office to several wires in succession, putting ourselves in circuit
with lines going to various distances and working with different
instruments. When this was done, the real obstacle to telephonic
progress at once asserted itself in the shape of "induction." The first
wire experimented with was partly "overhouse" and partly underground,
and the offices upon it were working Wheatstone A B C instruments. It
is difficult to render clear to the person ignorant of telegraphic
phenomena the idea expressed by the word _induction_. Briefly it may
be put thus, that when a strong electric current is passing on a wire,
it has the faculty of setting up a current of opposite character in
any wire not then working, or working with a feebler current, that may
be in its vicinity. The why or the wherefore cannot be explained, but
there is the fact.
'In various recent articles on the telephone, mention has been made of
"contact" as the cause of disturbance. This word, however, although it
has been used by telegraphists, is misleading, and can only be used
as an endeavour to express popularly an electric fact. Actual contact
of one wire with another would spoil the business altogether. A wire
bearing an electric current seems to be for the time surrounded, to an
undefined distance, by an electric atmosphere, and all wires coming
within this atmosphere have a current in an opposite direction set up
in them. This is as near an explanation of the phenomena of induction
as the state of telegraph science at present affords. Now the telephone
works with a very delicate magnetic current, and is easily overpowered
by the action of a stronger current in any wire near which the
telephone wire may come. To work properly it "requires a silent line."
'In the place where the observations were made, there are a large
number of wires, travelling under the floor, through the test-box,
along passages to the battery-room and to a pole on the outside,
whence they radiate, or out to a pipe underground, where many
gutta-percha-covered wires lie side by side. On applying the ear to a
telephone joined into a circuit working in such an office a curious
sound is heard, comparable most nearly to the sound of a pot boiling.
But the practised ear could soon separate the boiling into distinct
sounds. There was one masterful Morse instrument--probably on the wire
lying nearest the one on which we were joined up--whose peremptory
"click, cli-i-i-ck, click," representing "dot, dash, dot" on the
printed slip we read from, could be heard over all. Then there was the
rapid whir of a Wheatstone fast-speed transmitter, sending dots and
dashes at express speed by mechanical means; the sharp well-pronounced
rattle in sounds of equal length of a needle instrument; and most
curious of all, the "rrrrr-op, rr-op, rrrrrrrrrrrrr-op, rrrrr-op,
rr-op" of the A B C, the deadliest foe to the telephone in its
endeavours to gain admission into the family of telegraph instruments.
There may be reason in this, for as the Wheatstone A B C is the
instrument used for private telegraphy, or for the least important
public offices, because it requires no "code" to be learned by the
manipulator, so it would likely be the first to be displaced if an
acoustic telegraph permanently took the field. So the sentient little
A B C opens its mitrailleuse fire on the intruder, on whose delicate
currents, in the words of an accomplished electrician, it plays "old
harry." The peculiar character of the sounds we borrow on the telephone
from this instrument arises from the fact that as the needle flies
round the dial, a distinct current or pulsation passes for each letter,
and the final "op" we have tried to represent shews the stoppage of the
needle at the letters as words were spelled out.
'It must not be understood that the _sounds_ of those various
instruments are actually heard in the telephone. What happens is, that
the currents stealing along the telephone wire by induction produce
vibrations in the diaphragm of that instrument, the little metal
membrane working on the magnet in ready response to every current set
up in the latter. When it is remembered that the principle of the
telephone is that the sound-caused vibrations in the filmy diaphragm
at one end create similar but magnetically-caused vibrations in the
diaphragm at the other end, and so reproduce the sound, it will be
obvious why the rapid roll of the A B C currents, or the swift sending
of the fast-speed transmitter, when brought by induction into the
telephone wire, cause disturbances in the sound vibrations, and thereby
cripple the instrument. One instrument of either kind named would have
a certain effect, but one Morse or single needle would not have any
greatly prejudicial effect. But a number of Morses or needles going
together, such as were heard in our experiments, would combine to be
nearly as bad as one A B C or fast-speed Morse. So delicate is the
diaphragm to sound (and necessarily so), that in all experiments with
the telephone itself, such as those with "resistance," or those made
at home to test the instrument apart from telegraphic considerations,
every sound from without broke in, giving an effect like the well-known
"murmur of the shell."
'Joining up our wire now to a more distant station at some miles
along the railway, and having on its poles a number of what are known
as "heavy" circuits, the pot-boiling sound assumed even more marked
characteristics. The A B C no longer affected us; but a number of Morse
instruments were in full gear, and the fast-speed transmitter was also
at work. While we were listening, the circuit to which we were joined
began to work, and the effect was literally electrical. Hitherto we had
only borrowed currents--or, seeing they were so unwelcome, we might
call them currents thrust upon us--and the sounds, though sharp and
incessant, were gentle and rather low. But when the strong current was
set up in the wire itself, the listener who held one of our telephones
nearly jumped from the floor when an angry "pit-_pat_, pit-_pat_,
pit-_pat_-pit" assailed his ear, causing him to drop the instrument as
if he had been shot! It was a result none of us had expected, for it
did not seem possible that the delicate metal diaphragm and the little
magnet of the telephone could produce a sound so intense. Of course
it was only intense when the ear was held close to the orifice of the
instrument. Held in the hand away from the ear, the telephone now made
a first-rate "sounder," and we could tell without difficulty not only
the signals that were passing, but found in it a more comfortable tone
than that given by the Morse sounder in common use.
'Other experiments of a like character led to results so similar,
that they may be left unnoticed; and we proceed now to describe one
of a different character, designed to test the telephone itself.
At a distance of about half a mile, access was obtained to a Morse
instrument in private use, and joined to the office by "overhouse"
wire. Dividing our party and arranging a programme of operations, two
remained with a telephone in the office, while other two, of whom the
writer was one, proceeded with the second telephone to the distant
instrument. By an arrangement which a practical telegraphist will
understand, the key of the Morse was kept in circuit, so that signals
could be exchanged in that way. It may be noticed, however, that this
was hardly necessary, as the diaphragm of the telephone can be used as
a key, with the finger or a blunt point, so that dot and dash signals
are interchangeable, should the voice fail to be heard. As the wire in
this instance travelled almost alone over part of its course, we were
in hopes that induced currents would be conspicuous by their absence.
In this we were, however, disappointed, for the pot was boiling away,
rather more faintly, but with the "plop-plop-plop" distinctly audible,
and once more a sharp masterful Morse click was heard coming in now and
again. The deadly A B C was, however, absent, so that our experiment
proved highly successful. For some reason or another--probably an
imperfect condition of the wire, or the effects of "induction" over and
above what made itself audible to us--the spoken sounds were deficient
in distinctness; but songs sung at either end were very beautifully
heard, and indeed the sustained note of sung words had always a better
carrying-power than rapidly spoken words. Every syllable, and every
turn of melody of such a song as _My Mother bids me bind my Hair_, sung
by a lady at one end, or _When the Heart of a Man_, sung at the other,
could be distinctly heard, but with the effect before noticed, that the
voice was muffled or shut in, as if the singer were in a cellar, while
it was not always possible to say at once whether the voice was that of
a man or a woman.
'In the course of some domestic experiments, it was remarked that in
playing the scale downwards from C in alt. on the piano, the result
to the listener was a "tit" only for the four upper notes, although
all below that had a clear "ting," and the octaves below were mostly
distinct, although at the low notes of the piano the sound was again
lost. The ringing notes of a musical box were not so successful, but
with close attention, its rapid execution of _Tommy Dodd_ could be well
enough made out. An endeavour was made to catch the ticking of a watch,
but this was not successful, and the experiment is not recommended,
as the near presence of a watch to a magnet is not desirable; and the
watch exposed to it in this instance was, it is thought, affected for a
short time thereafter, although it received no permanent damage.
'The observations made in the course of these experiments convinced
those present that the telephone presents facilities for the dangerous
practice of "tapping the wires," which may make it useful or dangerous,
according as it is used for proper or improper purposes. It might be
an important addition for a military commander to make to his flying
cavalry; as an expert sound-reader, accompanying a column sent to
cut off the enemy's telegraph connections, might precede the act of
destruction by robbing him of some of his secrets. The rapidity and
simplicity of the means by which a wire could be "milked," without
being cut or put out of circuit, struck the whole of the party engaged
in the various trials that are described above. Of course the process
of tapping by telephone could not be carried out if the instrument in
use was an A B C or single needle, or if the wire was being worked
duplex or with a fast-speed Morse, for in these cases the sounds are
too rapid or too indefinite to be read by ear. The danger is thus
limited to ordinary sounder or Morse telegraphs; but these still form
the mainstay of every public system.
'Since the trials above described were made, the newspapers have
recorded a beautiful application by Sir William Thomson, of the
electric part of the telephone to exhibit at a distance the motions
of an anemometer; the object being to shew the force of air-currents
in coal-mines. This is a useful application of an electric fact, and
doubtless points the way to further discoveries. But it is to be
noticed that the experiment, interesting as it is, hardly comes under
the head of a tele_phone_, what is reproduced at a distance being not
sound but motion.
'Obviously the invention cannot rest where it is; and no one more
readily than the practical telegraphist will welcome an instrument
at once simple, direct, and reliable. Even in its present form the
telephone may be successfully used where its wire is absolutely
_isolated_ from all other telegraph wires. But the general impression
is that its power of reproducing the sound must be intensified before
its use can become general even as a substitute in works or offices for
the speaking-tube.'
SINGING MICE.
These interesting animals are said to be smaller than ordinary mice,
to be usually of a brownish colour, and to have long ears. Naturalists
have not come to any exact reason as to why they sing. Some persons
impute the singing to disease, as in the wheezing of any one from a
cold. Others attribute it to an internal parasite. But these seem
unsatisfactory explanations; for when the little creatures sing they
are as lively as common domestic mice. The faculty of singing in a
small way with various modulations appears to be quite natural to the
animals. It has been noticed that during their musical performances
there is a throbbing in the throat, and that the snout is elevated
in giving play to the voice, as in the warbling of birds. The song
or warble of these mice is said to be sweet and varied. Hitherto not
much attention has been given by zoologists to the phenomenon; but we
observe by various notices in _Land and Water_ and in _Nature_, two
periodicals devoted to pleasant discussions on subjects of natural
history, &c., that singing mice are becoming objects of careful
investigation.
An amusing account of a singing mouse appears in _Nature_, Nov. 9, from
the pen of Mr Joseph Sidebotham, dating from Menton, south of France.
'Last winter we occupied the rooms we now do at Menton. Early in
February we heard as we thought the song of a canary, and fancied it
was outside our balcony; however, we soon discovered that the singing
was in our _salon_, and that the songster was a mouse. At that time the
weather was rather cold, and we had a little fire, and the mouse spent
most of the day under the fender, where we kept it supplied with bits
of biscuit. In a few days it became quite tame, and would come on the
hearth in an evening and sing for several hours. Sometimes it would
climb up the chiffonier and ascend a vase of flowers to drink at the
water, and then sit and sing on the edge of the table and allow us to
go quite near to it without ceasing its warble. One of its favourite
haunts was the wood-basket, and it would often sit and sing on the
edge of it. On February 12, the last night of the Carnival, we had
a number of friends in our _salon_, and the little mouse sang most
vigorously, much to their delight and astonishment, and was not in the
least disturbed by the talking. In the evening the mouse would often
run about the room and under the door into the corridor and adjoining
rooms, and then return to its own hearth. After amusing us for nearly
a month, it disappeared; and we suspect it was caught in a trap set in
one of the rooms beyond. The mouse was small and had very large ears,
which it moved about much whilst singing. The song was not unlike that
of the canary in many of its trills, and it sang quite as beautifully
as any canary, but it had more variety, and some of its notes were
much lower, more like those of the bullfinch. One great peculiarity
was a sort of double song, which we had now and then--an air with an
accompaniment. The air was loud and full, the notes being low and the
accompaniment quite subdued. Some of our party were sure that there was
more than one mouse, until we had the performance from the edge of the
wood-basket and were within a yard or two of it. My son has suggested
that many or all mice may have the same power, but that the notes are
usually so much higher in the scale that, like the cry of the dormouse
and the bat, they are at the verge of the pitch to which the human ear
is sensitive. This may be so; but the notes of our mouse were so low,
and even the highest so far within the limits of the human ear, that I
am inclined to think the gift of singing in mice is but of very rare
occurrence.'
In the same periodical, the following additional particulars as regards
singing mice are presented by Mr George J. Romanes, Regent's Park.
'Several years ago I received some of these animals from a friend, and
kept them in confinement for one or two months. The description which
your correspondent gives of their performance leaves very little to
be added by me, as in all respects this description agrees perfectly
with my own observations. I write, however, to remark one curious
fact about the singing of these mice, namely, that it seemed to be
evoked by two very opposite sets of conditions. When undisturbed, the
little animals used for the most part to remain quiet during the day,
and begin to sing at night; but if at any time they were alarmed, by
handling them or otherwise, whether during the day or night, they were
sure to sing vigorously. Thus the action seemed to be occasioned either
by contentment or by fear. The character of the song, however, was
slightly different in the two cases.
'That these mice did not learn this art from singing birds there can
be no doubt, for they were captured in a house where no such birds
were kept. It may be worth while to add that this house (a London one)
seemed to have been suddenly invaded, so to speak, by a number of these
animals, for although my friend has lived in this house since the year
1862, it was only during a few months that singing mice were heard
in it, and during these few months they were heard in considerable
numbers.'
As corroborative of the foregoing notices, we give the following very
interesting account of a singing mouse, obligingly sent to us by a
correspondent, Mr Alfred Wright.
'In the early spring of last year I was invited by an old widow lady
to see a singing mouse, which she had at night heard singing and
scratching beneath the floor of her bed, and been so fortunate as to
catch in a trap. I went, and found the little animal in a cage with
a revolving wheel, similar to that in which a squirrel is usually
confined. Whether the mouse was shy at the presence of a stranger, I
do not know. It remained silent; but at length, after my patience had
been nearly exhausted, it began to sing in clear warbling notes like
those of a bird. When I called the next evening to hear the mouse
again, I heard him to perfection; and was so filled with interest in
the novelty, that I begged permission to bring any friend who was
a sceptic of the fact, or who might desire to see the phenomenon.
My request was readily granted. One friend of course had heard of
a singing mouse, but he certainly would not allow that a prolonged
squeak was a song--not he! Another friend of course had heard a mouse
sing when he was a boy; but he was told, he perfectly well remembered,
that the _noise_ produced by the mouse was the result of some internal
disease. Well, both of these went with me to hear the little creature.
Unfortunately, at first it was again shy; but after an interval of
silence it commenced to sing--sweetly, like the low notes, the jug, of
the nightingale. My friends had come, had heard, and were conquered!
The one acknowledged it was really a song and not a squeak; the other,
that the noise was certainly dulcet; but still he thought it possibly
might be the result of disease, and not natural to the little animal.
We suggested that this wonderful natural curiosity (as we deemed it)
should be sent to an eminent naturalist who resided near. Great,
therefore, was my astonishment and pleasure when it was presented to
me, who could only treat it like a schoolboy would his white mouse--as
a pet. And truly it became a great pet to both my wife and myself.
'In form, the singing mouse did not differ from his humbler brethren;
but in colour he was of a darkish brown, and had very bright eyes. It
soon became used to the presence of my wife, and sang constantly while
revolving the wheel of his cage. The notes proceeded from the throat.
He became exceedingly gentle, and was pleased at being caressed.
'I deemed him so rare a curiosity that I ventured to offer to exhibit
him to the distinguished naturalist referred to above, and in my letter
described the little creature and its peculiarities, as I have done
here. The naturalist most courteously replied: "The case of the singing
mouse is very extraordinary, but the fact is now well established....
The best account which has ever been published is by an American
naturalist, and I have given an abstract of his account in my _Descent
of Man_.
"The American referred to is the Rev. S. Lockwood, author of _The
American Naturalist_, and he gives an account of his observations of
the _Hesperomys cognatus_, an American species, belonging to a genus
distinct from that of the English mouse. This little animal gave two
chief songs. Mr Lockwood gives both songs in musical notation; and
adds, that though this mouse 'had no ear for time,' yet she would keep
to the key of B (two flats) and strictly in the major key.... Her soft
clear voice falls an octave with all the precision possible; then at
the wind up it rises again into a very quick trill in C sharp and D."
I have made this quotation, as it far better describes the peculiar
qualifications of a singing mouse, than my inexperienced observations
could announce.
'My mouse remained in contented confinement upwards of a year, feeding
upon a little sopped bread and canary-seed; and great was the grief of
my wife (who was his keeper) and myself when he was found dead in his
little nest. During the previous evening he had been heard singing with
more than usual ardour.'
We shall probably return to this interesting subject.
USING UP WASTE SUBSTANCES.
The subject denoted by the above title, more than once treated in the
_Journal_, is adverted to by an obliging Lancashire correspondent
who, surrounded by one of the busiest and most ingenious clusters
of townsmen in England, has had his attention drawn to various
substances waiting (as it were), for application to useful purposes.
His suggestions are not wholly new, having to some extent been already
anticipated; but they are sufficiently valuable to call for notice here.
One relates to the waste that presents itself in the processes of
manufacturing cotton. A residue known technically as _willowings_,
that falls into a receptacle during the preparatory beating and
disentangling of raw cotton-wool, consists of a dusty heap of
seed-husks and short broken fibres. It is used by farmers to absorb the
liquid manure of their cowsheds and middens or dung-heaps. Although
some of the cottony fibre may be separated through a sieve, so much
adheres to the seed-husk as to render it unsuitable for paper-making,
for which it has often been tried. The suggestion now made is, that
though unfitted for paper, this refuse may possibly be found useful
in the manufacture of _millboard_. Large quantities of this tough and
durable product are employed for bookbinding, for making the discs of
railway wheels, &c.; and as colour is not a matter of moment, the idea
is that the mingled residue of cottony fibre and seed-husk might be
rendered available. It is known that millboard made from wood-pulp is
imported to a considerable extent from abroad; and we are told that
'a large portion of the private income of the great German Chancellor
Prince Bismarck is derived from the manufacture of wood-millboard on
his Varzin estate.' Many hundred tons of willowings could be obtained
in Lancashire at a very cheap rate, even as low as two shillings per
hundredweight.
Another suggestion bears relation to the utilisation of refuse from
the manufacture of prussiate of potash, a most valuable product in
the hands of the manufacturing chemist. The prussiate is obtained in
large ratio from woollen rags, after the separation of all the pieces
that can be worked up into shoddy for cheap cloth. The refuse is
calcined in cast-iron retorts, lixiviated with water, and drained off
for subsequent treatment: leaving behind it a thick black sediment of
impure animal charcoal. The suggestion relates to the application of
this residue to the manufacture of blacking--a humble but valuable
agent for those who appreciate tidiness in the appearance of boots and
shoes and economy in the preservation of leather. If useful for this
purpose, it might be found advantageous and economical as an ingredient
in printers' ink. Whether this carbon residue is at present applied to
any other useful purpose, we are not fully informed.
A third suggestion relates to the preparation of animal size for the
carpet-manufacture and for that of many kinds of woollen and worsted
goods. This size is made from the clippings and scrapings of skins
and hides, from rejected scraps of parchment and vellum, and from
the worn-out buffalo skin pickers and skips largely used in textile
manufactures; also from the pith of cattle-horns, which contain a large
amount of valuable gelatine. The suggestion is, to utilise the refuse
left after making this size. One large carpet factory in Yorkshire
rejects as utterly useless a ton or more of this refuse every week.
The horn-pith contains as one of its components phosphate of lime, and
is on that account recommended to the notice of the manufacturers of
chemical manures on a large scale.