ARTIFICIAL WARMTH.--RING AND STAPLE.--THE FAN.
Various Modes of warming Houses.--The Fire of the American Indian
and the Kafir.--The Oil-lamp of the Esquimaux.--The open Fireplace
and Chimney Stoves.--The laminated Stove and its Powers.--Gills of
the Lobster, Crab, and various Fishes.--Mode in which the Gills
act.--Why Fishes lie with their Heads against the Stream.--Drowning
a Fish.--The Ring and Staple, and their various Uses.--Head-bones
of the Fishing-frog or Angler-fish.--The Fan and its
Modifications.--Japanese and Chinese Fans.--The Feather Fan.--The
Palm-leaf.--Indian Fans.--The Hive Bee and its Wings.--Fans of the
Essequibo and South Sea Islanders.--The Fan Fire-guard.--Antennæ of
the Cockchafer.--Burial.--Various Modes of disposing of the
Dead.--Ordinary Habits of dying Animals.--Dead Insects.--The
Funeral-ant and its wonderful Habits.
ARTIFICIAL WARMTH.
Passing from the direct to the indirect comforts of a household, we will
take Artificial Warmth.
The savage, as a matter of necessity, makes a fire in the middle of his
hut, and lets the smoke have its own way. Sometimes, as is the case with
the North American Indians, the top of the conical hut is open, and the
whole edifice is a single chimney of large dimensions, something like
the “chimney-corner” of past days, which only survives in such places as
the New Forest.
Then there are the various Kafir tribes of Southern Africa. They have no
aperture in their huts except the tiny doorway, which can only be
entered on hands and knees. But they must have their fire. No argument
can persuade them that they had better make their fire and cook their
food outside the hut. So the wood-smoke fills the hut, coats it with a
lining of soot, and gets out as it can through the sticks and withes of
which the simple edifice is built.
As a contrast, we have the oil-lamp of Esquimaux-land, where there is no
provision for ventilation, where the snow-houses are tightly closed and
crammed with inhabitants, and where no one seems to need fresh air.
The next step in civilisation is to construct a tube for the purpose of
carrying off the smoke, such as we know by the name of chimney or flue,
and to place the fire within it. We English people have an ingrained
love for the open fireplace, and though it really is an expensive
arrangement, it is worth the cost. Granting that it carries much of the
heat into the chimney instead of throwing it into the room, it has at
least the advantage of acting as a ventilator, of ejecting air which has
been rendered poisonous by respiration, and drawing a fresh supply from
the outer atmosphere.
In some parts of the world, especially in Germany and the United States,
the place of the open fire is taken by closed stoves, without any
ventilation whatever, much to the discomfiture of ordinary Englishmen.
Still, there are buildings, such as public halls and places of worship,
in which open fireplaces are wholly impracticable, and where it is,
therefore, necessary to make use of the stove.
It need hardly be said that in such cases the chief object is to procure
the greatest amount of heat with the least expenditure of fuel, and that
object seems to be best attained by the Laminated Stove shown on the
right hand of the illustration.
[Illustration: GILLS OF SHARK.]
[Illustration: GILLS OF TROUT.]
[Illustration: STOVE.]
In this stove, the outer surface, instead of being plain, is divided
into a number of perpendicular plates, which are heated by the
contained fire, and expose a very large surface of hot metal to the air.
Thus the heat, instead of being wasted by being drawn through the flue
or chimney, is thrown into the room, and keeps up a perpetual supply of
warm air.
* * * * *
THAT the invention of this stove is an ingenious one nobody can deny.
But Nature has been long in advance of Art in the way of exposing as
large a surface as possible with the least expenditure of space.
Very familiar examples of this structure may be found in the many
creatures which inhabit the waters and breathe by means of gills, which
extract the oxygen of the water.
Take, for example, a Lobster or a Crab, open it, and look at the white,
pointed, uneatable objects which are popularly called “ladies’ fingers.”
These are the gills, or breathing apparatus, and their structure is
really wonderful. They are composed of innumerable laminæ, or very thin
plates, covered with an exceedingly fine membrane, and placed closely
side by side, but with sufficient distance between them to allow the
water to percolate the whole structure.
With the aid of an ordinary pocket lens the observer may make out a most
wonderful system of blood-vessels, which permeate every one of the
myriad laminæ, and which extract the life-giving oxygen from the water
as it passes between them.
Then, to pass to animals of a higher order, take the gills of fishes.
Any fish will do, provided that it be fresh, and, if it can be examined
immediately after death, so much the better. Taking things reciprocally,
the gills of the fish and the laminæ of the stove, are identical in
principle, namely, the exposure of much surface with little loss of
space.
If possible, the observer should inject the blood-vessels of the gills
with the conventional crimson and blue wax, showing the currents of the
arterial and venous blood. Each lamina forms a most wondrous object, and
may be gazed upon for weeks with increasing admiration.
Every one who has watched the habits of fishes must have noticed that in
running waters they always have their heads against the stream, and do
not greatly care about shifting their positions.
In still waters, especially such as those of the ordinary glass
aquaria, the fish are perpetually on the move, whereas in such a river
as the Dove of Derbyshire, and even the Darenth of Kent, large trout may
be seen almost motionless, but invariably with their heads directed up
the stream.
The reason is evident enough. As long as the fish lies with its head up
the stream the water flows through its gills, and enables it to breathe.
Were the passage of the water stopped, the fish would be drowned.
Consequently, all good anglers, when they hook a fish which is worth
taking, keep its head down the stream, prevent the water from washing
over its gills, and consequently render it so weak by deprivation of
oxygen, that it becomes an easy prey, and is rendered subservient to a
line of a single hair. Let the fish breathe, and a single struggle would
smash a line of treble the strength. But keep it from breathing by
directing its head down the stream, and it rapidly loses all strength,
and can be directed into the landing-net, or brought within the scope of
the gaff, without a chance of escape.
* * * * *
I NEED hardly remark that on the right-hand side of the illustration is
shown a Laminated Stove, and that on the left are drawings of the gills
of the Shark tribe and the common Trout. If the reader would really like
to look into the subject for himself, I should suggest the purchase of a
cod’s head and shoulders and a lobster. The breathing apparatus can be
removed from each for examination, and the remainder will serve as a
first course for dinner.
RING AND STAPLE.
Humble, and apparently insignificant, as the principle of the Ring and
Staple may be, we owe no small amount of our domestic comfort to it. It
meets us in all kinds of ways, in the hinges of our boxes, in the
padlocks of our doors, in the innside fastenings for our horses, in the
seaside fastenings for ships’ cables, and in a thousand other ways too
many to enumerate.
* * * * *
ON the right-hand side of the next illustration is shown the Ring and
Staple as used for the purpose of mooring ships and boats, it being
absolutely necessary that the machinery, simple as it is, must be
capable of working in any direction, and with some latitude as to the
extent.
[Illustration: HEAD-BONES OF ANGLER-FISH.]
[Illustration: STAPLE AND RING.]
On the left hand are shown two of the wonderful bones which are found in
the head of the Fishing-frog or Angler-fish (_Lophius_), and which serve
as decoys, by means of which the smaller fish are entrapped into the
vast jaws of the Angler-fish.
It is clearly necessary that these singular appendages should be capable
of movement in every direction, and this object is attained by the
structure which is here shown, and which is almost equal to the
ball-and-socket joint for its freedom of movement. It will even allow of
partial rotation, so as to cause the little strip of skin at its end to
assume the aspect of a living worm, and entice the smaller fish into the
jaws of the dread trap that lies open before them.
A figure of this fish may be seen on page 92.
THE FAN.
Except in permanently cold countries, a Fan of some kind seems to be an
absolute necessity. Sometimes, as in the greater part of Europe, it is
used only by the softer sex. The harder sex would often be only too glad
to use it if they dared, and the same observation is equally true with
regard to the parasol.
But, in such lands as Japan and China, the Fan is an absolute necessity
of existence. Men, women, and children alike carry their Fan, and almost
perpetually use it. I remember, when the troupe of Japanese acrobats
were in England, that one of them exhibited the national use of the Fan
in an excessively ludicrous manner.
One of his comrades ascended to the roof of a lofty building, hung by
his legs to one of the rafters, and held in his hands a bamboo pole
which was twenty feet long. Another Japanese also ascended, climbed over
his comrade, and settled on the bamboo pole, to which he clung only by
the clasp of his bare feet. Suddenly he slipped down the pole, stopped
himself when within a few inches of the end, squatted there with perfect
unconcern, though at least forty feet from the ground, took his fan from
the back of his neck, and fanned himself while gravely surveying the
startled audience.
[Illustration: PALM-LEAF.]
[Illustration: JAPANESE HAND-SCREEN.]
Perhaps some of my readers may remember Chang, the Chinese giant, who,
by the way, in private life was a polished gentleman. He was never
without his fan, always keeping it fluttering gently with an ease only
to be acquired by a lifelong practice, and I really think that if he had
been deprived of it he would have been seriously ill. How he slept
without it is a wonder, for in his own house the fan was incessantly in
motion, and was worked with apparent unconsciousness on his part.
I have often wished that in our country the ladies would manage their
fans in the same quiet way when they are in a church or a concert-room,
for the perpetual rattle of the joints is enough to distract any
preacher or conductor, and very often does so.
As to the shape of the Fan, it varies greatly according to the country,
but it may almost invariably be traced to some familiar object.
There is, for example, the common Japanese Fan or Screen, which is
avowedly made on the model of the Palm-leaf, the ribs of the leaf being
represented by split portions of a bamboo stem. The right-hand figure in
the preceding illustration is taken from one of the common sixpenny
Japanese fans that may be seen in many shop-windows.
There are exactly sixty ribs in the fan, all produced by splitting the
bamboo into strips, kept in their place by a slight rod of the same
material, and covered with two pieces of thin printed paper. Seeing that
the original cost cannot be more than a penny, it is wonderful how such
articles can be produced, and give a living to the makers.
The reader will observe that the shape of the Japanese Fan is almost
exactly that of the Palm-leaf, with the exception of the jagged edges,
and a better pattern could not be found. Then there are many Indian Fans
framed on the same model, but which revolve on their handles, and are
swung slowly round and round by the servants before the guests, and thus
become miniature punkahs.
Here, again, we may find a parallel in Nature. The common hive bee
ventilates its dwelling by using its wings in lieu of fans. When the
hive is really in want of fresh air, the bees set to work, and wave
their wings backwards and forwards for a considerable time, so that they
necessarily expel the foul air from the interior of the hive, and create
a partial vacuum, which can only be filled by fresh air from without.
Fans of very similar shape are in use among the South Sea Islanders and
the inhabitants of the Essequibo district. They are often used as
bellows when a fire has to be raised, but their primary object is to be
employed as fans.
* * * * *
NEXT we come to those fans which are made of flattened sticks, which
move on a pivot. This is, indeed, the ordinary form of the fan at the
present day, the sticks being sometimes wide enough to constitute the
entire fan, but mostly being connected with a sort of lining made with
silk, paper, or feathers. Such fans as these can be moved on their
pivots, so as to occupy a comparatively small space; and the same can
be said of the modern fender-guards, which can be folded up when the
room is unoccupied, and which form an effectual protection against the
danger of ladies’ dresses coming in contact with the fire.
Examples of such a screen, and two fans, are given on the right hand of
the accompanying illustration.
[Illustration: ANTENNA OF COCKCHAFER.]
[Illustration:
IVORY FAN. FEATHER FAN.
FIRE-GUARD.]
On the left hand is shown one of the natural objects from which the
fans, &c., might well have derived their origin. It is one of the
antennæ--or horns, as they are popularly called--of the common
Cockchafer. The end of this antenna is composed of a number of flat
plates, which work on a pivot exactly like the sticks of a fan, and,
like those sticks, can be folded into a wonderfully small compass, or
opened out into a fan-like shape.
BURIAL.
Last scene of all.
I do not think that it matters very much to one who has “shuffled off
this mortal coil” what becomes of the coil in which he had been
imprisoned. Whether the abandoned body be buried in the earth, or sunk
in the sea, or devoured by wild beasts, or consumed by fire, signifies
nothing to him, though it may signify much to his surviving friends.
As a rule, the animals, of whatever kind they may be, contrive to
dispose of their mortal remains in some mysterious manner, so that not
a vestige of them is to be found. Take, for example, the domestic cat,
and see how few bodies are found of cats which have died natural deaths.
For instance, there was my own cat “Pret,” who lost his life from the
bites of rats. He was blind, and so lamed that he could scarcely crawl.
Yet, on the day of his death, he three times escaped from his
comfortable bed in front of the fire, dragged himself through a hedge,
down a steep bank, across a road, up another bank, through a crevice in
a park fence, and curled himself up to die under a blackberry-bush.
[Illustration: BURYING-ANTS.]
[Illustration: SAVAGE FUNERAL.]
Perhaps it was mistaken kindness on my part, and I should have acted
better if I had left him to die in peace. But, though I carried him back
three times, and though he was quite unable to see, he contrived to slip
out of the house, and to find the same spot for his last resting-place
on this earth.
I have heard that some cats have been known to bury their young, and Dr.
J. Brown tells a most touching story of a dog that committed her dead
puppy to the river.
But as to Insects, until a few years ago, no one ever dreamed that the
principle of burial could be found among them. What millions of insects
die in every year, and how seldom is a dead insect found! Flies, gnats,
and the smaller insects might escape observation, but the large moths,
butterflies, beetles, dragon-flies, &c., are scarcely ever found dead.
In my own neighbourhood, for example, the Stag-beetle, nearly the
largest and most conspicuous of British insects, swarms to an almost
unpleasant degree, especially in the summer evenings.
Yet I have never found a dead Stag-beetle that had not been killed by
violence. What becomes of the bodies of the countless millions of
creatures that annually pass into their other world is a problem which
at present no one seems to be able to solve.
* * * * *
STILL, there are instances where even insects are known to bury their
dead, and I scarcely need say that they are to be found among the Ants.
The story is a very curious one, and is narrated at length in the
_Journal of the Linnæan Society_, vol. v. p. 217.
It happened that a lady found that her little boy was being stung by
ants, and she at once killed them and threw their dead bodies away.
After some time a number of ants came out of their nest, formed a
procession as regularly organized as that of any undertaker’s funeral,
dug graves for each dead ant, laid the body in it, and covered it up
again with earth.
They carried their organization to such an extent that they even had
relays of bearers. But the strangest part of the story is that several
worker ants would not assist in the funereal ceremonies. The soldiers at
once set on them, killed them, and tumbled them all promiscuously into a
common grave.
Such scenes were repeatedly witnessed by the lady, a Mrs. Hutton, who
wrote the account while she was living in New South Wales.
USEFUL ARTS.