids was angered as he
approached, to see that his rival did not recognize him, nor acknowledge
his power. “I am mightier than thou!” he said, but King Gold smiled
in silent derision. Thereupon the former fiercely attacked him, but
was easily repulsed. The savage aggressor, insane with rage, went away
muttering, “I have two sons who can slay thee!” He instantly commanded
Nitric Acid and Hydrochloric at once to unite in an attack upon his
opponent. Their father gave them a banner on which was inscribed “Aqua
Regia,” which might be translated “King Slayer.” It was indeed too true a
symbol. Alas! before their combined onslaught the royal metal yielded.
The old king now grew more arrogant than ever, and boastfully announced
that his sway knew no limits. One day he discovered, in his walk, one of
a smooth and gentle countenance, yet with an expression indicating that
if aroused he might make biting and caustic replies. It was Potassa,
King of the Alkalies. From hot words, they soon passed to blows, until
in the wild struggle both were slain. Horrible to contemplate, they ate
each other! The spot on which they perished can still be pointed out.
This story is a warning to vaulting ambition, and a tragedy surpassed in
pathos only by the mournful story of the Kilkenny cats![2]
CARBONIC ANHYDRIDE, CO₂.
This substance is also called carbonic di-oxide and carbonic acid
gas. It is the dreaded “choke-damp” of the miner. It Is produced when
carbon unites with O, whether by the decay of vegetation, combustion
of vegetable matter, or the oxidation of the blood. It is so heavy
that it may be poured or dipped out from vessel to vessel, like water.
It extinguishes flame, and is largely employed for that purpose in
contrivances like the Babcock Fire Extinguisher,[3] and the more recent
Fire Grenade.[4] Taken into the stomach in the form of soda water it
is refreshing and beneficial, but its inhalation is always injurious,
and will produce death if breathed in considerable quantity, by causing
asphyxia.[5] A practical problem of great importance is that of
ventilation, as this material is constantly being thrown off from the
lungs, of both animals and men. In the days of ample fire-places, our
homes, if they had less heat had purer air. The railroad car, in point
of comfort, is a marvelous improvement over the ancient stage coach,
but the latter was better in the matter of ventilation. The sleepiness
of congregations should be attributed as much to the foul air as to the
dull preaching. Can not some of our writers on homiletics prepare us a
stirring chapter on the relation of carbonic acid to eloquence?
Homes, school houses, and all public buildings should be supplied in
some way with a gentle and universal circulation of air. Fierce draughts
should by all means be avoided. Ventilation is now generally best secured
by the construction of flues in the wall, which have openings in the
lower and upper portion of the room. The world yet waits to bless the
inventor of a simple and effective system of ventilation which is of
universal application.
OTHER ATMOSPHERES.
As has been suggested, there must be in the air a variable quantity of
other substances beside those named as forming its mass. Ammonia gas
(NH₃) is present, and it is from this material that most of the nitrogen
found in plants is obtained. Water readily absorbs it and conveys it to
the roots. Other elements require only additional heat to volatilize
them. Almost all of the elements of nature have been liquefied; carbonic
acid has been solidified, forming a beautiful white solid, intensely
cold. It is generally accepted as a truth that all substances could be
solidified by the sufficient removal of heat, and it would of course
follow that they could all be vaporized by applying heat enough. In
earlier geologic times many of the materials forming our earth must have
existed as vapor in the heated atmosphere, and the time will come when
our globe will have no atmosphere, no seas, lakes, nor rivers. It will
float in space, cold and desolate like the moon.
The opposite of this condition can be seen to-day in many of the heavenly
bodies. The spectroscope reveals in the sun’s atmosphere gold, iron,
copper, zinc, and many other substances. Vast disturbances are constantly
heaving and tossing these materials, which are intensely heated. The
cyclonic movements are so violent and extensive that the wildest
hurricanes of our earth would seem as zephyrs in comparison.
Hydrogen flames have flared out one hundred thousand miles from its
surface. It has been suggested that the mighty fires in the sun may be
fed by millions of meteoric bodies which are tossed into its raging
heats by the power of gravity. Nothing could withstand such terrible
combustion. Lockyer says that if all of the sun’s heat were concentrated
upon a mass of ice as large as the earth it would melt it in two minutes,
and convert it into vapor in fifteen.
Science has accomplished few things more wonderful than that of crossing
over the vast spaces of the universe, and revealing to us the chemical
composition of the celestial atmospheres.
_End of Required Reading for December._
THE LAUREATE POETS.
BY REV. A. E. WINSHIP.