a delicate fibre which will permit it to swing easily, like the coil in a mirror galvanometer.
It is indeed a swinging coil of a galvanometer formed with a single turn instead of the many turns usual in the ordinary instruments, and it will be noticed from the sketch that there is a mirror fixed just above the top of the loop.
This coil, then, with the thermo-couple at its lower extremity, is hung between the ends of a powerful magnet much as the fibre of the Einthoven Galvanometer is situated. The alternating current to be measured comes along through the heater. The heater rises in temperature. That warms the lower end of the thermo-couple. Instantly a steady, continuous current begins to circulate round the silver strip which forms the coil, and that, acting just as the current does in the ordinary galvanometer, causes the coil to swing round more or less, which movement is indicated by the spot of light from the mirror. A current as small as twenty micro-amperes (or twenty millionths of an ampere) can be measured in this way.
Mr. Duddell has also perfected a wonderful instrument called an Oscillograph, for the strange purpose of making actual pictures of the rise and fall in volume of current in alternating circuits.
To realise the almost miraculous delicacy of these wonderful instruments we need first of all to construct a mental picture of what takes place in a circuit through which alternating current is passing. The current begins to flow: it gradually increases in volume until it reaches its maximum: then it begins to die away until it becomes nil: then it begins to grow in the opposite direction, increases to its maximum and dies away once more. That cycle of events occurs over and over again at the rate it may be of hundreds of times per second. Now for the actual efficient operation of electrical machinery working on alternating current it is very necessary to know exactly how those changes take place—do they occur gradually, the current growing and increasing in volume regularly and steadily, or irregularly in a jumpy manner? Engineers have a great fancy for setting out such changes in the form of diagrams, in which case the alternations are represented by a wavy line, and it is of much importance to obtain an actual diagram showing not what the changes should be according to theory, but what they really are in practice. It is then possible to see whether the "wave-form" of the current is what it ought to be.
Once again we must turn our thoughts back to the string galvanometer. In that case, it will be remembered, there is a conducting fibre passing between the ends or poles of a powerful magnet, the result of which arrangement is that as the current passes through the fibre it is bent by the action of the magnetic forces produced around it. If the current pass one way, downwards let us say, the fibre will be bent one way, while if it pass upwards it will be bent the opposite way. Suppose then that we have two fibres instead of one, and that we send the current up one and down the other. One will be bent inwards and the other outwards. Then suppose that we fix a little mirror to the centre of the fibres, one side of it being attached to one fibre and the other to the other. As one fibre advances and the other recedes the mirror will be turned more or less. Consequently, as the current flowing in the fibres increases or decreases, or changes in direction, the mirror will be slewed round more or less in one direction or the other.
The spot of light thrown by the mirror will then dance from side to side with every variation, and if it be made to fall upon a rapidly moving strip of photograph paper a wavy line will be drawn upon the paper which will faithfully represent the changes in the current.
In its action, of course, it is not unlike an ordinary mirror galvanometer, but its special feature is in the mechanical arrangement of its parts which enable it to move with sufficient rapidity to follow the rapidly succeeding changes which need to be investigated. It is far less sensitive than, say, a Thomson Galvanometer, but the latter could not respond quickly enough for this particular purpose.
CHAPTER III
THE FUEL OF THE FUTURE
We now enter for a while the realm of organic chemistry, a branch of knowledge which is of supreme interest, since it covers the matters of which our own bodies are constructed, the foods which we eat and the beverages which we drink, besides a host of other things of great value to us.
Although the old division of chemistry into inorganic and organic is still kept up as a matter of convenience, the old boundaries between the two have become largely obliterated. The distinction arose from the fact that there used to be (and are still to a very great extent) a number of highly complex substances the composition of which is known, for they can be analysed, or taken to pieces, but which the wit of man has failed to put together. Consequently these substances could only be obtained from organic bodies. The living trees, or animals, could in some mysterious way bring these combinations about, but man could not. The molecules of these substances are much more complicated than those with which the inorganic chemist deals. The important ingredient in them all is carbon, which with hydrogen, nitrogen and oxygen almost completes the list of the simple elements of which these marvellous substances are compounded. In some cases there appear to be hundreds of atoms in the molecule.
If one takes a glance at a text-book on organic chemistry the pages are seen to be sprinkled all over with C's and O's, N's and H's, with but an occasional symbol for some other element.
Another feature of this branch which cannot fail to strike the casual observer is the queer names which many of the substances possess. Trimethylaniline, triphenylmethane and mononitrophenol are a few examples which happen to occur to the memory, and they are by no means the longest or queerest-sounding.
Another peculiarity about these organic substances is that a number of them, each quite different from the others, can be formed of the same atoms. Certain atoms of hydrogen, sulphur and oxygen form sulphuric acid, and under whatever conditions they combine they never form anything else. On the other hand, there are sixty-six different substances all formed of eight of carbon, twelve of hydrogen and four of oxygen. This can only mean that in such cases as the latter the atoms have different groupings and that when grouped in one way they form one thing, in another way some other thing, and so on. This explains the extreme difficulty which the chemist finds in building up some of these organic substances.
Every now and again we are startled by some eminent man stating that the time will come when we shall be able to make living things, when the laboratory will turn out living cows and sheep, birds and insects, even man with a mind and soul of his own. Yet one cannot but feel that such men, no matter how great their authority, are simply "pulling the public's leg," to use a colloquial expression. For they hopelessly fail to make many of the commonest things. In many cases where they wish to produce an organic substance they have to call in the aid of some living thing to do it for them, even if it be but a humble microbe. For the microbes perform wonderful feats in chemistry, far surpassing those of the most eminent men. Hence the latter very sensibly use the microbe, employ it to work for them, just set things in order and then stand by