[to be continued.]
THE BOY'S TELESCOPE.
The parson's boys were very fond of astronomy. They knew the chief constellations, and kept the place of the planets as they moved along among the stars. When their father told them how splendidly the moon and the planets look through a telescope, they were sadly disappointed to learn that a telescope costs so much money that he could not think of buying even one of the smallest size. Happening to hint that perhaps one might be made at home at small expense which would show the moon in new light and bring Jupiter's moons to sight, they gave him no rest till he had agreed that he would "see about it."
A few days afterward he showed the boys two common tin tubes which the stove man had just made. One was about one inch and a half in diameter, and about thirty inches long; the other was about twelve inches long, and just enough smaller to slip inside the first, and move easily out and in. The inside of both was painted black, so that there would be no reflecting of light inside. It is better—he told the boys—to paint the inside, if possible, after the tube is made, because the rolling and pounding in shaping and soldering the tube are likely to make the paint crack off. Then he took out of his pocket a paper, and unrolled a round spectacle glass, just big enough to slip into the end of the larger tube. "What's that?" the children exclaimed, all at once. "This is the object-glass of our telescope," was the answer. "The light from the object comes through this into the tube. It is a thirty-six-inch glass; that is, it brings the rays together at a distance of thirty-six inches." Frank held it up to the sun, which was getting low, and when the rays began to burn his hand, Walter brought the yard-stick, and it was just about thirty-six inches from the glass to the spot on his hand where he felt the heat. That was the focus of the glass. While the boys were wondering how the object-glass was to be fastened into the tube, the parson was already doing it. He had the tinman cut slits in the end about an eighth of an inch wide and almost twice as deep. Every other one of these he doubled back inside the tube, and pressed down with pincers, so that there should be nothing sticking out in the way of the moon and stars if they should try to get in. These made a rest for the glass, so that it couldn't slip into the tube. Then he bent the other slits down over the edge of the glass, but not so as to shut out any light, and these slits held the glass firmly.
The boys, of course, now wished to see whether the steeple of the church looked any bigger through this tube and object-glass. They couldn't see it so well as with the naked eye, and feared the new telescope was a failure. But their father told them it was too soon yet to vote on that question. He told Frank to hold out his hand, and see whether the sun would burn his hand through the glass and tube, as it did through the glass alone. It did. "Now," said he, "if you hold this tube up to Jupiter, at thirty-six inches from the glass there will be a very small image of him and his moons. If we could only see that image or picture through a microscope, we might see the moons as plainly as we see Jupiter himself with the naked eye."
"Why won't our microscope do?" asked Walter.
The parson said we couldn't get the image and the microscope together rightly; but while he was explaining, he was also unrolling another paper, out of which came a big bulging glass almost as round as a boy's eye. The edges of this had been ground down so that it would go into the end of the small tube, and it was fastened in just as the other was, only the slits needed to be a little longer, because the glass was thicker. This was a one-inch eyeglass; that is, it must be an inch from the object or image at which you are looking. He then cut in a piece of paper a round hole about as big as a shirt button, and pasted this over the eyeglass, and covered the end of the tube around, so that no light could come in there except through this small opening in the paper, which was so put on that the eye must look through the middle of the glass. He also pasted some strips of brown paper around the other end of the telescope, jutting over the object-glass just enough to keep it from breaking, and to prevent any light from coming through the edges, but not letting the paper touch this glass, as it did the eyeglass. The object-glass wants all the light it can get.
The boys had the first look; but they could see nothing, though the woods to which the glass was turned were yet visible.
"What's the focus of the glasses?" asked the parson.
"Thirty-six inches and one inch," was the correct answer.
The boys marked where the thirty-six inches ended, measuring from the object-glass. They then brought the eyeglass up to within about an inch of that, and looked through it again.
"Oh-oh-oo!" exclaimed Frank: "I see the trees so near that I can get hold of them, but they're bottom side up!"
"Yes," said their father, "but that will make little difference when looking at Jupiter or the moon."
They all had to wait what seemed a long time for the darkness to come, and let the stars appear. When the parson returned from the post-office after tea, he said it would be impossible to hold the tube in the hands steadily enough to see the planets plainly. So he found a strip of board about a foot long and two or three inches wide, which was hollowed out on one side. Into this hollow he fixed the tube by common tacks and small wire. Then through the middle of this strip he bored a large gimlet hole, and put in a long screw, and went to the workshop in the basement to make a standard into which to screw the strip which held the tube. He couldn't find nor make just what he wanted soon enough—the boys said that "Jupiter had just come out clear"—and so he caught the first box he could lay hold of, and screwed the tube upon one of its sides, just tight enough to hold it snug, yet let it move up or down. Then he called for a light stand, and case knives to make it and the box stand perfectly still. He took his place on the portico, got everything ready, and said he was "afraid to look for fear the boys would be disappointed." Frank said he "would like to look," and so, as he had been the most anxious to have the telescope made, his father gave him the first chance to be glad or sorry. After moving the box and the tube a little all kept silent, but soon Frank began a louder "Oo-oo-oo!" than before, and, much excited, exclaimed: "I see 'em: four red bright little fellows, all in a straight line," and then he ran as if half crazy, shouting, to his mother: "We got 'em, mother, all four of 'em! I wouldn't swap our telescope for any other. Come and see!"
The parson too was much delighted. As he happened to look at the other side of the box, he was amused to find that he had mounted his telescope on a "Eureka Soap" box. In a few days he made an upright standard, into which he bolted the telescope just tight enough to hold it, but let it move freely. A common screw becomes too loose in a little while. The instrument cost the parson only forty cents for the tubes; the glasses were given, but ought not to cost more than a dollar or two. If a one-inch eyeglass can not be had, a two-inch eyeglass will answer quite well. The reason for having two tubes is that eyes differ, and that what is bought for a thirty-six inch glass may be an inch or two more or less than that, so that the smaller tube must be moved back and forth till the eye finds where the view is plainest. This instrument shows the moon beautifully. You read of the circular mountains and the extinct volcanoes; here you see them. It is especially delightful to see in the new moon the light breaking over the mountain-tops and through the notches while all the plain behind is yet in the dark. Though it is now a good while since the parson made the telescope, he waits impatiently every month for the new moon to come again.
THE MAGIC BOTTLE.
There are few persons who have not been puzzled, when witnessing the exhibitions of conjurers and performers of feats of legerdemain, by the magic bottle, out of the neck of which the exhibitor can pour any one of quite a number of liquids at his will. It may interest the reader to see an explanation of the means by which the apparently magical effect is produced, especially as it involves an explanation of a certain philosophical principle which it is very useful for all to understand.
The pressure of the atmosphere all around us is so great that no liquid can issue against it from a close vessel, unless air is at the same time admitted to balance the external pressure by an internal one of the same amount. In the case of pouring water from a bottle the mouth of which is tolerably large, the air passes in in large bubbles as the water comes out, producing the gurgling sound always heard in such a case.
Where the orifice is too small to allow of the admission of these bubbles of air, the liquid will only flow out as fast as the air is allowed to enter in some other way, as shown in the engraving, where the water will not issue from the lower end of the tube except when the finger is raised from the upper end so as to admit the air.
There are various ingenious contrivances by means of which curious effects are produced through the operation of this principle. One, called the magic tunnel, is made double, with a space inclosed between the walls. There is an orifice communicating with this chamber at the top of the handle, which orifice is so situated that it can be opened or closed at pleasure by the thumb of the person holding it without attracting the attention of the spectator. Now if the body of the tunnel is filled, or partly filled, with pure water, while the hidden chamber contains a liquid deeply colored—with cochineal, for example—the person holding it can cause pure water to flow from it by keeping the orifice in the handle closed by his thumb, or colored water by simply raising his thumb and allowing the liquid in the concealed chamber to flow out and mingle with the clear water as it issues from the tube below.
Fig. 1.
Fig. 2.
The magic bottle acts on the same principle, though presenting it in another form. The bottle is usually made of tin, though colored on the outer surface to represent glass. Within, it contains several different receptacles, as shown in Fig. 1, each communicating by a separate pipe with the mouth of the bottle. Each of these receptacles is also provided with another tube, by which air may be admitted so as to allow the liquid contained in it to flow. These air tubes open by orifices in the side of the bottle, as shown in Fig. 2, which are covered and concealed by the thumb and the ends of the fingers of the operator, and may be kept closed or may be slightly opened at pleasure. By this means any one of five different liquids may be poured from the mouth of the bottle.
Of course it requires some dexterity to manipulate such an apparatus skillfully, in order to keep all the holes concealed from the spectators, and to open the right one, just enough to admit the air, and at the right time. The point of interest, however, for the general reader in the whole subject is the philosophical principle which is involved, namely, that the pressure of the atmosphere in every direction all around us is such that no liquid can issue from any orifice against the force of it acting from without inward, unless by the admission of air or the providing by some other means of an equal force to act from within outward as a counterpoise.
TWO WAYS OF PUTTING IT.
The Sultan awoke with a stifled scream:
His nerves were shocked by a fearful dream:
An omen of terrible import and doubt—
His teeth in one moment all fell out.
His wisemen assembled at break of day,
And stood by the throne in solemn array.
And when the terrible dream was told,
Each felt a shudder, his blood ran cold,
And all stood silent, in fear and dread,
And wondering what was best to be said.
At length an old soothsayer, wrinkled and gray,
Cried, "Pardon, my lord, what I have to say;
"'Tis an omen of sorrow sent from on high:
Thou shalt see all thy kindred die."
Wroth was the Sultan; he gnashed his teeth,
And his very words seemed to hiss and seethe,
As he ordered the Wiseman bound with chains,
And gave him a hundred stripes for his pains.
The wisemen shook as the Sultan's eye
Swept round to see who next would try;
But one of them, stepping before the throne,
Exclaimed, in a loud and joyous tone:
"Exult, O head of a happy state!
Rejoice, O heir of a glorious fate!
"For this is the favor thou shalt win,
O Sultan—to outlive all thy kin!"
Pleased was the Sultan, and called a slave,
And a hundred crowns to the wiseman gave.
But the courtiers they nod, with grave, sly winks,
And each one whispers what each one thinks,
"Well can the Sultan reward and blame:
Didn't both of the wisemen foretell the same?"
Quoth the crafty old Vizier, shaking his head,
"So much may depend on the way a thing's said!"
To our Young Friends:
As we can not expect to receive letters from you until you have been notified of the existence of our Post-office Box, we open the correspondence by writing to you, and asking you to think of us in the future. We should like to hear from you upon any subject which may interest you. If you have any questions to ask regarding your studies or your reading, we shall take great pleasure in advising you; or should you desire any information which you can not obtain from books within your reach, we will do our best to aid you. We shall also be glad to hear about your sports, your pets, or about any curious thing in nature which may come under your observation.
You must bear in mind that your communications must be very brief, because there are so many of you that we can not give a great deal of space to any one. We will endeavor to be kind and attentive to each and all alike.
It is very easy in these times to send letters in Uncle Sam's big mail-bag; and when you write on your neat, delicate note-paper, and put the pretty postage-stamp on the right-hand corner of the envelope, perhaps you never think of the way your great-grandparents went to work when they wanted to send a letter. First they took a very large square sheet of coarse blue paper, or, if they were young ladies and fancy-minded, one with a bright tint of pink or yellow. As postage was high, when they had written the pages full, straight across, they would turn the sheet sideways, and write at right angles to the other lines, and then corner-wise, perhaps, with a different-colored ink. There were no envelopes in those days, and the sheets had to be ingeniously folded, so that no curious postmaster could pry into family secrets. There was always a portion of the last page left blank, to form the outside of the letter, which, after being folded and directed, was sealed with a big red wafer. It was then ready to be started off the next time the stage-coach came through the town, for there were no railroads in those days, and often the mail-bag was carried miles and miles on horseback through wild regions where now the steam-engine whirls along with its long train of cars.
It was not necessary in those days to prepay the postage, which was much dearer than it is now. There were no postage-stamps, and big figures were written or stamped on the outside of the letter to denote the cost of transportation. In those times it often took weeks to send a letter to places where now only a day is required.
Do any of you know the name of the man who first thought of the great benefit cheap postage would be to the world, and can you tell something about the great work he accomplished in that direction, and when and where he died?
Our Post-office Box is now open for your contributions, which we trust will be neatly and correctly written, because an editor's eyes have a great deal of important work to do, and ought not to be employed in deciphering illegible writing.
Trusting that our acquaintance may be pleasant and lasting, the editor bids you welcome to the pages of Harper's Young People.
THE ORPHANS.
A Boy who is not fond of fun and frolic may possibly make a tolerable man, but he is an intolerable boy.
An Irish lover remarked that it is a great pleasure to be alone, "especially whin yer swateheart is wid ye."
If a man's horses should lose their tails, why should he sell them wholesale?—Because he can't retail them.
"I'd just like to see you," said a blind man to a policeman who told him he would lock him up if he didn't move on.
A little girl of four years was recently called as a witness in a police court, and in answer to the question what became of little girls who told lies, innocently replied that they were sent to bed.
When a certain King of England visited Scotland, many years ago, the following conversation took place between two countrymen:
Sandy. "Weel, Jock, hae ye seen the king?"
Jock. "Oh ay, I hae seen the king; but I wadna gang the length o' the street to see him again. He's just made like ony ither mon, an' they tell't me his arms were a lion an' a unicorn."
A Quandary.—If a boy should catch hold of your ear, and ask if he had the wrong pig by the ear, would you answer yes or no?
A melancholy Case of Suicide.—A naughty little boy, having been threatened with a whipping, immediately hung his head.
A little girl being asked by her grandfather where cotton grew, replied, with the greatest simplicity, "In old gentlemen's ears."
A man who lisped, having bought some pigs, asked a neighbor for the use of a pen for a few days. Said he: "I have jutht been purchathing thome thwine—two thowth and pigth. I want to put them in your pen till I can fix a plaith for them." "Two thousand pigs!" exclaimed the astonished neighbor; "why, my pen will hardly hold a dozen!" "You don't underthtand me, Mr. Bent. I don't thay two thouthand pigth, but two thowth and pigth!" "I hear you," said Mr. Bent; "two thousand pigs! Why, you must be crazy." "I tell you again," exclaimed the man, angrily, "I mean not two thouthand pigth, but two thowth and two pigth!" "Oh, that is what you mean, eh? Well, the pen is at your service."