Part 33
Among the suitable vegetables, I may name a sort of perennial spinach which yields a wonderful amount of produce on a small area. Four years ago I took the house in which I now reside, and found the garden overgrown with a weed that appeared like beet, the leaves being much larger than ordinary spinach. I tried in vain to eradicate it, then gave some leaves to my fowls. They ate them greedily. After this I had some boiled, and found that the supposed weed is an excellent spinach, which may be sown broadcast in thick patches, without any interspaces, and cut down again and again all the year round, fresh leaves springing up from the roots until the autumn, when it throws up tall flowering stems, and yields an abundant crop of seeds. I have some now, self-sown, that have survived the whole of the late severe winter, while turnip-tops, cabbages, and everything else have perished. I have sown the ordinary spinach seed in the usual manner in rows, and comparing it with the self-sown dense patches of this intruder, find the latter produces, square yard against square yard, six or eight times as much of available eatable crop.
None of my friends who are amateur gardeners know this variety; but a few days since, I called on Messrs. James Carter and Co., the wholesale seedsmen of Holborn, and described it. They gave me a packet of what they call “Perpetual spinach beet,” which, as may be seen by comparison with the seeds of those I have here of my own growing, is probably the same. Messrs. Carter and Co. tell me that the plant is very little known, and the seed scarce from want of cultivation and demand. I therefore step so far aside to describe and recommend it as specially suited for obtaining large crops on small areas.[33]
I also recommend a mode of growing cabbages that I have found very profitable, viz., to sow the seed broadcast in richly manured beds or patches and leave the plants crowding together; cut them down while very young, without destroying the centre bud; let them sprout again and again. They thus yield a succession of crops, every leaf of which is eatable. This, instead of transplanting and growing large plants, which, however desirable for sale in the market, are far less profitable for home use. Celery may be grown in like manner, and cut down young and green for boiling.
Some collateral advantages may be fairly anticipated in cases where the back-yard is fully enclosed by the canvas.
In the first place, the air coming into the house from the back will be more or less filtered from the grimy irritant particles with which our London atmosphere is loaded, besides obtaining the oxygen given off by the growing plants, and the ozone which recent investigations have shown to be produced where aromatic plants—such as kitchen herbs—are growing. Lavender, which is very hardy, and spreads spontaneously, might be grown for this purpose.
Back-doors might be left open for ventilation, without danger of intrusion or of slamming by gusts of wind. The air thus admitted would be tempered both in summer and winter. By wetting the canvas, which may easily be done by means of a small garden engine, or hand syringe, the exceptionally hot summer days that are so severely felt in London might be moderated to a considerable extent. The air under the canvas being cooler than that in front would enter from below, while the warmer air would be pushed upwards and outwards to the front.
Although such conservatories may be erected, as already stated, by artisans or other tenants of small houses, I do not advocate dependence on this; but, on the contrary, regard them as more properly constituting landlord’s fixtures, and recommend their erection by owners of small house property in London and other large towns. A workman who will pay a trifle extra for such a garden, is likely to be a better and more permanent tenant than one who is content with the slovenly squallor of ordinary back premises.
I base this opinion on some experience of holding small houses in the outskirts of Birmingham (Talbot Street, Winson Green.) These have small gardens, while most of those around have none. They are held by weekly tenure, and, during eighteen years, I have not lost a week’s rent from voids; the men who would otherwise shift their dwelling when they change workshops, prefer to remain and walk some distance rather than lose their little garden crops; and when obliged to leave, have usually found me another tenant, a friend who has paid them a small tenant-right premium for what is left in the garden, or for the privilege of getting a house with such a garden.
A small garden is one of the best rivals to the fascinations of the tap-room; the strongest argument in favor of my canvas conservatories, and that which I reserve as the last, is that they are likely to become the poor man’s drawing-room, where he may spend his summer evenings, smoke his pipe, contemplate his growing plants, and show them in rivalry to his friends, rather than slink away from an unattractive home to seek the sensual excitements that ruin so many of our industrious fellow-countrymen.
As above stated, I have not been able practically to test the filtering capabilities of the canvas, owing to my residence out of town, but since the above was written, _i.e._, on last Wednesday evening, I visited the Houses of Parliament, where, as I had been told, the ventilation arrangements include some devices for filtering the air by cotton, wool or otherwise.
I was much interested on finding that the long experience and many trials of Dr. Percy and his assistant engineer, Mr. Prim, have resulted in the selection of the identical material which I have chosen, and with which the above-described experiments have been made. A wall of such canvas surrounds a lower region of the Houses, and all the air that is destined to have the privilege of being breathed by British legislators is passed through this vertical screen, for the purpose of separating from it the sooty impurities that constitute the special abomination of our metropolitan atmosphere, and that of our great manufacturing towns. The quantity of sooty matter thus arrested is shown by the fact that it is found necessary to take the screens down once a week and wash them, the wash water coming away in a semi-inky condition.
I anticipate that the conservatory filters will rapidly clog, and, therefore, require washing. This may easily be done by means of a jet from a hand-syringe directed from within outwards, especially if the slope of the roof is considerable, which is to be recommended. The filtering screen of the Houses of Parliament is made by sewing the canvas edges together, to form a large continuous area, then edging the borders of this with tape, and stretching it bodily on to a stout frame. This method may be found preferable to that which I proposed above, and cheaper than I have estimated, as only very light intermediate cross-pieces would thus be required, merely to prevent bagging, the parliamentary quartering above described being nine feet apart instead of three. This would reduce the cost of timber to about one half of the above estimate.[34] The perpendicular walls of a conservatory, where such are required, may certainly be made thus, and I think the roof also, if the slope is considerable. Or, if in demand, the material may be made of greater width than the three feet.
So far, I have only mentioned back-yards; but, besides these, there are many very melancholy front areas, called “gardens,” attached to good houses in some of the once suburban, but now internal regions of London, where the houses stand some distance back from the formerly rural highway. These spaces might be cheaply enclosed with canvas, and cultivated as kitchen gardens, orchard houses, flower gardens, or ferneries, thus forming elegant, refreshing, and profitable vestibules between the highway and the house-door, and also serve as luxurious summer drawing-rooms. The only objection I foresee to these bright enclosures will be their tendency to encourage the consumption of tobacco.
_The Discussion which followed the reading of the preceding paper at the Society of Arts._
A member asked if Mr. Williams had observed the effect of wind and rain on this material?
Mr. W. P. B. Shepheard said he was interested in a large square in London, and he had hoped to hear something about the cultivation of flowers in such places. Last year, they tried the experiment with several varieties of flower seeds, and they came up and bloomed well in the open ground without any protection whatever. In most London squares, the difficulty was to find anyone bold enough to try the experiment at all, and nothing but experience would prove what flowers would succeed and what would not. They were so successful last year that several fine bouquets were gathered in July and August, and sent to some of the gardening magazines, who expressed their astonishment that such good results were possible in the circumstances. If flowers would answer, there would, of course, be more encouragement to try vegetables. One of the practical difficulties which occurred to him, with regard to this plan, was that the screens would be somewhat unsightly, and then again they might shrink, from alteration in the temperature and getting wet and dry. He would repeat, however, that, for a very small expense in seeds, a very good show of hardy annuals and perennials might be obtained in July and August even in London.
Mr. C. Cooke said a flower-garden had recently been opened in Drury Lane, on the site of an old churchyard, to which children were admitted; and he wished a similar arrangement might be made in some of the squares in crowded neighborhoods, such as Golden Square, and especially in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. There were lots of children playing about in the streets, and he wished the good example set by the Templars might be followed.
Mr. Liggins, as an old member of the Royal Horticultural Society, felt a great interest in this subject. Among his poorer neighbors in the district of Kensington, cottage and window gardening had been encouraged for some years past, prizes having been awarded to those who were most successful, much to their gratification. This was a novel idea, but he felt quite sure that it would enable those who adopted it to obtain the crops which had been described. There were many collateral advantages which it would bestow on the working classes if largely followed by them, especially the one mentioned by Mr. Williams, that those who devoted their spare time to the cultivation of fruit and flowers would not be so open to the attractions of the public-house. When traveling through the United States some years ago, he was much struck with the difference in appearance of the houses in districts where the Maine liquor law was in force, and soon learned to distinguish where it was adopted by the clean, cheerful look of the workmen’s dwellings, the neatness of the gardens, and the presence of trees and flowers which, in other districts, were wanting. He was not a teetotaler himself, and was not advocating such restrictions, but he could not help noticing the contrast; and he felt sure that in all our large towns great progress in civilization and morals would be effected if such an attraction were offered to the working classes. He believed there was so much intelligence and good sense among them, that if they only knew what could be done in this way they would attempt it; and when an Englishman attempted anything, he generally succeeded.
Mr. William Botly said they were much indebted to Mr. Williams for having called attention to this important subject. He quite agreed with the observations of the last speaker, for his own experience in building cottages showed him that the addition of a piece of garden ground had an excellent effect on the social, moral, and religious welfare of the inmates. It kept them from the public-house, and the children who were brought up to hoe and weed their parents’ gardens turned out the most industrious laborers on his property. He had known of instances where houses had been built with flat concrete roofs, and covered in with glass, so as to form a conservatory, in which vegetables and salads grow very well, and he believed the cost was little, if any, more than ordinary slating.
The Chairman (Lord Alfred Churchill) in moving a vote of thanks to Mr. Williams, said there could be no doubt that if his suggestion were adopted it would lead to great economy, and have many other attractions for the working classes. During the last few years they had heard a good deal about floriculture in windows, and no doubt it was an excellent proposal, but if they could add to this the growth of vegetables it would have economical advantages also. The proposal to erect temporary conservatories on the roofs of some of these small houses was an admirable one. He saw no reason why you should not have a peach tree growing against many a tall chimney; you would only want a metal-lined tub filled with a good mold; the warmth of the chimney would aid in promoting the growth of the tree, and it could be protected from the smoke and frost by this canvas. One point he should like to know was, whether the fabric would not become rotted by the weather, and perhaps it might be protected by tanning, or some chemical preparation. The effect of the canvas in maintaining an equable temperature was a great consideration; the difference stated by Mr. Williams, of about five degrees in winter, in many cases would be just enough to save the life of a plant. Practical gardeners knew the value of placing a covering over a peach tree in early spring to keep off the frosts, and also to protect it from the attacks of birds. It was also a curious fact that even a slip of wood or slate a few inches wide, put on the top of a wall to which a fruit tree was nailed, acted as a protection from frost. He trusted that Mr. Williams’ idea would find favor among the working classes, and thought it was a subject the Royal Horticultural Society might well take up and offer prizes for. He hoped in a short time, when that Society had passed through a crisis which was impending, it might emerge in a condition to devote attention to this matter. It already offered prizes for small suburban flower-shows, but had not yet turned its attention to the larger class aimed at by Mr. Williams.
Mr. Botly said he had forgotten to mention that he had a friend, a very excellent gardener, who always loosened his fruit trees from the wall for about three weeks before the time of blooming. The consequence was, they did not get so much heat from the wall, and the bloom was two or three weeks later in forming. After the spring frosts, the trees were again nailed up close, and he never failed in getting an excellent crop, when his neighbors often had none.
Mr. Trewby wished to caution those who read the paper against using what was commonly known as paperhangers’ canvas, because it was made of two materials, hemp and jute, and if a piece of it were put into water it would soon be nothing but a lot of strings, the jute being all dissolved. It did very well for paper-hanging, but would be quite unsuitable for this purpose.[35]
The vote of thanks having been passed—
Mr. Williams, in reply, said he had had a piece of this canvas stretched on a frame exposed all the winter, and the only result was to make it rather dirty. He stretched it as tightly as he could in putting it on, but when it got wet it became still more tight, and gave a little again on becoming dry. It bore the weight of the snow which had fallen very well, and two or three spadefuls had been added to try it. He had a note from Mr. Prim, saying that at the Houses of Parliament the screens last about two sessions, being washed once a week, and the destruction is due to the wringing. But there is really no occasion for this, for if you syringe the stuff well from the inside, you make it sufficiently clear to allow the air and light to pass through, and it would probably last many years. He had tried the experiment of dipping it in a very weak solution of tar, but this had the effect of matting together the fine filaments, so that it did not act so effectually as a strainer. It acted best when wet, because the fine particles of soot adhered to it, and moist weather was just the time when the greatest quantity of soot fell. It might be easily tried in London squares to aid in the growth of flowers; he found that the cabbage plants which were so protected throve remarkably well, and he had no doubt that if flowers were planted and a screen put over them until they were ready to bloom, it would be a great advantage. The action of a little peat on the top of a wall to protect fruit trees is very simple, and the explanation was afforded by the experiments of Dr. Wells on dew. The frosts which did the greatest mischief, were due to radiation from the ground on clear nights; and it would be found that if one thermometer were placed in a garden under an umbrella, and another on the open ground near it, the differences of temperature would be very considerable; on cloudy nights there was very little difference. Last night there was only a difference of 2°, but a few nights before it was 6°. The period of greatest cold might not probably be more than hour, but it would be sufficient to do a great deal of mischief, and anything which would check the radiation would have the required effect. In the case of loosening the fruit trees from the wall there was, probably, a double action; it prevented the tree being forced on by the warmth or the wall in the daytime, and also avoided the chilling effect at night, a rough wall being a good radiator, and sinking to a low temperature. He did not think there was much danger to be apprehended from wind, because the canvas being so open, the wind would pass freely through it; but he had not seen it subjected to any violent gale.
SOLIDS, LIQUIDS, AND GASES.
The growth of accurate knowledge is continually narrowing, and often obliterating, the broad lines of distinction that have been drawn between different classes of things. I well remember when our best naturalists regarded their “species” of plants and animals as fundamental and inviolable institutions, separated by well-defined boundaries that could not be crossed. Darwin has upset all this, and now we cannot even draw a clear, sharp line between the animal and vegetable kingdoms. The chemist is even crossing the boundary between these and the mineral kingdom, by refuting the once positive dictum that organic substances (_i.e._, the compounds ordinarily formed in the course of vegetable or animal growth) cannot be produced directly from dead matter by any chemical device. Many of such organic compounds are now made in the laboratory from mineral materials.
We all know, broadly, what are the differences between solids, liquids, and gases, and, until lately, they have been very positively described as the three distinct states or modes of existence of matter. Mr. Crookes suggests a fourth. I will not discuss this at present, but merely consider the three old-established claimants to distinctive existence.
A solid is usually defined as a body made up of particles which hold together rigidly or immovably, in contradistinction to a fluid, of which the particles move freely over each other. “Fluids” is the general term including both gases and liquids, both being alike as regards the mobility of their particles. At present, let us confine our attention to liquids and solids.
The theoretical or perfect fluid which is imagined by the mathematician as the basis of certain abstract reasonings has no real existence. He assumes (and the assumption is legitimate and desirable, provided its imaginary character is always remembered) that the supposed particles move upon each other with perfect freedom, without any friction or other impediment; but, as a matter of fact, all liquids exert some amount of resistance to their own flowing; they are more or less _viscous_, have more or less of that sluggishness in their obedience to the law of finding their own level which we see so plainly displayed by treacle or castor oil.
This viscosity, added to the friction of the liquid against the solid on which it rests, or in which it is enclosed, may become, even in the case of water, a formidable obstacle to its flow. Thus, if we make a hole in the side of a tank at a depth of 16 feet below the surface, the water will spout from that hole at the rate of 32 feet per second, but if we connect with this hole a long horizontal pipe of the same internal diameter as the hole, and then observe the flow from the outlet of the pipe, we shall find its velocity visibly diminished, and we shall be greatly deceived if we make arrangements for carrying swift-flowing water thus to any great distances.
Three or four years ago an attempt was made to supersede the water-carts of London by laying down on each side of the road a horizontal pipe, perforated with a row of holes opening towards the horse-way. The water was to be turned on, and from these holes it was to jet out to the middle of the road from each side, and thus water it all. I watched the experiment made near the Bank of England.
Instead of spouting across the road from all these holes, as it would have done from any _one_ of them, it merely dribbled; the reason being that, in order to supply them all, the water must run through the whole of the long pipe with considerable velocity, and the viscosity and friction to be overcome in doing this nearly exhausted the whole force of water-head pressure. Many other similar blunders have been made by those who have sought to convey water-power to a distance by means of a pipe of such diameter as should demand a rapid flow through a long pipe.
The resistance which water offers to the stroke of the swimmer or the pull of the rower is partly due to its viscosity, and partly to the uplifting or displacement of some of the water. If it were perfectly fluid, our movements within it, and those of fishes, etc., would be curiously different; the whole face of this globe would be strangely altered in many respects.
I will not now follow up this idea, but leave it as a suggestion for the reader to work out for himself, by considering what would remain undone upon the earth if water flowed perfectly, without any internal resistance, or friction upon the earth’s surface.
The degrees of approach to perfect fluidity vary greatly with different liquids.
Is there any such a thing as an absolute solid, or a body that has no degree of fluidity, the particles or parts of which will admit of no change of their relative positions, no movement upon each other without fracture of the mass? This would constitute perfect _rigidity_, or the opposite to _fluidity_.
Take a piece of copper or soft iron wire, about one eighth of an inch in diameter, or thereabouts, and bend it backwards and forwards a few times as rapidly as possible, but without breaking it; then, without loss of time, feel the portion that has been bent. It is hot—painfully so—if the experiment is smartly made. How may this be explained?
It is evident that in the act of bending there must have been a displacement of the relative positions of the particles of the metal, and the force demanded for the bending indicated their resistance to this movement upon each other; or, in other words, that there was friction between them, or something equivalent to such internal friction, and thus the mechanical force exerted in the bending was converted into heat-force.