Scientific American, Vol. XXXIX.—No. 6. [New Series.], August 10, 1878

Part 2

Chapter 24,198 wordsPublic domain

BY S. P. LANGLEY, ALLEGHENY OBSERVATORY, PA.*

When, with a powerful telescope, we return to the study of the sun's surface, we meet a formidable difficulty which our first simple means did not present. This arises from the nearly constant tremors of our own atmosphere, through which we have to look. It is not that the tremor does not exist with the smaller instrument, but now our higher magnifying power exaggerates it, causes everything to appear unsteady and blurry, however good the glass, and makes the same kind of trouble for the eye which we should experience if we tried to read very fine print across the top of a hot stove, whence columns of tremulous air were rising. There is no remedy for this, unless it is assiduous watching and infinite patience, for in almost every day there will come one or more brief intervals, lasting sometimes minutes, sometimes only seconds, during which the air seems momentarily tranquil. We must be on the watch for hours, to seize these favorable moments, and, piecing together what we have seen in them, in the course of time we obtain such knowledge of the more curious features of the solar surface as we now possess.

The eye aches after gazing for a minute steadily at the full moon, and the sun's light is from 300,000 to 600,000 times brighter than full moon light, while its heat is in still greater proportion. The object lens of such a telescope as the equatorial at Allegheny is 13 inches in diameter, and it is such light, and such heat, concentrated by it, that we have to gaze on. The best contrivance so far found for diminishing both, and without which our present acquaintance with the real appearance and character of sunspots would not have been gained, depends upon a curious property of light, discovered by a French physicist, Malus, in the beginning of this century. Let A (Fig. 10) be a piece of plane unsilvered glass, receiving the solar rays and reflecting them to a second similar one, B, which itself reflects them again in the direction C. Of course, since the glass is transparent, most of the rays will pass through A, and not be reflected. Of those which reach B again most will pass through, so that not a hundredth part of the original beam reaches C. This then, is so far a gain; but of itself of little use, since, such is the solar brilliancy, that even this small fraction would, to an eye at C, appear blindingly bright. Now, if we rotate B about the line joining it with A, keeping always the same reflecting angle with it, it might naturally be supposed that the light would merely be reflected in a new direction unchanged in quantity.

But according to the curious discovery of Malus this is not what happens. What does happen is that the second glass, after being given a quarter turn (though always kept at the same angle), seems to lose its power of reflection almost altogether. The light which comes from it now is diminished enormously, and yet nothing is distorted or displaced; everything is seen correctly if enough light remains to see it by at all, and the ray is said to have been "polarized by reflection." It would be out of place to enter here on the cause of the phenomenon; the fact is certain, and is a very precious one, for the astronomer can now diminish the sun's light till it is bearable by the weakest eye, without any distortion of what he is looking at, and without disturbing the natural tints by colored glasses. In practice, a third and sometimes a fourth reflector, each of a wedge shaped, optically plane piece of unsilvered glass, are thus introduced, and by a simple rotation of the last one the light is graded at pleasure, so that with such an instrument, called "the polarizing eyepiece" (Fig. A), I have often watched the sun's magnified image for four or five hours together with no more distress to the eye than in reading a newspaper.

With this, in favorable moments, we see that the sun's surface away from the spots, everywhere, is made up of hundreds of thousands of small, intensely brilliant bodies, that seem to be floating in a gray medium, which, though itself no doubt very bright, appears dark by comparison. What these little things are is still uncertain; whatever they are, they are the immediate principal source of the sun's light and heat. To get an idea of their size we must resort to some more delicate means of measurement than we used in the case of the watch. The filar micrometer consists essentially of two excessively fine strands of cobwebs (or, rather, of spider's cocoon), called technically "wires," stretched parallel to each other and placed just at the focus of the telescope. Suppose one of them to be fixed and the second to be movable (keeping always parallel to the first) by means of a screw, having perhaps one hundred threads to the inch, and a large drum shaped head divided into one hundred equal parts, so that moving this head by one division carries the second "wire" 1/10000 part of an inch nearer to the first. Motions smaller than this can clearly be registered, but it will be evident that everything here really depends upon the accuracy of the screw. The guide screw of the best lathe is a coarse piece of work by comparison with "micrometer" screws as now constructed (especially those for making the "gratings" to be described later), for recent uses of them demand perhaps the most accurate workmanship of anything in mechanics--the maker of one which will pass some lately invented tests is entitled at any rate to call himself "a workman."

Since the "wires" are stretched precisely in the focus, where the principal image of the sun is formed, and move in it, they, and the features of the surface, form one picture, as magnified by the eye lens, so that they appear as if moving about on the sun itself. We can first set them far enough apart, for instance, to take in the whole of a spot, and then by bringing them together measure its apparent diameter, in ten thousandths of an inch. Then, measuring the diameter of the whole sun, we have evidently the proportion that one bears to the other, and hence the means of easily calculating the real size. A powerful piece of clockwork, attached to the equatorial, keeps it slowly rotating on its axis, at the same angular rate as that with which the sun moves in the sky, so that any spot or other object there will seem to stay fixed with relation to the "wires," if we choose, all day long. The picture of "wires," spots, and all, may be projected on a screen if desired; and Fig. 11 shows the field of view, with the micrometer wires lying across a "spot," so seen on the 6th of March, 1873. Part of a cambric needle with the end of a fine thread is represented also as being projected on the screen along with the "wires" to give a better idea of the delicacy of the latter.

Now we may measure, if we please, the size of one of those bright objects, which have just been spoken of as being countable by hundreds of thousands. These "little things" are then seen to be really of considerable size, measuring from one to three seconds of arc, so that (a second of arc here being over 400 miles) the average surface of each individual of these myriads is found to be considerably larger than Great Britain. Near the edge of the disk, under favorable circumstances, they appear to rise up through the obscuring atmosphere, which darkens the limb, and gathered here and there in groups of hundreds, to form the white cloudlike patches (_faculæ_), which may sometimes be seen even with a spy-glass--"something in the sun brighter than the sun itself," to employ the expression by which Huyghens described them nearly two hundred years ago. They are too minute and delicate objects to be rendered at all in our engraving; but this is true also of much of the detail to be seen at times in the spots themselves. The wood cuts make no pretense to do more than give an outline of the more prominent features, of which we are now about to speak. The wonderful beauty of some of their details must be taken on trust, from the writer's imperfect description of what no pencil has ever yet rendered and what the photograph has not yet seized.

Bearing this in mind, let us now suppose that while using the polarizing eyepiece on the part of the spot distinguished by the little circle, we have one of those rare opportunities when we can, by the temporary steadiness of our tremulous atmosphere, use the higher powers of the telescope and magnify the little circle till it appears as in Fig. 12. We have now nearly the same view as if we were brought close to the surface of the sun, and suspended over this part of the spot. All the faint outer shade, seen in the smaller views (the _penumbra_) is seen to be made up of long white filaments, twisted into curious ropelike forms, while the central part is like a great flame, ending in fiery spires. Over these hang what look like clouds, such as we sometimes see in our highest sky, but more transparent than the finest lace vail would be, and having not the "fleecy" look of our clouds, but the appearance of being filled with almost infinitely delicate threads of light. Perhaps the best idea of what is so hard to describe, because so unlike anything on earth, is got by supposing ourselves to look _through_ successive vails of white lace, filled with flower-like patterns, at some great body of white flame beyond, while between the spires of the flame and separating it from the border are depths of shade passing into blackness. With all this, there is something crystalline about the appearance, which it is hard to render an idea of--frost-figures on a window pane may help us as an image, though imperfect. In fact the intense whiteness of everything is oddly suggestive of something very cold, rather than very hot, as we know it really. I have had much the same impression when looking into the open mouth of a puddling furnace at the lumps of pure white iron, swimming half-melted in the grayer fluid about them. Here, however, the temperature leaves nothing solid, nothing liquid even; the iron and other metals of which we know these spot-forms do in part at least consist are turned into vapor by the inconceivable heat, and everything we are looking at consists probably of clouds of such vapor; for it is fluctuating and changing from one form into another while we look on. Forms as evanescent almost as those of sunset clouds, and far more beautiful in everything but color, are shifting before us, and here and there we see, or think we see, in the sweep of their curves beyond, evidences of mighty whirlwinds (greater by far than the largest terrestrial cyclone) at work. While we are looking, and trying to make the most of every moment, our atmosphere grows tremulous again, the shapes get confused, there is nothing left distinct but such coarser features as our engraving shows, and the wonderful sight is over. When we consider that this little portion of the spot we have been looking at is larger than the North and South American continents together, and that we could yet see its parts change from minute to minute, it must be evident that the actual motion must have been rapid almost beyond conception--a speed of from 20 to 50 miles a _second_ being commonly observed and sometimes exceeded. (A cannon ball moves less than ¼ of a mile per second.) I have seen a portion of the photosphere, or bright general surface of the sun, drawn into a spot, much as any floating thing would be drawn into a whirlpool, and then, though it occupied by measurement over 3,000,000 miles in area, completely break up and change so as to be unrecognizable in less than twenty minutes.

When we come to discuss the subject of the sun's heat, we shall find that the temperature of a blast furnace or of the oxyhydrogen blowpipe is low compared with that which obtains all over such a vast region, and remembering this, it is evident that its disappearance is a cataclysm of which the most tremendous volcanic outburst here gives no conception. We cannot, by any terrestrial comparison, describe it, for we have no comparison for it in human experience. If we try to picture such an effect on the earth, we may say in another's words that these solar whirlwinds are such as, "coming down upon us from the north, would in thirty seconds after they had crossed the St. Lawrence be in the Gulf of Mexico, carrying with them the whole surface of the continent in a mass, not simply of ruin, but of glowing vapor, in which the vapors arising from the dissolution of the materials composing the cities of Boston, New York, and Chicago would be mixed in a single indistinguishable cloud."

These vast cavities then in the sun we call spots are not solid things, and not properly to be compared even to masses of slag or scoria swimming on a molten surface. They are rather rents in that bright cloud surface of the sun which we call the photosphere, and through which we look down to lower regions. Their shape may be very rudely likened to a funnel with sides at first slowly sloping (the _penumbra_), and then suddenly going down into the central darkness (the _umbra_). This central darkness has itself gradations of shade, and cloud forms may be seen there obscurely glowing with a reddish tinge far down its depths, but we never see to any solid bottom, and the hypothesis of a habitable sun far within the hot surface, suggested by Sir William Herschel, is now utterly abandoned. We are able now to explain in part that mysterious feature in the sun's rotation before insisted on, for if the sun be not a solid or a liquid, but a mass of glowing vapor, it is evidently possible that one part of it may turn faster than another. _Why_ it so turns, we repeat, no one knows, but the fact that it does is now seen to bear the strongest testimony to the probable gaseous form of the sun throughout its mass--at any rate, to the gaseous or vaporous nature of everything we see. We must not forget, however, that under such enormous temperature and pressure as prevail there the conditions may be--in fact, must be--very different from any familiar to us here, so that when we speak of "clouds," and use like expressions, we are to be understood as implying rather an analogy than an exact resemblance.

We must expect, with the great advances photography has lately made, to know more of this part of our subject (which we may call solar meteorology) at the next spot maximum than ever before, and by that time it may be hoped that some of the wonderful forms described above so imperfectly will have been caught for us by the camera.

* For parts 1 and 2 see SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN for July 20 and July 27.

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IN the notice in our issue for July 27 of a new screw cutting lathe made by Messrs. Goodnow & Wightman, the address should have been 176 Washington street instead of 128, and the diameter of the tail spindle, which was given as 5/16, should have been 15/16 inch.

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THE Olympia (Wyoming Territory) _Standard_ announces that a company has been formed there to bring ice from a glacier. The deposit covers a number of acres, is seventy or eighty feet deep, and is supposed to contain a hundred thousand or more tons, some of which may have been there as many years. The ice can be cut and sold at one and one half cents a pound, and by the ship load at five dollars a ton.

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=MECHANICAL PUDDLING IN SWEDEN.=

The accompanying engravings, which we take from _Iron_, give plan and section of the puddling apparatus invented by Mr. Oestlund, as used at the Finspong Ironworks. The gas generator, A, is of the common Swedish type, as used for charcoal. The tube, _k_, conducts the gases into the refining pot, _a_. This pot has a lining of refinery slag, which is melted, as the apparatus revolves, to get it to adhere to the sides. The revolution of the pot, _a_, on its axis, _d_, is effected by the action of the beveled wheels, _b_ and _b'_, and the pulley, _c_, which takes from an iron chain the power given off by a turbine. The spindle, _d_, is supported in the bearings, _e_ and _e', c_ carrying a pair of trunnions which form the axis of oscillation, and allow the apparatus to rise or fall, the whole of this mechanism being supported on the plummer blocks, _f f_. One of the trunnions, _e''_, is prolonged so as to form the axis of the beveled wheel, _b_, and the pulley, _c_, the latter sliding along the trunnion so as to put _b_ in or out of gear. The bush, _e_ is tied by means of the stay, _g'_ to the upper end of the toothed segment, _g_, the lower extremity of which is connected with the second bush at the end of the spindle. By means of the pinion, _h_, revolving on standards, _i i_, and the segmental rack, _g_, the pot can be raised or lowered without interfering with the action of the beveled wheels.

The gas from the generator is brought to the mouth of the pot by the tubes, _k_ and _m_. The air necessary for the combustion of the gas is brought in by a tube, _l_, branching from the air main, _l''_. The air tube, _l_, passes into the gas tube and is continued concentrically within the latter. The gas and air tubes both have joints at _m'_ and _m''_. By means of the bar, _n_, which has a counterpoise to keep the moving parts in position, the tubes can be brought from or toward the mouth of the pot, so as to make it free of access to the workman. With a key fitting on the stem, _n'_, the tubes can be turned in _m'_, so as to give the currents of gas and air a more or less oblique direction. To screen the workmen from the heat of the pot a disk of iron, _o_, lined with fire clay on the side next the pot, is fitted to the end of the tubes.

Before running the metal into the pot, the latter must be heated, to such a degree that the slag lining is pasty or semi-fluid at its surface. Generally an hour and a half will be spent in heating with gas to this point. There should be sufficient live coal in the pot when the gas is first let in to keep up its combustion; should it be extinguished by excess of air or gas, it must be relit. As soon as the pot begins to get red hot the full heat can be put on.

The gas generator is tended in the usual way with the ordinary precautions. To keep ashes and dust out of the gas tube, lumps of charcoal are heaped up to the height of the top of the flue. The wind pressure for the generator was 33 to 41 millimeters of mercury, that of the wind for the combustion of the gas (at Finspong the blast is not heated) being only 16½ millimeters. The pressure of the gas in the tube near the pot was 6.2 millimeters of mercury. The method of working, viewed chemically, does not sensibly differ from puddling; although giving as good, perhaps better, results at a much less cost. There are three principal periods in the operation: 1. The period before boiling. 2. The boiling itself. 3. The end of the boiling, and the formation of balls. When cast metal is poured into the pot a shovelful or two of refinery slag is added. The temperature of the bath is thus brought down; it thickens and boils, the pot revolving at the rate of 30 or 40 revolutions a minute. The metal is worked with a rabble, either to cool it or to get the slag to incorporate with it, as is done in puddling. Note must be taken of the temperature of the melted metal and that of the pot, at the moment of charging, the heat during working being regulated accordingly by increasing or diminishing the inflow of air and gas. When circumstances are favorable, boiling begins five minutes after the metal is run into the pot, and it lasts about ten minutes.

Boiling having begun, the batch swells, the iron forms, granulates, and seems to cling to the rabble and the sides of the pot. The rotation of the pot is continued, as well as the working, to separate out parts which are not yet refined; but no more cold cinder is put in. While boiling goes on the temperature is regulated so that the pig does not cling to the side of the pot during a complete revolution, but so that the particles next the side fall back into the bath when the side comes uppermost in the revolution. The heat is raised a little when the iron can be felt by the rabble to be completely refined, when shining lumps make their appearance in the bath, and the iron begins to cling to the walls. At the moment, therefore, that the temperature is brought to its highest point, and the iron begins to agglutinate, the rotation of the pot should be stopped, and either immediately, or after the delay of a couple of minutes, it is removed. If the iron does not ball well, it is not completely refined, and the pot may be started again. If the iron is firm enough already, the isolated particles are exposed to the hottest flame possible, the blast being carried to its maximum. The refining is thus completely finished, and all the particles are agglomerated. The mobility of the gas tube at _m''_ is of advantage in this operation. It is sometimes useful to start the pot again to round up the puddled ball, but it is best if this has been formed with the rabble.

The iron from a charge of 75 kilos. of pig may be divided with advantage into a couple of balls; a third may be made of the iron separated from the walls of the pot. To get out the balls the pot is lowered, and the workmen use tongs, pointed rabble, and hooked bar. If things have gone well the balls ought to come out soft at a welding heat, filled with cinder like puddled balls, but a little more resisting and solid under the hammer. They are forged into bars, and these are at once passed to the rolls. If nothing hinders the balling and shingling, these operations will not consume more than fifteen minutes.

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=Photographic Engraving.=

Scamoni's process is as follows: The original drawings are carefully touched up, so that the whites are as pure and the blacks as intense as possible, and then the negative is taken in the ordinary way, the plate being backed in the camera with damp red blotting paper, to prevent reflection from the camera or back of the plate. The negative is developed in the ordinary manner, intensified by mercuric chloride, and varnished. A positive picture is taken in the camera, the negative being carefully screened from any light coming between it and the lens. This is intensified by pyrogallic acid, and afterward washed with a pure water to which a little ammonia has been added. It is then immersed in mercuric chloride for half an hour, and again intensified with pyrogallic acid. This is repeated several times. When the intensity of the lines is considerable, the plate is well washed, treated with potassium iodide, and finally with ammonia, the image successively appearing yellow, green, brown, and then violet brown. The plate is then thoroughly drained, and the image is treated successively with a solution of platinic chloride, auric chloride, ferrous sulphate, and finally by pyrogallic acid, which has the property of solidifying the metallic deposits. The metallic relief thus obtained is dried over a spirit lamp, and covered with an excessively thin varnish. This varnish, which is evidently a special preparation, retains sufficient tackiness to hold powdered graphite on its surface (the bronze powder now used may be employed instead), which is dusted on in the usual manner. After giving the plate a border of wax, it is placed in an electrotyping bath, and a perfect facsimile in intaglio is obtained, from which prints may be taken in a printing press.

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=A NEW DEEP SEA THERMOMETER.=