August _was_ rather a troublesome boy. Generous and jolly,--his playmates
called him a firstrate good fellow, but older people complained that he
was curious, meddlesome, and always "cluttering round."
But here is mamma's opinion:
"August was born to be busy. He is inventive too. He asks questions to
gain information, and he handles things to see how they are made."
"What is he tinkering at now, mamma?" asked Tom. "He has got hold of an
old, old book, full of _f ss_, and all yellow; he's rigged two pans in a
barrel, and bought a naptha lamp, and locked us all out of the attic."
"And he just came in with a covered basket, mamma," said Katie, "carrying
it ever so carefully. I was jumping rope in the hall, and he asked me not
to joggle. What do you suppose he was doing, mamma?"
"Suppose we wait till he tells us," said mamma, smiling.
"He's only trying some of his 'speriments," said wise little Robbie, aged
five.
After the children went out, mamma took up her work and sat down by the
window, watching the three outside, and waiting for her oldest boy,
August, who presently came to take her into his confidence.
"Mamma, I am trying an experiment."
"And is that something new, August?" with an encouraging smile.
"But the _kind_ is new, mamma. Did you ever hear of Réaumur?"
"Who wrote that curious old book on the art of hatching fowls by
artificial incubation? Yes, August."
"Then will you come and see, mamma, what _I_ have begun to do?"
He led the way, two steps at a time, to the attic. When they reached the
door, August drew from his pocket a key, and unlocked it and led his
mother in.
A flour-barrel stood in the centre of the floor, closely covered. August
removed the cover, and lifted up a piece of carpet. His mother looked in.
Within the barrel was suspended a large, deep pan, resting on three iron
cleats. This pan was partly filled with hot water, and floating on the
water was another pan--a shallow one--which contained a layer of sand an
inch deep. Over this was spread a piece of linen cloth, and in the cloth
thirty-six large Brahma eggs lay closely packed. In the center stood a
neat thermometer.
[Illustration: THE INCUBATOR.]
"You have made your arrangements very neatly, August," said mamma. "Of
course I do not understand them exactly."
"Well, you see, mamma, this shallow pan gets its heat from the water
beneath it. I put that in hot, and keep it just right with this lamp."
Saying which, he knelt in front of the barrel, and opened a neat little
door, fitted with a brass knob and hinges.
Stooping down and looking in, his mother saw on a tall flower-pot, which
stood upside down, a naptha safety-lamp sending forth a small, steady
flame.
"That keeps the temperature about equable;" said August, "but I have
another lamp, larger than this, to use in case my incubator grows too
cool."
"When did you set them?" asked mamma.
"This morning."
"To-day is the first of March: then if no accident happens, and the eggs
are good, you expect them to hatch on the twenty-first?"
"Yes, mamma, and the eggs are all right because I told Grandma I wanted
some _very_ fresh, and she saved them for me."
"Did Grandma know of your experiment?"
"Oh! no, mamma. Not a soul but you knows about it; and I want you to keep
the secret until we know how it will turn out."
"Very well!" said mamma; "but if you lock the door you had better leave
the key with me in case anything should happen. I will look at your
incubator occasionally while you are at school."
August gave his mother a grateful look--he felt so encouraged by her
sympathy.
"How warm do you keep the eggs?" she asked as he carefully replaced the
carpet and cover.
"Réaumur says at 32°, that is about 103 1-2 Fahrenheit.[A]"
"Must the eggs be kept at that temperature all the time?"
"No, only through the first week. The second it is a little less and the
third still less."
"There is the luncheon-bell, dear; we must go down or the children will
be trooping up here. I hope, my boy, that you will succeed."
"If I don't I shall try again," said August. Then, taking a final look to
see that the thermometer and lamp were all right, he locked the room and
they went down.
He paid several visits to the attic during the day and evening, finding
on each occasion that all worked well and steadily. Before going to bed
he refilled the lamp, so the supply of naptha shouldn't be exhausted;
then he went to sleep and dreamed all night of eggs and chickens.
In the morning he was up and at his incubator before any one else was
stirring. The thermometer indicated that the eggs were a trifle cool, so
he turned up the wick of the lamp. Before going to church he turned the
eggs. This he did twice daily, being careful not to jar them. The
incubator worked well all day and all night.
The next day was Monday and he had his school duties to attend to. He
left everything in good order, took the attic key to his mother, and went
off to school full of confidence.
Alas! When mamma went up at ten o'clock, she could scarcely see across
the room. Everything was black with soot. The naptha lamp was smoking
fiercely.
The first thing was to get the window open, and put out the lamp. Then
mamma looked at the eggs. Alas, again! There they lay covered with fine
black soot. She took up one and tried to wipe it, but succeeded only in
making a smirch which she could not wipe off. She knew then that the eggs
were spoiled.
In the midst of it all August came in from school having been dismissed
early. Poor August! He could scarcely keep the tears back.
"Well, August," said his mamma very practically, "I don't think a naptha
lamp just the thing. They are very apt to smoke, and they are very
inflammable."
"Yes," said August, trying to be cheerful. "Failure the first! I shall
try it again. Grandma will give me some more eggs. I've only lost three
days."
"And _I_ will go to town this afternoon," said his mother, "and see if I
cannot find a lamp which will be more reliable."
There was no school that afternoon, so August cleaned the room, and
supplied the incubator with fresh eggs, greatly encouraged by his
mother's sympathy and interest.
The other children were curious enough to know what was going on in the
attic; but they could get no information.
Toward evening Mrs. Grant returned from town, bringing for her little boy
a large tin lamp which would burn kerosene. He lighted it and adjusted
the wick to just the right height. Then it was placed within the barrel
to warm the second setting of eggs.
Day after day August and his mother watched and tended them. Everything
progressed finely.
On the next Monday the eggs, having been in the incubator a week, were
far enough advanced to be tested. At a south window there hung a heavy
green Holland curtain. In this mamma allowed August to cut a hole, a
little smaller than an egg, and she herself staid to assist him.
When all was ready, she handed August the eggs one by one. One by one he
held them to the aperture. The first seemed quite transparent. In vain
August turned and turned it--there was nothing to be seen but the yolk
floating at the top. With a sigh he laid that aside and took up another.
"O, mamma, look!" he cried excitedly.
Mrs. Grant examined it with great interest. Not only could she distinctly
see the dark form of a little chick, particularly the head with its
immense eye, but bright blood-veins were also plainly defined, branching
out in all directions from the body. Another and still another of the
eggs looked like this one. August was greatly excited.
"They are lively enough!" he said. "See, mamma, this one moves, and
this!"
Then came one that was dark and shaky. "Addled," pronounced August. After
this a number more appeared as promising as the former ones.
Finally all were tested. They were pleased enough with the result. Three
were clear--that meant there were no chickens within the shells; one was
addled; and thirty-two contained live chicks.
August was so wild over this discovery that his hands grew unsteady, and
he unfortunately dropped two of the eggs and broke them. This left him
but thirty likely to hatch; but these were all very promising.
"I am sure we will succeed now, mamma," cried August gaily.
"It looks like it, certainly," said mamma.
But alas for poor August's bright hopes! and alas for the expected
chickens! Whether August was too confident and grew careless, or whether
it was one of those unforeseen accidents that _will_ happen, will never
be known; but this is certain, that the next morning when August went,
later than usual, to look at his incubator, he found the thermometer had
gone up to 110 and must have been at that temperature some time, for in
egg after egg, which he opened in despair, was a poor little dead chick.
Even if a boy is fourteen years old, he cannot help crying sometimes over
a great disappointment.
Poor August put out his lamp with sorrowful breath and some of his tears
fell upon the hot chimney which hissed as if in mockery.
Then he locked himself in his own room, threw himself on the bed, refused
his breakfast and gave way to his grief.
Tom, Katie and Robbie all tried to get at him, but without avail. Katie
coaxed with loving words. Robbie murmured, "Poor Gussie!" Tom said "Never
mind, old fellow, if your 'speriment has failed. Come and play ball."
August's reply was not very polite.
"My experiment hasn't failed, and that is all you know about it, Tom!"
But the word "fail" seemed to rouse him, to restore his courage; for
presently unlocking the door and coming out, he said quietly to himself,
"I shall just go down to Grandma's for some more eggs--that's what I
shall do!"
Grandma was curious to know what he did with so many eggs; but she asked
no questions. She had great respect for August and his 'speriments.
She only said, "This makes one hundred and eight eggs, child. Now, if I
had set all these, and if they had all hatched, what a lot of little
chickens I would have had!"
"Ah!" thought August. "If!--" And he drew a long sigh.
Mamma, meanwhile, had been up to the attic to look at the incubator,
knowing nothing of what had happened. Great was her amazement to find the
lamp out, a basin full of broken eggs and little dead chicks, and the
incubator itself deserted and empty.
"Why, August!" she cried, as she met him in the door with a basket of
fresh eggs. "What has happened, dear child?"
"Only failure number two;" he answered, trying to speak cheerfully,
though even yet the tears lay high. "They got too hot in the night,
mamma."
"Yet you are not quite discouraged?" said mamma.
August held out his basket with a smile.
So once more the incubator was set.
"We must take more pains this time," said mamma.
"Yes'm," answered August, "I'll try not to let any thing happen to
these."
Things did work more smoothly this time. The temperature was kept about
right, the eggs were tested successfully and without accident.
One week, two weeks, two weeks and a half, and then things happened
again, things which came near being serious enough. It was Saturday
afternoon. August was going with the other children to a circus. He had
turned the eggs carefully and sprinkled them lightly with warm water. He
had admitted the children into his secret, and they were all in the room
waiting for him.
"These eggs are a little cool," said August, putting one up to his cheek.
"I must leave them just right, I think I will fill the lamp and turn it
up a little. Tommy, will you take the lamp out?"
Down on his knees Tommy went, and drew out the lamp which he set on the
floor. Then, kneeling still above it, he blew hard, directly down the
chimney.
"PUFF! BANG! _Crack!_" went something, causing August, Katie and Robbie
to start violently, while poor Tommy, with his hands to his eyes, rolled
over on the floor with a groan.
"Mamma, oh! mamma!" screamed Katie, "the lamp is 'sploded!"
"And Tommy's killed!" shrieked Robbie.
Mamma flew up the stairs and to Tommy.
"Oh! his eyes!" she cried. "Quick, August, water!"
"Oh! my poor Tommy!" sobbed little Robbie. "See him all b'eedin',
b'eedin'!"
August came running with the water, and knelt down and held the basin
while Katie flew for a sponge and soft linen.
When the blood was washed off, and his smarting eyes had been bathed with
fresh, cool water, Tommy discovered that he had been more frightened than
hurt; and mamma and the rest were greatly relieved to find his worst
wound, a slight cut between the eyes, could be cured by court-plaster.
It was a great wonder, however, that more harm had not been done; for
when the child blew so forcibly down the chimney, the wick shot up out of
the lamp and the chimney shivered in pieces; one of the pieces had struck
his face, making the cut, while the hot air and smoke flashing into his
eyes caused them to smart fiercely. August had neglected to fill the lamp
at the proper time, and the oil had burned nearly out. It was the sudden
forcing of air down the tube which caused the explosion.
"I thought you said 'twas a safety lamp!" said Katie indignantly.
"'Tisn't half so good as our un-safety ones;" declared Robbie.
"It's never safe to blow directly down upon a full flame in any lamp,"
said mamma. "The wick should always be turned down first and the flame
gently blown."
"Accident the third;" said August ruefully. "Mamma, do you feel like
trusting me any farther?"