Breaking Earth for Removal or Tilth.

Inventors have taken a hint from nature as she carries a burden of mud and pebbles in a rapid stream of water. A modern method of deepening a water course is to reduce to fine silt the surface of its bed, and then remove this silt with a powerful stream. Water in swift eddies both lifts and bears away not only clay, but stone and gravel when these are small enough. In placer-mining streams of water much more powerful are directed against hill-slopes of earth and stone, which disappear a great deal faster than by means of spades and shovels. One of our Northwestern railroads runs for some miles along the base of a steep ridge, from which at times heavy rains wash down masses of earth, sand and gravel to the track. A powerful steam pump forcing a stream through hose removes the obstructions from the line with amazing rapidity. Work a good deal commoner and vastly more important consists in taking a process begun by nature and carrying it many steps further, so as to break up masses of earth again and again. The plow, the harrow, the sharp-toothed cultivator, divide and subdivide the soil of farm and garden so as to offer rootlets new surfaces at which rain may be drunk in with its nourishing food. When a garden patch is to be fertilized by bones, these serve best when reduced to meal, so as to be quickly and widely absorbed.

Work of the Winds.

In earth-sculpture one of the busiest agents is the wind, especially as it seizes ocean waves and dashes them upon beach and cliff, grinding large stones to pieces, and reducing these at last to mere pebbles and sand. On land the gales take hold of sand and dust with effects even more telling: sand flung against the hardest quartz or granite will bring it to powder at last. Sand dunes, shifting under the stress of high winds, have spread desolation around Provincetown, Massachusetts, and in many another region once fertile enough. This process of nature immemorially old has been copied in modern invention, by the sandblast devised by the late General Tilghman of Philadelphia. In its simplest form, sand from a hopper falls in a narrow stream upon window panes, glassware and the like, to be roughened except where protected by a paper pattern. Had sandstone in lumps, as large as playing marbles, been dropped on the glass, there would have been harmful fracture; as each particle of sand weighs too little in proportion to its striking surface to do more than detach a tiny chip, we have a bombardment wholly useful.

Dimensions in Ignition.

Primitive man achieved an incomparable triumph when first he kindled fire by swiftly twirling one dry stick upon another, dropping the tiny sparks on finely divided tinder, quick to catch fire because it presented much surface to the air. Peat, a fuel common in many parts of the world, easily dug from bogs and marshes, can be readily dried if chopped into fragments and exposed to the wind in open sheds. Charcoal easily produced from wood of any kind, is often used to absorb harmful gases in boxes of preserved meats and in household refrigerators. Its effectiveness is due to its minute pores, presenting as they do a vast area of capillary attraction. Charcoal, of course, burns faster when powdered than when unbroken; and gunpowder, into which charcoal largely enters, is molded into cakes either big, if it is to burn somewhat slowly, or is pressed into fine grains, when an explosion all but instantaneous is desired.

Dust Common and Uncommon.

Common dust surrounds us always, entering the tiniest chink of wall and ceiling to show its path by a defacing mark. In dry seasons it abounds to a distressing degree, and accumulates rapidly at considerable heights from the ground. Observe a roof of the kind that slopes gradually toward the street, with a trough running along the cornice to carry off the rain or melted snow. When such a gutter is undisturbed for a few months it is clogged with mud due to the dust which has been lifted by winds to the roof, and swept by successive showers into the gutter. Dust particles, because they have so much surface for their mass, are readily caught up and borne to heights far exceeding those of the highest roofs. The terrific explosion of the volcano at Krakatoa, in the Sunda Strait of Java in 1883, shot more than four cubic miles of dust into the upper levels of the atmosphere, encircling the globe with particles which fell so slowly as for months to color the sunsets of New York and Canada, ten thousand miles away.

Inflammable Dust.

Wheat like other grain is combustible, hence as food it sustains bodily warmth. Under stress of necessity wheat, corn, and barley have been burned as fuel when coal and wood have been lacking. In the process of flour-making wheat is ground to a powder so fine that when its particles are diffused through the air of a mill, there is a liability to explosion because the inflammable dust comes so near to contact with the atmospheric oxygen that at any moment they may unite. At Minneapolis, frightful disasters were brought about in this way until specially devised machines removed the dust. In coal mines, too, coal may fill the air with a dust so fine that explosions take place, with serious loss of life. In Austria it has been found that the fineness of the dust has more to do with the violence of such explosions than has the chemical composition of the particles.