light—namely, the incandescence which is produced by sending the
current through a very slender filament of platinum wire or carbon
fibre inclosed in a glass bulb exhausted of air. Such are the lamps
of Swan, Edison, and others. These lamps have also their curious
features. The temperature of the filament is of course much lower than
the temperature of the arc. It is only about eighteen hundred degrees
Centigrade, for if it were higher, the delicate filament would be
dissipated into vapour which would condense like smoke on the cool
glass. With a platinum filament, the metal would ‘silver’ the interior
of the bulb. Curiously enough, when the copper ‘electrodes’ or wires
conveying the current inside the bulb to the filament of an Edison lamp
are accidentally dissipated by excess of current, the carbon thread
seems to shelter the glass from the copper shower, for Dr J. Fleming
has observed that there is always a blank line on the glass opposite
the filament, while all the rest is coated with a film of copper. When
the carbon itself is dissipated, this blank line is not seen, and
the whole interior of the bulb appears to be smoked. According to Dr
Fleming, this means that the molecules of copper move in straight lines
in the vacuum.
During the ordinary action of one of these lamps there is believed to
be a kind of molecular bombardment between the two sides of the carbon
filament, which is usually bent into a loop. This battery of atoms in
time disintegrates the filament near its junction with the wires where
it is severest, and a patent has recently been taken out by Mr Brush,
the well-known inventor, for the insertion of a mica screen between the
legs of the filament to shield them from the pellets.
The spectrum of the voltaic arc consists of the continuous ribbon
spectrum of the white-hot solid carbons, and certain bright lines
due to the glowing vapours of the arc. The light is rich in the
blue or actinic rays so productive of chemical action, and hence it
is, perhaps, that Dr Siemens found it so effective in forcing fruit
and flowers by night in lieu of the sun. It helps the development of
chlorophyl; and perhaps the electricity itself has also something to
do with assisting growth, apart from the light, for several French
experimenters have found that electrified soil and air seem to foster
plants better than unelectrified. It is remarkable, too, that young
bamboo shoots grow very rapidly after the thunderstorms which usher in
the Indian monsoons.
The power of the arc-light is something unrivalled by any other light,
whether of limelight or magnesium. At the famous Crystal Palace
Electrical Exhibition, an arc reputed to be one hundred and fifty
thousand candles in power was lighted every evening. The carbons
were stout copper-plated bars nearly two and a half inches thick.
This intensity of illumination renders the arc eminently adapted for
lighthouses and search-lights. Hence it is that the French government
have decided to light forty of their coast lighthouses by electricity,
and that most of our warships and military trains are now equipped
with electric lamps for searching purposes. We read that the fleet at
Alexandria explored the Egyptian forts by night with powerful arcs; and
that the French Admiral at Madagascar struck terror into the breasts of
the simple Hovas by a similar display.
For scouring the sea in search of torpedo-boats by night, or icebergs
and other ships during a fog, the value of the arc-light cannot be
too highly estimated. The screw-steamer _Faraday_, while engaged some
time ago in laying a new Atlantic cable, would have run right into an
iceberg in a Newfoundland fog, but for the electric beam projected
from her bows into the misty air ahead. Fog, however, has a peculiarly
strong quenching power over the arc-light, owing to the preference it
has for absorbing all the blue rays, and to the comparative poverty of
the orange colour. Hence it is that electric arc-lamps look so white
and dim in a dense fog. A single gas-jet can be seen about as far as a
two-thousand-candle arc-lamp. This is because the gas-jet is rich in
those red rays which penetrate a fog without being absorbed; whereas it
is poor in the blue rays which are quenched. For this reason, also, the
incandescence lamp is preferable to the arc for a misty atmosphere.
The incandescence lamp can also burn under water, and owing to its
pretty shape, its pure light, its cleanliness, and independence of
everything except wires to bring the current to it, is highly suitable
for decorative purposes. It particularly lends itself to ornamental
devices of a floral order; and a great variety of chandeliers and
brackets have now been designed representing various plants with leaves
of brass or filagree, and flowers composed of tinted crystal cups
containing the lamps. Fruit is also simulated by lamps of coloured
glass. For example, at a Drury Lane Christmas pantomime, both holly and
mistletoe berries were imitated by incandescence lamps of crimson and
opal glass. Artificial lemon-trees, with fruit consisting of yellow
lamps, also make a pretty dining-table ornament. So do vases of roses
with incandescence lamps hid in them, an ornament devised by Mr J.
W. Swan for his residence at Bromley. Aquaria, too, can be lighted
internally by incandescence bulbs, and it would be very pretty to see
the lamps lying beside growing sea-anemones, whose expansion might seem
the more lovely under the stimulus of their rays.
A Christmas-tree looks very pretty when lighted by a hundred
incandescence lamps; the first attempted being in all probability that
in the Swedish section of the Electrical Exhibition held in Paris
two years ago. At the Vienna Electrical Exhibition there are, while
we write, some novel effects of electric illumination; for instance,
there is a hall lighted entirely from the ceiling by electricity. The
ceiling is painted a deep blue to represent the sky, and studded with
innumerable stars in the shape of incandescence lamps. This reminds
us of the allegorical sun produced in the window of Mr Mayal, the
well-known photographer, by means of the same illuminant.
From its cool brightness and safety from fire, the incandescence
light is very well adapted for theatres, and there are now several
opera-houses and theatres lighted by it. The Savoy Theatre, London; the
Princess’s Theatre, Manchester; the Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, &c.,
are all lit by incandescence lamps owing to its brilliance as compared
with gas. Some change was necessary in the making-up of the actors
and actresses, and the painting of the scenes; but at the New Grand
Theatre, Islington, the changes have been avoided by the use of yellow
glass bulbs which soften the light. At the Electrical Exhibition,
Vienna, there is a model theatre with numerous scenic effects never
before attempted by gas; and moonlight, sunrise, sunset, twilight,
and night are all imitated with great fidelity. In the drama of _Love
and Money_ at the Adelphi Theatre, a flood of daylight bursting in
upon some entombed miners through a hole cut in the coal by a rescuing
party was very well imitated by a beam of ‘arc’ light. The practice
of wearing tiny star lamps on the hair or dress has also come more
into fashion. Probably the first use of it was by the fairies in the
comic opera of _Iolanthe_ at the Savoy Theatre. Each fairy carried a
small accumulator on her back half concealed by her wings, and this
gave electricity to a miniature Swan lamp mounted on her forehead.
Ladies are sometimes to be seen with miniature lamps attached to their
dresses, and lighted by a touch of their fingers upon a small key hid
in their belts. One might have glowworm or firefly ornaments at this
rate. The ‘death’s-head’ pin worn by gentlemen in Paris a year or two
ago was a similar application of the electric current. On touching a
key to complete the electric circuit of a small pocket battery, the
eyes of the death’s-head in the wearer’s breast began to shine like
sparks of fire.
The use of the electric light for sporting purposes has had some
curious developments. Polo, cricket, base ball, skating, and so on,
have all been played by night. At the Montreal Ice Carnival last
winter, the huge ice palace was illuminated both out and in with
thousands of electric lights, and skating, curling, snow-shoeing, and
toboganning went on by night as well as day.
Gnats are fascinated by a powerful electric lamp, and dance about it as
they do in a beam of evening sunshine. Light has an attraction for many
animals besides insects. Flying-fish spring out of the sea when sailors
hang a lantern by the ship’s side; and in California now it is the
custom to submerge a cluster of Edison lamps from the bows of a boat
with a net expanded below. When the fish gather round the light the net
is closed on them, and after being hauled out of the water they are put
into water-tanks, and sent alive on special cars by overland rail to
New York and the Eastern States. The French _chasseur_ also makes a bag
sometimes by employing an electric light to attract his feathered game;
pigeons especially being lured by it.
Owing to its power, the arc-light is very well suited for signalling
purposes; and hence it is now used with the heliograph to signal the
approach of cyclones between the British island of Mauritius and
Reunion in the Indian Ocean. It has also been proposed to signal by
transparent balloons lit by incandescence lamps. The balloon is raised
to a good height by a rope which also carries the wires conveying the
current to the lamps; and flashes according to an understood code of
signals are made by working a key to interrupt the current, as in the
act of telegraphing.
Diving operations under the sea are greatly facilitated by the electric
light; and a trial was recently made of a powerful lamp at Marseilles
in lighting up the hull of a sunken ship. The amber hunters of the
Baltic are also using the light for seeking the fossil gum on the
sea-bed, instead of waiting until the waves cast it on the shore.
Sea-water is remarkably clear, and the rocks of the seashore are often
beautifully covered with weeds and shells. It is no wonder, then, that
a submarine balloon has been devised by one Signor Toselli at Nice,
for going under water to examine them. This observatory holds eight
people, and has a glass bottom and an electric light for illuminating
the sea-caves.
The electric light is not free from danger; but, from not being
explosive, it is far from being as fatal in its effects as gas. There
have been several deaths from electric shock caused by the very
powerful currents of the Brush and Jablochkoff machines. For instance,
a man was killed instantly on board the late Czar’s yacht _Livadia_
when crossing the Bay of Biscay. He had accidentally grasped the bare
connections of one of the electric lamps and received the current
through his breast. Others have been killed by touching bare wires
conveying the current; a man in Kansas City, United States, met his
death quite recently in repairing some electric light wires without
knowing that the current flowed in them. Carelessness of some kind
was the source of these misfortunes; but the use of such very deadly
currents is to be deprecated. When the electromotive force of an
electric current exceeds five hundred volts it becomes dangerous, and
hence it is that the Board of Trade prohibits the use of more powerful
currents for general lighting. The use of overhead wires, sometimes
uninsulated and never wholly insulated, such as obtains in some parts
of the United States, ought also to be eschewed, and underground
cables, safe out of harm’s way, employed instead. With cables buried
in the earth, we should not have a repetition of the curious incident
which recently happened at the Luray Cavern in Virginia, where
lightning ran into the cave along the electric light conductors and
destroyed some of the finest stalactites.
The plan of having tall masts with a cluster of very powerful lights
reflected from the height by mirrors is a very good one, since it
obviates the distribution of wires and lamps. By imitating the sun, in
this way a Californian town is entirely lighted from one or two masts;
and it is satisfactory to know that the system is being tried at South
Kensington.
The dynamos of electric machines have been known to explode, or rather
burst from the centrifugal force due to the rapid revolution of the
armature. An accident of this kind recently caused great alarm in a New
York theatre. Sparks from the red-hot carbons of arc-lamps, or between
wire and wire of the conductors, have also led to many small fires;
but none of any great consequence. A spark is so feeble a source of
heat that, unlike the spilling of an oil-lamp, it does not produce a
powerful fire, provided the materials it falls among are not highly
inflammable. On the whole, the danger of fire with electric lighting,
especially incandescence lighting, has probably been exaggerated. The
incandescence lamp itself is very safe, since if one be enveloped in
light dry muslin and broken, the muslin is not burnt. In fact, the rush
of air caused by the broken vacuum entirely dissipates the red-hot
filament.
From its injurious aspects we turn now to its beneficial qualities.
The arc-light by its brilliance is not good for the eyesight when
looked at direct, but there is probably nothing harmful in the light
itself, unless it should be the excess of violet rays. It is a cool
light; and hot lights, by drying the natural humours of the eye, are
the most prejudicial to the sight. The incandescence light which
is free from excess of violet rays is also a cool light; and as it
neither pollutes nor burns the air of a chamber, it is the best light
for a student. Small reading-lamps, fitted with movable arms carrying
incandescent bulbs, are now manufactured for this purpose. Even with
the incandescence lamp, however, it is advisable not to look at the
brilliant filament.
Surgeons and dentists find these little incandescence lamps of great
service in examining the teeth and mouth. Some are made no larger than
a pea. Others are fitted into silver probes (cooled by circulating
water) for insertion into the stomach to illuminate its coats, or
enable a physician to diagnose other internal organs. Dr Payne, of
Newcastle-on-Tyne, recently made an examination of the liver by
inserting one of these endoscopes into it through an incision made in
the abdomen. M. Trouvé has also fitted a small lamp to a belt which
goes round the physician’s forehead, thereby enabling him to direct the
light to where he is looking. Another experimenter has so applied the
light that he has been able to photograph the vocal chords while in
the act of singing; and a third has illuminated the whole interior of
a living fish, so that all the main physiological operations could be
witnessed by a class of students. Such services as these could not be
rendered by any other known illuminator.
HUSH-MONEY.
Out of the countless variety of evil-doers who thrive upon the
misfortunes of their fellow-creatures, and are enabled to gain a means
of livelihood by the folly and timidity of their dupes, one class above
all others seem to conduct their depredations with much success, on
account of the defenceless position of the unhappy individuals upon
whom they prey. We allude to those who make it their business to levy
what is termed ‘hush-money.’
There are innumerable miscreants who thrive upon the possession of some
discreditable secret or family skeleton, which throws a desolating
blight over many a life, to all appearance surrounded by every comfort
and luxury wealth can command. Scoundrels of this description, secure
in the helplessness of their victims, pursue with impunity their
merciless system of extortion, being well aware that the terror of
exposure is so great, that silence will be purchased at any price.
If persons who are threatened by ruffians of this kind with exposure
of some private matter, were once and for all to refuse to pay one
penny for the silence of these extortioners, how much misery would
be avoided! Each instalment of hush-money only serves to whet the
appetites of these social harpies. It is infinitely preferable to face
boldly at first the worst, no matter of how serious a nature, than
to supply blackmail for the purchase of what can never be security.
The majority of malefactors are cowards at heart, although a craven
nature is in such cases concealed often by bluster and braggadocio. It
therefore becomes all the more important at once to withstand their
infamous importunities.
The ordinary observer, while reading in some sensational novel the evil
deeds and extortion perpetrated by the class of knaves who subsist
on hush-money, would be inclined to attribute them to romance. It
is, however, well known to those who have had experience in criminal
matters, that the novelist’s fertile imagination pales before stern
reality. Innocent persons have been threatened with an accusation of
some infamous crime, and at the same time money has been demanded as
the price of silence. The dread caused by even an accusation of such a
nature has often, unfortunately, induced persons so situated to accede
to extortionate demands. There are plenty of _mauvais sujets_ hovering
about society who make it their business to become intimate with the
private history of those upon whose infirmities they intend to trade.
Not many years since, a notable instance of this occurred. A gentleman
in a high social position was ruthlessly assailed and socially ruined
by a miscreant, who traded upon the possession of some information of
a dubious nature reflecting discredit upon his wife. For a lengthened
period this gentleman had paid considerable sums of money for the
silence of his persecutor; at last, however, driven to desperation by
continual and increased demands for hush-money, he preferred rather to
face a public trial than continue longer subject to such tyranny and
extortion.
The following apt illustration of blackmailing, which came under the
writer’s personal cognisance, will show the rascality in vogue amongst
these wretches. A wealthy merchant was for some years completely in
the power of a thorough-paced scoundrel who had previously been in his
employ. This knave became acquainted with a delicate family matter,
which, if disclosed, could but entail shame and misery upon his late
employer. He threatened to make this information public unless well
paid for his silence. This gentleman, although surrounded by every
luxury, was in truth a thoroughly miserable man. Living in a constant
state of fear lest his family skeleton should be revealed in all its
hideousness, he continued from time to time to supply his tormentor
with large sums of money. The continual mental strain caused his health
to give way, until at last he wisely determined to consult his legal
adviser upon what was the bane of his life. Prompt steps were then
taken, which for ever freed him from further extortion. These things
daily happen, and yet, unfortunately, frequently remain unpunished.
What can be more terrible than to exist in constant fear of pending
ruin—entirely at the mercy of some miscreant, who by one word
can destroy a hitherto stainless reputation! It is a true saying
that ‘there is a skeleton in every house,’ and if discovered by
any designing knave, may be transformed into a sword of Damocles.
Confidential servants and discharged valets often wring large sums from
their former employers by means of extortionate demands combined with
threats of disclosing certain family matters calculated to bring shame
upon their late masters’ or mistresses’ good name.
The payment of any illicit demand as a price of secrecy rarely, if
ever, permanently obtains the object in view, the donor being more or
less in constant fear lest a disclosure should take place. This usually
transpires sooner or later, when the torturer has abstracted the
uttermost penny from his victim. No greater delusion can possibly exist
than that ‘hush-money’ will secure durable secrecy.
Happily, however, the legislature, having in view the nefarious
practices of such criminals, has provided a most potent remedy against
this class of robbers, which remedy cannot be too generally known.
The Act of Parliament 24 and 25 Vict. s. 49, enacts, _That whosoever
shall accuse or threaten any person with a view to extort money or
valuable security, shall be guilty of felony, and be liable at the
discretion of the court to be kept in penal servitude for life, or for
any term not less than five years_. All demands for hush-money met at
the outset by firm and unyielding refusal, is the best and only course
to adopt. In the majority of instances, a villain would at once be
completely checkmated; and even should he venture to extremities, the
law is powerful enough to put an end to his shameful trade. Anything
is better than to live in constant terror of exposure, and to be
remorselessly plundered by such a vampire. We often hear of strange
suicides, the reason for which is wholly incomprehensible. It is by
no means surprising that, at times, persons wanting in resolution,
are made desperate by a system of exquisite mental torture, when
unmercifully applied by these extortioners. Innumerable unhappy persons
are unquestionably thus tormented, like Prometheus on his rock. Such
anguish, although unseen, is far greater than physical suffering, as
all mental tribulation is more severe than mere bodily pain.
If any one who is assailed by a miscreant in quest of ‘hush-money’ were
at once to place the matter in the hands of some respectable solicitor,
a course of misery would be avoided, as any attempt to extort money
through threats or otherwise comes clearly within the provisions of the
Act above mentioned; and criminal proceedings will be found the most
effectual means for exterminating so great a social pest.
DONALD—A PONY.
Are thy tired feet on this rough earth yet walking,
Thou patient silent one;
Maybe, with humble cart, and poor wares hawking,
Thy life-course nearly run?
Be thankful that thou dost not e’er remember
One radiant summer day;
That dreams of June come not in _thy_ December,
When skies are cold and gray!
He rode on thee along the sunny highway,
To meet me where I stood
Out from the village, in a soft green by-way—
Our young hearts were in flood.
He saw me—swift as thought from off thee leaping,
He led thee by one hand;
And with the other clasped me, sweetly keeping
Me under Love’s command.
Ah! then began a walk through Eden’s glory—
We wandered slowly on;
While I, deep blushing, saw and read the story
That through his blue eyes shone.
We sat, and let thee browse—came some light laughter
To ease our brimming hearts,
That could not tell their too full joy; till—after—
When pierced by parting’s darts.
The hour flew on—ah me! ’twas our last meeting
Ere he would cross the sea;
And when again we two should offer greeting,
I was his bride to be.
So we clung close, each costly moment counting,
Wild with our vain self-pity!—
The hour was o’er—then slowly on thee mounting,
He rode back to the city.
O Donald! Yesterday, to Wemyss Bay going,
I passed that very spot;
I saw thee browse, whilst our swift tears were flowing—
(I have not yet forgot).
He sailed across the sea; but came not hither
For me, his bride, again;
And Hope and Joy fled far—I know not whither,
But left me Love and Pain.
My lonely days are dull and cold and common,
And thine mayhap are done;
But—a _new_ day dawns for man and woman
After this setting sun.
K. T.
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and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
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