THE ALARM.
After the explosion, James said that it was time for him to go home. It
was about sundown. Rollo said that he would go home with him to keep him
company, if his mother would let him. She had no objection, and Rollo
and James went away together.
Rollo went with James to the door of the house where James lived, and
then, bidding him good night, he left him, and began to return. When he
had got about half way home, he saw a lady and a gentleman coming along
the road. As he approached nearer to them, he found that it was his
father and mother, taking a walk. Rollo joined them. They said, however,
that they had walked far enough, and so in a few minutes they turned
round, and went towards home.
“Didn’t our gunpowder go pretty well, father?” said Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father, “better than I expected it would, without
being more accurate in our proportions.”
“It was a very good experiment, I think,” said Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father, “it was a good experiment, and it will prove
useful to you, if it impresses upon your mind the nature of that
property of gunpowder on which its power depends; namely, that its
combustion is within itself. It doesn’t need the outward air.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rollo.
“There are other things that are more inflammable than gunpowder; that
is, they will take fire more easily, and make a greater flame; but they
cannot burn unless they have air. There is phosphorus, for example; it
will take fire a great deal more easily than gunpowder, and I believe it
will make a greater flame; but it must have air, and it can’t burn any
faster than fresh air can get to it.”
“Then phosphorus will take fire easier than gunpowder,” said Rollo’s
mother.
“Yes,” said Mr. Holiday; “that is, with a less degree of heat. I presume
that, if I were to rub phosphorus in a mortar, it would almost certainly
take fire. These friction matches are made of some composition of
phosphorus, and the heat of rubbing the end upon a board is enough to
set the composition on fire. But gunpowder would not burn by being
rubbed so. But still, though less heat is required to inflame phosphorus
than gunpowder, still air is necessary for the phosphorus, and it is not
necessary for gunpowder; so that gunpowder will burn in confined places
when phosphorus will not.
“Suppose, for instance,” continued Mr. Holiday, “that we had a barrel of
phosphorus and a barrel of gunpowder, both open at the top, and were to
set them on fire. The gunpowder would burn at once from the top to the
bottom at a single flash, without any help from the outward air. The
phosphorus would take fire on the top, and burn down gradually, as fast
as the air could come to the flame. It would burn very fast and
furiously, and I think it likely it would make, in all, a greater flame
than the gunpowder. But then it would burn gradually and only as fast as
it could get a supply of fresh air; so that if, while it was burning,
men were to come and cover it all over with wet blankets, so as to keep
away the air, it would smother it, and put it all out.”
“The _water_ of the wet blankets would put it out,” said Rollo.
“No,” said his father; “it would be the same with any thing dry, if it
would keep out the air. I presume, if a great quantity of dry sand was
poured over it, it would put it out. But wet blankets or dry sand put
over a barrel of gunpowder, even if we could have time to do it, would
have no effect at all in stopping the burning; for the burning is not
dependent upon the outward air at all; the combustion is entirely within
itself; that is the essential peculiarity of gunpowder, on which all its
powers depend.”
“I don’t see why it should burst open what it is confined in, after
all,” said Rollo’s mother.
“Nor I,” said Rollo. “I should think it might burn up, without tearing
things to pieces.”
“I don’t know myself,” replied Mr. Holiday, “exactly why it has such an
expansive force. I’ll look in some book, when I get home, and see if I
can find an explanation of it. But, at any rate, you see the difference
in the manner of its burning. Now, there is wood, for example; it burns
by degrees, as fast as the fresh air can come to it. When you put a
stick of wood upon the fire, if it is dry and warm, and the fire is hot,
first the outside takes fire. This burns because the air can get access
to it. But the inside does not burn at all. If we were to take a stick
off the fire, after it had been burning for half an hour, and saw it in
two, we should find the middle as sound and solid as ever.”
“Should we sir?” said Rollo; “I should expect to find it all black
coals.”
“No,” replied his father. “The blackness only extends in a very little
distance; and the wood within is not burned any faster than the outside
gets burned off out of the way, so as to let the air come to the inner
layers, one after another.
“And there is a very curious contrivance in nature,” continued Mr.
Holiday, “for supplying the fire all the time with fresh air.”
“What is it?” asked Rollo’s mother.
“Why, air is so constituted, that heat swells it, and makes it lighter;
so that the air that is next to the outer layer of the wood, when the
wood first begins to burn, becomes heated, and swells, and so, growing
lighter, it immediately rises and goes out of the way, and a new supply
of good, fresh air comes in to take its place. By the time that this is
no longer good to promote the burning, it gets heated and rises; and so,
there is a constant stream of hot air, that has passed through the fire,
rising, and fresh air coming in to take its place. That is the reason,
Rollo, why we have chimneys in a house. A chimney is nothing but an
opening over a fire, so that the air can rise up through it as fast as
it passes through the fire, and all the smoke and sparks pass up too.”
“I thought a chimney was only to let the smoke up,” said Rollo.
“No,” replied his father, “that is not all, by any means. If a fire made
no smoke, it would still be almost as necessary as it is now to have a
chimney. In fact, some fires do not make any smoke; some kinds of coal,
dug out of the ground, do not make any smoke, and charcoal fires do not
make any smoke; but still it is always necessary in such cases to have
chimneys.
“Because,” he continued, “you must understand, that air gets changed in
passing through a fire, so that it will not answer afterwards either to
breathe, or to make a fire burn again; and therefore there must be some
way for it to escape, not only out of the way of the fire, but also out
of the room where people want to live and breathe. There is always such
a stream of air rising up from every fire, great or small, even from a
lamp.”
“Why, father, is a lamp a fire?” said Rollo.
“Certainly,” said his father, “it is a small fire made by burning oil on
the top of a wick, and the hot air rises in a constant stream above it.
So in a room, if there was no chimney over the fire, all the air that
had passed through the fire, and become heated, would ascend to the top
of the room. I saw the proof of this once, in a very singular manner.”
“How was it, sir?” said Rollo.
“It was one day when I was travelling. It was in the winter. I came to a
hotel and was going up stairs to my room just before dinner. When I got
to the head of the stairs, and was about going along the passage-way to
my room, I saw, a little way before me, a door open, which led into
another room; and there was a thick stream of white smoke, pouring out
in the most beautiful manner, at the upper part of the door, and falling
up to the ceiling.”
“Falling _up_!” said Rollo.
“Yes,” said his father. “It looked precisely like a little waterfall,
falling up. There was no smoke at all coming out, except close to the
top of the door; and, as soon as it got out, it went up to the ceiling
of the entry, and from that it spread all around like water. It was very
beautiful, but I had not time to stop to admire it, for I presumed that
the room was on fire.”
“And did you cry fire?” said Rollo.
“No,” replied his father. “It is never best to call out for help, unless
you are sure you need it. My room was very near. I remembered that my
pitcher was full of water in my wash-stand. I ran and got the pitcher,
and went into the room which the smoke was coming from. I saw a great
blazing by the side of the fireplace.”
“And did you run and pour your water on?” said Rollo.
“No,” replied Mr. Holiday; “I didn’t pour it on, for in that case a
great deal of it would have all run down upon the floor, and been
wasted. I went up to the place, and put my hand into the pitcher, and
began to sprinkle the water on as fast as I could, and it put the fire
right out at once.”
“What was it that was burning?” asked Rollo.
“A basket of chips,” replied his father.
“A basket of chips!” repeated Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father. “It seems that the man who occupied that room
had gone out without taking down his fire, and he had left a small
basket, with a few chips in the bottom of it, near the corner. Now,
while he was gone, one of the sticks of wood had burned off, and the two
ends outside of the andirons, not having been burned at all, were heavy;
and so the ends of the stick fell over, one on one side and the other on
the other. The stick which fell over towards the basket, threw a coal
against it and set it on fire; and the basket, being very dry and thin,
burned very fast. Scarcely any thing of the size makes a greater blaze,
than a basket, for it is thin, and of such a form that the air can get
to it on both sides.”
“That was a narrow escape,” said Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father, “I think it was.”
“And I expect the landlord thanked you for saving his house from burning
up,” said Rollo.
“On the contrary,” replied his father, “I had a scolding.”
“A scolding!” exclaimed Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father; “I stepped out into the entry, and asked the
chamber-maid who was there, if she would go and ask the landlord to come
up into that room. When he came, I pointed to the wet and blackened
ruins of the basket, and said,—
“‘We came very near having a fire, sir.’”
“And what did he say?” asked Rollo.
“Why, he thought that it was my room, and he was quite angry, and began
to scold me for being so careless as to leave that basket so near the
fire.”
“And what did you say?” asked Rollo.
“Nothing,” replied his father.
“Nothing!” exclaimed Rollo.
“No, I did not say any thing at all. I listened to hear all that he had
to say, and then I went away to my room.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?” said Rollo.
“I thought I would let him find out in his own way,” replied his father.
“And did he find out?” said Rollo.
“Yes,” replied his father. “He came to me after dinner, and made a very
humble apology. He told me that he was very sorry for what he had said,
but that he supposed that that was my room.”
“And what did you tell him?” asked Rollo.
“I told him it was of no consequence,—and that a man who allowed himself
to condemn before he made inquiry, must expect to fall into some
mistakes.”
QUESTIONS.
Under what circumstances did Rollo find himself taking a walk with
his father and mother? What did Rollo’s father say was the peculiar
and essential property of gunpowder? Which is more inflammable,
phosphorus or gunpowder? How did Mr. Holiday illustrate this? What
did Mr. Holiday say about the expansive force of burning gunpowder?
By what process are fresh supplies of air furnished to fires? Why
does the air which has once passed through the fire rise? What is a
chimney for? Would a chimney be necessary if a fire made no smoke?
Relate the incident which occurred to Mr. Holiday at the tavern.
What example of prudence and presence of mind is furnished by this
case? What example of hasty judgment? What example of patient
forbearance?