The central heat of our globe is a reality that cannot be disputed, and after digging beyond a depth of twenty feet the thermometer gradually rises at the rate of one degree of Fahrenheit's scale for every fifteen yards. The bad conducting power of the crust of the earth must, therefore, be apparent, as it is easy, knowing the diameter of our globe, to calculate that the increase of heat downwards amounts to 116° for each mile, consequently at a depth of thirty and a half miles below the surface, there will be a temperature most likely equal to 3500°, or a heat that might easily melt cast-iron, and would help to account for the earthquakes and eruptions of volcanoes, which still remind us by their terrible warnings, that we live only on the bad conducting upper crust of a globe, the inside of which is still, perhaps, in a liquid and molten state. Monsieur Fourier has demonstrated the non-conducting power of this shell by calculating that, supposing the globe was wholly composed of cast-iron, the central heat would require myriads of years to be transmitted to the surface from a depth of 150 miles; and by inverting the process of reasoning, we may come to the conclusion that the internal heat must be excessive, because it is confined and shut out from those influences that would carry off and weaken the intensity.
There are no two words, says Tyndal, with which we are more familiar than matter and force. The system of the universe embraces two things, an object acted upon, and an agent by which it is acted upon; the object we call matter and the agent we call force. Matter, in certain respects, may be regarded as the vehicle of force; thus, the luminiferous ether is the vehicle or medium by which the pulsations of the sun are transmitted to our organs of vision. Or, to take a plainer case, if we set a number of billiard balls in a row, and impart a shock to one end of the series in the direction of its length, we know what will take place; the last ball will fly away, the intervening balls having served for the transmission of the shock from one end of the series to the other. Or we might refer to the conduction of heat. If, for example, it be required to transmit heat from the fire to a point at some distance from the fire, this may be effected by means of a conducting body—by a poker, for instance; thrusting one end of a poker into the fire, it becomes heated, the heat makes its way through the mass, and finally manifests itself at the other end. Let us endeavour to get a distinct idea of what we here call heat; let us first picture it to ourselves as an agent apart from the mass of the conductor, making its way among the particles of the latter, jumping from atom to atom, and thus converting them into a kind of stepping stones to assist its progress. It is a probable conclusion, even had we not a single experiment to support it, that the mode of transmission must, in some measure, depend upon the manner in which those little molecular stepping stones are arranged. But we must not confine ourselves to the molecular theory of heat. Assuming the hypothesis, which is now gaining ground, that heat, instead of being an agent apart from ordinary matter, consists in a motion of the material particles; the conclusion is equally probable that the transmission of the motion must be influenced by the manner in which the particles are arranged. Does experimental science furnish us with any corroboration of this inference? It does. More than twenty years ago MM. De la Rive and De Candolle proved that heat is transmitted through wood with a velocity almost twice as great along the fibre as across it. This result has been recently expanded, and it has been proved that this substance possesses three axes of calorific conduction; the first and greatest axis being parallel to the fibre; the second axis perpendicular to the fibre and to the ligneous layers; while the third axis, which marks the direction in which the greatest resistance is offered to the passage of the heat, is perpendicular to the fibre and parallel to the layers.
If many solids are bad conductors of heat, they are at all events greatly surpassed by fluids, and especially by water. The conduction of heat by that fluid is almost imperceptible, so much so, that it has even been questioned whether liquids do really conduct heat downwards at all. It has, however, been found that liquid mercury will conduct heat downwards, and therefore by analogy it may be assumed that other liquids must possess a conducting power, although it may be exceedingly limited.
In order to prove that water is an exceeding bad conductor of heat, a tube with a large glass bulb blown at one end is partly filled with tincture of litmus, until it will just sink below the surface of water placed in a tall cylindrical or open jar. If a copper basin, containing burning ether, is now floated on the top of the water, so as to leave about a quarter of an inch between the top of the air thermometer—viz., the bulb containing the coloured liquid—and the bottom of the copper pan, it will be noticed that whilst the water surrounding the latter almost boils, not the slightest effect arising from the conduction of heat can be perceived in a downward direction. After the ether has burnt out of the copper vessel, it may be removed, and the boiling water stirred down and around the air thermometer, when the air within it expands, drives out the colouring liquid, and the bulb becoming specifically lighter, rises to the top of the containing glass. (Fig. 365.)
Fig. 365.
a a. Cylindrical glass full of water. b. The glass air thermometer containing the coloured liquid just standing upright, the mouth of the tube at c being open. d d is the copper basin containing the burning ether. e shows how the glass bulb and tube rise after the upper basin is removed, and the hot water comes in contact with and expands the air, making the thermometer light, and causing it to rise.
Again, if the tube of an air thermometer is placed through a cork in the neck of a gas jar, inverted and standing on a ring stand, and the jar is then filled with water, and boiled at the top with a red-hot iron heater, the heat does not pass downwards and affect the thermometer. By introducing a syphon the water surrounding the thermometer at the bottom of the jar may be drawn off, until the hot water is within a fraction of an inch of the air thermometer, and still no heat is conducted, and the liquid in the latter remains stationary. (Fig. 366.)