It need hardly be mentioned that there has to be a certain adjustment between the volumes of air and of gas that pass into the regenerative stoves, in order that the best effect may be obtained. Besides the limit of temperature occasioned by the nature of the materials, there is a chemical reason why the regenerative stoves cannot increase the temperature indefinitely. It is noticed that when the temperature of the furnace has become very high indeed, the flame over the hearth assumes a peculiar appearance, being interrupted by dark spaces. These are attributable to what is called in chemistry “dissociation,”—in this case the dissociation of carbonic acid gas, which by the heat alone separates into carbonic oxide and oxygen gases. In the same way these gases refuse to combine if brought together heated beyond a certain temperature. This phenomenon of dissociation is a general one, for it is found that for any pair of substances there is a characteristic range of temperature above or below which they refuse to combine. The gas used in these stoves is either unpurified coal gas, or that produced by passing steam over red-hot coal or coke.
We have spoken of the Siemens and the Siemens-Martin open hearth processes. In the latter a charge of pig iron, say 1½ tons, is first melted on the hearth, then about 2 tons of wrought iron is added in successive portions, and in like manner nearly as much scrap steel (i.e. turnings, etc.), the final addition being half a ton of spiegeleisen containing 12 per cent. of manganese. A furnace of corresponding dimensions will allow of three charges every twenty-four hours. In the Siemens process it is not wrought iron or steel scrap that is mainly used to decarbonize the pig, but a pure oxide ore. This is thrown into the bath of molten metal in quantities of a few cwts. at a time, when a violent ebullition occurs. When samples of the metal and of the slag are found to be satisfactory, spiegeleisen or ferro-manganese is added, and the charge is cast. This process takes a rather longer time than the former, but gives steel of more uniform character. In both processes, phosphorus is oxidized at the high temperature attained and passes into the slag, which last floats of course on the molten metal and is from time to time tapped off as the action proceeds.
Fig. 26a.—Rolling Mill.
Fig. [26a] shows a rolling mill with what is called a “two-high” train for finishing bars by passing them between the grooves cut in the rolls to give the required section. The rolls in the illustration turn in one direction only, and therefore the bars after emerging from the larger grooves have to be drawn back over the machine and set into a smaller pair from the same side. This inconvenience is avoided in the “three-high train,” on which three rolls revolve, and the bars can be passed through them from one side to the other alternately. The celerity with which a glowing steel ingot is without re-heating converted into a straight steel rail 60 or 100 feet long, by passing a few times backwards and forwards between the rolls, is very striking. These rolls are made of solid steel, and in some cases have a diameter of 26 inches or more.
IRON IN ARCHITECTURE.
Everyone knows how much iron is used in those great engineering structures that mark the present age, and of which a few examples will be described in succeeding articles. One other feature of the nineteenth century is the use of iron in architecture. Some have, indeed, protested against the use of iron for this purpose, and would even deny the name of architecture to any structure obviously or chiefly formed of that material. Stone and wood, they say, are the only proper materials, because each part must be wrought by hand, and cannot be cast or moulded; and further, iron being liable to rust, suggests decay and want of permanence, and these are characters incompatible with noble building. All this can rest only on a relative degree of truth—as, for instance, machinery is used to dress and shape both wood and stone, and the permanence of even the latter is as much dependent on conditions as that of iron. Iron used in architecture is hideous when applied in shapes appropriate only to stone; but when it is disposed in the way suggested by its own properties, and receives ornament suitable to its own nature, the result is harmonious and graceful, and the structure may display beauties that could be attained by no other materials. Be that as it may, the great and lofty covered spaces that are required for our railway stations and for other purposes could have been obtained only by the free use of iron, and everyone can recall to mind instances of such structure not devoid of elegance, in spite of the absence—the proper absence—of the Classic “orders” or Gothic “styles.” The first notable instance of the application of iron on a large scale was the erection of the “Crystal Palace,” in Hyde Park, for the great Exhibition of 1851. It was taken down and re-erected at Sydenham, and there it has become so well known to everyone that any description of it is quite unnecessary in this place.
As another conspicuous example of what may be done with iron, the Eiffel Tower at Paris may be briefly described.
The idea of erecting a tower 1,000 feet high was not of itself new. It had been entertained in England as early as 1833, in America in 1874, and in Paris itself in 1881. It has been reserved for M. Gustave Eiffel, a native of Dijon, who commenced to practise as an engineer in 1855, to realize this ambitious project. He has long been occupied in the construction of great railway bridges and viaducts, and in these he has adopted a system peculiar to himself of braced wrought-iron piers without masonry or cast-iron columns. He also was the first French engineer to erect bridges of great span without scaffolding. In the Garabit viaduct he planned an arch of 541 feet, crossing the Truyère at a height of nearly 400 feet above it. One result of M. Eiffel’s studies in connection with these lofty piers was his proposal to erect the tower for the Paris Exhibition of 1889. This proposal met with great opposition on the part of many influential people in Paris—authors, painters, architects, and others protesting with great energy against the modern Tower of Babel, which was, as they said, to disfigure and profane the noble stone buildings of Paris by the monstrosities of a machine maker, etc. etc. The Eiffel Tower is now constructed, and no one has heard that it has dishonoured the monuments of Paris, for it has been instead a triumph of French skill, the glory of its designer, and the wonder of the Exhibition.
