Mr Price Edwards’s paper on ‘The Experiments with Lighthouse Illuminants at the South Foreland,’ recently read before the Society of Arts, London, was full of interest. In these experiments, the relative advantages of electricity, gas, and oil were put to careful test, temporary lighthouses having been erected for comparative trials of each. In the result, it was shown that in clear weather each illuminant was actually more brilliant than necessary. In dull and foggy weather the electric light penetrated further into the murky atmosphere than either gas or oil. But this extra penetration—amounting to two hundred or three hundred feet—is not of any practical importance to navigation. The final conclusion of the Examining Committee was: ‘That for ordinary necessities of lighthouse illumination, mineral oil is the most suitable and economical illuminant; and that for salient headlands, important landfalls, and places where a powerful light is required, electricity offers the greatest advantages.’
It may be noted as a matter of interest in the above-mentioned trials that the electric arc-lights employed were furnished with a novel kind of carbon rods, called the Berlin core carbons, and furnished by Messrs Siemens. These rods were fully an inch and a half in diameter, and were provided with a core of plumbago, or graphite, running through the centre. They were found to burn with exceptional steadiness, a result due to the superior conducting power of the central core.
According to Mr J. C. Clifford, who lately delivered a lecture before the Balloon Society of London, the art of dentistry in America is far in advance of the practice of the Old World. The dentists there are specialists. One will devote himself to extracting teeth, another to filing them, another to making artificial teeth, and so on. The lecturer also stated that these clever dentists had found out that if necessary, they could take a tooth out, cut off the diseased end, replace it, and it would grow firm again in a few days. Transplanting was also successfully carried on.
An interesting discussion has lately arisen concerning the deterioration of pictures by exposure to light and from other causes. There seems to be no doubt that in the case of water-colour pictures this deterioration is an undeniable fact. In oil-colours, the pigments being used in greater masses, and each particle of colour being inwrapped as it were in a protecting globule of oil, there is no perceptible change except a gradual darkening, due most probably to the oil and varnish. The number of organic substances upon which light will exert a bleaching action is far greater than is commonly supposed, and pigments of organic origin should always be regarded with suspicion. Luckily for our artists, there are pigments at their disposal which are permanent in character, and these alone should be used if they wish their works to remain ‘a joy for ever’ as well as ‘things of beauty.’
It seems a great pity that the art of producing pictures in far more permanent pigments, that of drawing in pastels or coloured chalks, should have been almost lost sight of, or at least relegated to the itinerant artist who decorates our pavements with impossible landscapes. In the middle of the last century, this art flourished in France; and works by its votaries, as fresh now as the day they were executed, are much sought after. In France, a Society has been formed for the revival of pastel-work, and its influence has been felt in London, where an excellent Exhibition of Coloured Chalk Drawings has lately been opened. We may hope that these efforts will lead to a revival of a lost art, which has other advantages besides permanence to recommend it.
In framing a picture covered with glass, be it a water-colour, a photograph, or an engraving, there is one precaution which should always be adopted, but is too often neglected—the glass should fit the frame exactly, and should be cemented to the wood inside by a slip of thick paper. This should be glued all round the frame; and if done properly, will exclude all dust, dirt, and undesirable vapours. The backboards, too, should be well papered, so that the picture may rest in a dust-proof and air-tight receptacle.
Our recent annexation of Burmah has had the effect of calling attention to the manners and customs of a very interesting people. Among the latest things noted is the fact that the Burmese and their neighbours the Shans are very expert blacksmiths, although the apparatus used is of a very crude description. The bellows employed for the forge curiously suggests in its construction a double cylinder steam-engine. The cylinders are represented by two bamboo trunks four inches in diameter, and about five feet long, standing upright on the ground. At their lower ends, a tube runs from each to the charcoal fire in which the iron to be wrought is heated. Piston rods also made of bamboo, and packed with bunches of feathers, are fitted within the cylinders. These, when forced downwards, cause the compressed air to be urged to the fire through the smaller tubes. A boy perched on a high seat works the bellows by depressing each piston rod alternately. The Burmese have also a primitive method of turning out brass and bronze castings. The article to be made is first of all modelled in clay; it is then covered with a layer of beeswax of the same thickness that it is desired the finished casting to be. An outer skin of clay two inches in thickness is laid above the wax. Funnel-shaped holes at frequent intervals in this outer crust afford a passage for the molten metal; and there are also straw-holes to let out the imprisoned air. As the hot metal melts out the wax, it occupies its place, solidifies, and forms a hollow casting.
In the metropolitan police district, there occurred last year three hundred and seventy-three cases of rabies in dogs, and twenty-six deaths from hydrophobia in man. This alarming and sudden increase in a most terrible disease led to stringent police regulations. All dogs, unless led by a string, had to be muzzled, and all stray dogs were destroyed. Although this order met with great opposition from lovers of dogs, who possibly forgot that a modern wire muzzle cannot be half so distressing to its wearer as a respirator is to a human being, its wisdom is seen in a return lately issued, which shows how rabies has decreased since it was put in force. In January last, the cases of rabies had fallen to twenty-seven, and there was only one death. In February, fourteen cases only were recorded, and there were no deaths. It is reported that our government, being fully alive to the importance of M. Pasteur’s discoveries with regard to the cause and prevention of hydrophobia, has appointed a Commission of eminent pathologists and physicians to inquire into the matter and to report thereon.
Mr Shirley Hibberd’s paper on the Protection of British Wild-flowers, recently read before the Horticultural Club, London, calls attention to the possible extinction of many of our wild plants. Many of these are in great demand for political as well as horticultural purposes, and the lecturer made special mention of the modest primrose. He petitioned all those who truly love the country to abstain from purchasing wild plants from travelling hucksters, whose baskets represent the half-way house for a plant on the road to extinction. He also strongly deprecated the practice of offering prizes for wild-flowers at flower-shows, as being another cause which must help extinction.
Sir Joseph Fayrer, in a recent lecture delivered in London on Cholera, said that contagion by personal intercourse was a theory of the disease which was no longer tenable. The British and Indian governments, who were in possession of well-ascertained facts concerning this subject, had discontinued all quarantine measures, and relied solely upon sanitary laws. In perfect sanitation resided the sole means of preventing the disease; and every individual should be scrupulously careful in his living and clothing as the best means of prevention. Care in diet, avoidance of all depressing influences, precautions against chills, violent alternations of temperature, impure water, unripe fruit, were the main considerations for those who wished to be safe from cholera. In addition to these precautions, the dwellers in every town and village in the country should do their best to secure good ventilation, perfect drainage, and should avoid overcrowding. Many of these safeguards are unfortunately beyond the scope of individual effort, especially in our crowded cities; but much good could be done if public bodies would only do their duty.