Part 2

So, my jewel, while ye’d say thrap-stick, the ox was down, an’ on the gridirons before the life was half out ov him.

Well, to be shure, St Bridget got mighty hungry, as she had walked a long way. She then tould the king that the gentlemen should lave the room, as she could not sit with any one not in ordhers, and they being a little out ov ordher. So, to make themselves agreeable to her ordhers, they quit the hall, and went out to play at hurdles.

When the king recollected who he was goin’ to give dinner to, sez he to himself, ‘Shure no king ought to be above sarvin’ a saint.’ So over he goes to his wife the queen.

‘Dorah,’ sez he, ‘do ye know who’s within?’ ‘Why, to be shure I do,’ sez she; ‘ain’t it Bridheen na Keogue?’

‘Ye’re right,’ sez he, ‘and you know she’s a saint; an’ I think it will be for the good ov our sowls that she kem here to-day. Come, peel off yer muslins, and help me up wid the dinner.’

‘In troth I’ll not,’ sez the queen; ‘shure ye know I’m a black Prospitarian, an’ bleeve nun ov yer saints.’

‘Arrah, nun or yer quare ways,’ sez he; ‘don’t you wish my sowl happy, any how?--an’ if you help me, you will be only helpin’ my sowl to heaven.’

‘Oh, in that case,’ sez she, ‘here’s at ye, and the sooner the betther. But one charge I’d give ye: take care how ye open yer _claub_ about ground: ye know she thought to come round ye twice before.’

So in the twinklin’ ov an eye she went down to the kitchen, an’ put on a prashkeen, an’ was _first dish_ at the table.

The king saw every one lashin’ away at their dinner except Bridget.

‘Arrah, Biddy, honey,’ sez he, ‘why don’t ye help yerself?’

‘Why, thin,’ sez she, ‘the dhoul a bit, bite or sup, I’ll take undher yer roof until ye grant me one favour.’

‘And what is that?’ sez the king; ‘shure ye know a king must stand to his word was it half his kingdom, and how do I know but ye want to chouse me out ov it: let me know first what ye want.’

‘Well, thin, Mr King O’Dermot,’ sez she, ‘all I want is a taste ov ground to sow a few pays in.’

‘Well, an’ how much do ye want, yer reverence,’ sez he, all over ov a thrimble, betune his wife’s dark looks, and the curse he expected from Bridget if he refused.

‘Not much,’ sez she, ‘for the present. You don’t know how I’m situated. All the pilgrims going to Lough Dhearg are sent to me to put the pays in their brogues, an’ ye know I havn’t as much ground as would sow a pint; but if ye only give me about fifty acres, I’ll be contint.’

‘Fifty acres!’ roared the king, stretching his neck like a goose.

‘Fifty acres!’ roared the queen, knitting her brows; ‘shure that much ground would fill their pockets as well as their brogues.’

‘There ye’re out ov it,’ said the saint; ‘why, it wouldn’t be half enough if they got their dhue according to their sins; but I’ll lave it to yerself.’

‘How much will ye give?’

‘Not an acre,’ said the queen.

‘Oh, Dorah,’ sed the king, ‘let me give the crathur some.’

‘Not an _inch_,’ sed the queen, ‘if I’m to be misthress here.’

‘Oh, I beg pardon,’ sez the saint; ‘so, Mr King O’Dermot, you are undher petticoat government I see; but maybe I won’t match ye for all that. Now, take my word, you shall go on penance to Lough Dhearg before nine days is about; and instead ov pays ye shall have pebble stones and swan shot, in yer brogues. But it’s well for you, Mrs Queen, that ye’re out ov my reach, or I’d send you there barefooted, with nothing on but yer stockings.’

When the king heard this, he fell all ov a thrimble. ‘Oh, Dorah,’ sez he, ‘give the crathur a little taste ov ground to satisfy her.’

‘No, not as much as she could play ninepins on,’ sez she, shakin’ her fist and grindin’ her teeth together; ‘and I hope she may send you to Lough Dhearg, as she sed she would.’

‘Why, thin, have ye no feeling for one ov yer own sex?’ sez the saint. ‘I’ll go my way this minit, iv ye only give me as much as my shawl will cover.’

‘Oh, that’s a horse ov another colour,’ sez the queen; ‘you may have that, with a heart and a half. But you know very well if I didn’t watch that fool ov a man, he’d give the very nose off his face if a girl only axt him how he was.’

Well, sur, when the king heard this, he grew as merry as a cricket. ‘Come, Biddy,’ sez he, ‘we mustn’t have a dhry bargain, any how.’

‘Oh, ye’ll excuse me, Mr King O’Dermot,’ sez she; ‘I never drink stronger nor wather.’

‘Oh, son ov Fingal,’ exclaimed the king, ‘do ye hear this, and it Pathrick’s day!’

‘Oh, I intirely forgot that,’ sez she. ‘Well, then, for fear ye’d say I was a bad fellow, I’ll just taste. Shedhurdh.’

Well, sur, after the dhough-an-dheris she went home very well pleased that she was to get ever a taste ov ground at all, and she promised the king to make his pinance light, and that she would boil the pays for him, as she did with young men ov tendher conshinses; but as to ould hardened sinners, she’d keep the pays till they’d be as stale as a sailor’s bisket.

Well, to be shure, when she got home she set upwards ov a hundhred nuns at work to make her shawl, during which time she was never heard of. At last, afther six months’ hard labour, they got it finished.

‘Now,’ sez she, ‘it’s time I should go see the king, that he may come and see that I take no more than my right. So, taking no one with her barrin’ herself and _one_ nun, off she set.

The king and queen were just sitting down to tay at the parlour window when she got there.

‘Whoo! talk of the dhoul and he’ll appear,’ sez he. ‘Why, thin, Biddy honey, it’s an ago since we saw ye. Sit down; we’re just on the first cup. Dorah and myself were afther talkin’ about ye, an’ thought ye forgot us intirely. Well, did ye take that bit ov ground?’

‘Indeed I’d be very sorry to do the likes behind any one’s back. You must come to-morrow and see it measured.’

‘Not I, ’pon my sowkins,’ sed the king: ‘do ye think me so mane as to doubt yer word?’

‘Pho! pho!’ sed the queen, ‘such a taste is not worth talkin’ ov; but, just to honour ye, we shall attind in state to-morrow. Sit down.’

She took up her station betune the king an’ queen: the purty side ov her face was next the king, an’ the ugly side next the queen.

‘I can’t be jealous ov you, at any rate,’ sed the queen to herself, as she never saw her veil off before.

‘Oh, murther!’ sez the king, ‘what a pity ye’re a saint, and Dorah to be alive. Such a beauty!’

Just as he was starin’, the queen happened to look over at a looking-glass, in which she saw Biddy’s pretty side.

‘Hem!’ sez she, sippin’ her cup. ‘Dermot,’ sez she, ‘it’s very much out ov manners to be stuck with ladies at their tay. Go take a shaugh ov the dhudheen, while we talk over some affairs ov state.’

Begor, sur, the king was glad ov the excuse to lave them together, in the hopes St Bridget would convart his wife.

Well, sur, whatever discoorse they had, I disremember, but the queen came down in great humour to wish the saint good night, an’ promised to be on the road the next day to Kildare.

‘Faix,’ sez the saint, ‘I was nigh forgettin’ my gentility to wish the king good night. Where is he?’

‘Augh, and shure myself doesn’t know, barrin’ he’s in the kitchen.’

‘In the kitchen!’ exclaimed the saint; ‘oh fie!’

‘Ay, indeed, just cock yer eye,’ sez the queen, ‘to the key-hole: that dhudheen is his excuse. I can’t keep a maid for him.’

‘Oh! is that the way with him?--never fear: I’ll make his pinance purty sharp for that. At any rate call him out an’ let us part in friends.’

So, sur, afther all the compliments wor passed, the king sed he should go see her a bit ov the road, as it was late: so off he went. The moon had just got up, an’ he walked alongside the saint at the ugly side; but when he looked round to praise her, an’ pay her a little compliment, he got sich a fright that he’d take his oath it wasn’t her at all, so he was glad to get back to the queen.

Well, sur, next morning the queen ordhered the long car to be got ready, with plenty ov clean straw in it, as in those times they had no coaches; then regulated her life guards, twelve to ride before and twelve behind, the king at one side and the chief butler at the other, for without the butler she couldn’t do at all, as every mile she had to stop the whole retinue till she’d get refreshment. In the meantime, St Bridget placed her nuns twenty-one miles round the Curragh. At last the thrumpet sounded, which gave notice that the king was coming. As soon as they halted, six men lifted the queen up on the throne, which they brought with them on the long car. The king ov coorse got up by her side.

‘Well, Dorah,’ sez he in a whisper, ‘what a laugh we’ll have at Biddy, with her shawl!’

‘I don’t know that neither,’ sez the queen. ‘It looks as thick as Finmocool’s boulsther, as it hangs over her shoulder.’

‘God save yer highness,’ sed the saint, as she kem up to them. ‘Why, ye sted mighty long. I had a snack ready for ye at one o’clock.’

‘Och, it’s no matther,’ sez the queen; ‘measure yer bit ov ground, and we then can have it in comfort.’

So with that St Bridget threw down her shawl, which she had cunningly folded up.

Now, sur, this shawl was made ov fine sewin’ silk, all network, each mesh six feet square, and tuck thirty-six pounds ov silk, and employed six hundred and sixty nuns for three months making it.

Well, sur, as I sed afore, she threw it on the ground.

‘Here, Judy Conway, run to Biddy Conroy with this corner, an’ let her make aff in the direckshin ov Kildare, an’ be shure she runs the corner into the _mon’stery_. Here, you, Nelly Murphy, make off to Kilcullen; an’ you, Katty Farrel, away with you to Ballysax; an’ you, Nelly Doye, away to Arthgarvan; an’ you, Rose Regan, in the direckshin of Connell; an’ you, Ellen Fogarty, away in the road to Maddenstown; an’ you, Jenny Purcel, away to Airfield. Just hand it from one to t’other.’

So givin’ three claps ov her hand, off they set like hounds, an’ in a minnit ye’d think a haul ov nuns wor cotched in the net.

‘Oh, millia murther!’ sez the queen, ‘she’s stretchin’ it over my daughter’s ground.’

‘Oh, blud-an’-turf!’ sez the king, ‘now she’s stretchin’ it over my son’s ground. Galong, ye set ov _thaulabawns_,’ sed he to his life-guards; ‘galong, I say, an’ stop her, else she’ll cover all my dominions.’

‘Oh fie, yer honour,’ sez the chief butler; ‘if you break yer word, I’m not shure ov my wages.’

Well behould ye, sur, in less than two hours Saint Bridget had the whole Curragh covered.

‘Now see what a purty kittle of fish you’ve made ov it!’ sez the queen.

‘No, but it’s you, Mrs Queen O’Dermot, ’twas you agreed to this.’

‘Ger out, ye ould bosthoon,’ sez the queen, ‘ye desarve it all: ye might aisy guess that she’d chouse ye. Shure iv ye had a grain ov sinse, ye might recollect how yer cousin King O’Toole was choused by Saint Kavin out ov all his ground, by the saint stuffin’ a lump ov a crow into the belly ov the ould goose.’

‘Well, Dorah, never mind; if she makes a hole, I have a peg for it. Now, Biddy,’ sez he, ‘though I gave ye the ground, I forgot to tell ye that I only give it for a certain time. I now tell ye from this day forward you shall only have it while ye keep yer fire in.’”

Here I lost the remainder of his discourse by my ill manners. I got so familiar with Mr Mowlds, and so interested with his story, that I forgot my politeness.

“And what about the fire, PAT?” said I, without consideration.

Before I could recollect the offence, he turned on me with the eyes of a maniac--

“The dhoul whishper nollege into your ear. _Pat!_--(hum)--_Pat!_--_Pat!_--this is freedom, with all my heart.”

So saying, he strode away, muttering something between his teeth. However, I hope again to meet him, when I shall be a little more cautious in my address.

THE ELECTROTYPE.

An elaborate and very lucid article on the Electrotype and Daguerreotype, being a review of “An Account of Experiments in Electricity made by Thomas Spencer--Annals of Electricity, January 1840,” and of the account of M. Daguerre’s discovery of Photogenic Drawing as published by himself, has appeared in that excellent work “The Westminster Review” for September. Our space not allowing us to enter so fully into details as our admirable contemporary, we present our readers with as concise an article as the nature of the subject will permit, confining ourselves for the present to the Electrotype, as being less generally known, though not less curious.

The electrotype is another instance of the application of invisible elements to the uses of man, by which powers and influences, of whose nature he is as yet wholly ignorant, are made subservient to his purposes, and obedient to his rule.

To define accurately what electricity is, would be, as yet at least, impossible. Many conjectures have been, are, and will be hazarded, but the knowledge of its production, power, and effects, is only in its infancy, and so full of promise of a gigantic growth, that time will be better spent in its cultivation than in debating upon what it is.

The truth of this proposition is fully borne out by the subject of our present paper; for whilst many scientific men have been exhausting their energies in the production of plausible theories upon the nature of the electric fluid, other more matter-of-fact philosophers have addressed themselves to its application; and whilst some of these devote themselves to the developement of its motive powers, in the well-founded hope of its superseding steam, others press its services to far different uses. Amongst the last, Mr Spencer holds a foremost place.

Before entering into the description of the electrotype, we must say a few words on the subject of electricity to the less informed of our readers. The electric fluid, as it is called, may be produced in various ways: the most ordinary is by the friction of glass against silk, as exemplified in the electrical machine, which is familiar to almost every one. But galvanic and voltaic electricity is differently produced. In all cases its production is the consequence of combination, but particularly in the galvanic battery and voltaic circle. The latter, being Mr Spencer’s apparatus, we shall briefly describe.

An ordinary voltaic circle is formed by a plate of zinc and another of copper being placed upright in a vessel containing acid or a saline solution. Zinc is more oxidisable than copper, that is, it has a greater affinity to, or inclination to unite itself with, the gas called oxygen, the combination of which with the particles of metal produces that appearance which is called “rust.” Whilst the zinc and copper are separate, the oxygen of the fluid operates upon both; but if they are united by means of a wire connected with each, the oxygen forsakes the copper altogether, and proceeds with increased force to unite with the zinc, and a current of electricity is immediately formed, which proceeds from the zinc plate through the fluid medium to the copper, thence along the connecting wire to the zinc, and thence round again in a constant circulating stream, until the zinc has been entirely decomposed, or oxidised.

Electricity being thus produced by combination, its progress and effects are marked by a wonderful power of separation or decomposition, which it exerts upon substances brought within the circle; and this is the power which Mr Spencer has turned to his use, the great object which he has at present in view being the multiplication of engraved plates of copper for the purpose of printing from.

Every person who has seen metal of any description in a state of fusion, must have remarked that it never forms a thin fluid such as water, capable of insinuating itself into the smallest interstices, but is what would be called _thick_ even at the fiercest heat, consequently incapable of entering into such fine scratches as are necessary to be accurately and clearly defined upon an engraved plate. Again, the contraction and expansion of all metals by the application of heat and cold, would offer an almost insuperable bar to the utility of casting, even if the fusion could be rendered perfect. But the application of electricity removes all the inconveniences, and opens a new field of science.

Mr Spencer’s apparatus consists of an earthenware vessel, in which is suspended another, much smaller, of earthenware or wood, with a bottom formed of plaster-of-Paris. Into the larger vessel is poured a saturated solution of copper (the copper being dissolved in sulphuric acid) sufficient to rise up along the sides of the lesser one, which is filled with the acid or saline solution intended to operate upon the zinc. The plaster-of-Paris being very porous, allows the two liquids to meet in its cells, but prevents them from mixing; by permitting them to meet, however, the current of electricity is enabled to circulate through all. In the larger vessel, and beneath the bottom of the smaller one, is placed the copper plate from which the cast is to be taken, or upon which the pattern is to be raised. It is suspended by the wire, which is to connect it with the zinc, being fixed on the edge of the inner vessel, in which is the zinc plate, suspended by its connecting wire. The two wires are then brought into contact, fixed together by a screw, and the voltaic circle is complete. The acid in the upper vessel attacks the zinc, the electric current descends through the plaster bottom, thence through the solution of copper, where its separating or decomposing power is brought into operation, causing the infinitely minute particles of copper suspended in the solution to separate from the sulphuric acid, and descend upon the plate, through which itself proceeds to the wire, and so round again.

Now, here is probably the most wonderful part of the process. It is only on the copper plate that the particles of copper, disengaged from the solution, will descend and settle. If the copper be varnished, or covered with a coat of wax, they will not deposit themselves or go together at all; but where they find the clean surface of the metal, they at once not only settle, but fix and adjust themselves in their proper forms, building up as it were a metal structure, not eccentric or uneven, but forming a correct plate of new metal, so pure, so hard, and so free from defect or extraneous matter, that engravers prefer copper plates thus formed to any other for working upon. But the perfection of this operation consists in the wonderful accuracy with which the finest lines of the most beautiful engravings are copied: the particles which float in the solution are so indefinitely small, that they can enter into the finest cuts, the slightest scratches; and as they undergo no process of heating or cooling, their form is in nowise altered.

We have already observed, that if the plate of metal be covered, even with varnish, the particles will not descend or form upon it; nevertheless, if some slight substance be not interposed, the depositing particles adhere so firmly to it as to be inseparable, and it is upon this property that one of the processes--that of engraving in relief on a plate of copper--entirely depends for success. When a cast of an engraved plate is required, the plate must be coated with bee’s-wax, mixed with a little spirits of turpentine. It is laid on the plate in a lump and melted, and when just cooling is wiped off, when, although apparently clean, enough remains to interpose between the new and original plates, and prevent a too strong cohesion. It is not necessary that the engraved plate should be copper: it may be for instance lead or type metal, in which case it need not be waxed, as the application of heat, expanding the metals unequally, causes them at once to start asunder.

A piece of wire having been soldered to the back of the plate, its back and edges should be covered with a double coat of thick varnish, or it may be embedded in a box with plaster-of-Paris or Roman cement. This precaution is necessary, to prevent the plate from being inclosed, and to limit the deposition to a proper extent.

It may now be suspended in the apparatus, and the wires being placed in contact, the operation begins. Particle by particle the new metal is formed, until the plate is of sufficient thickness, when it is withdrawn, and heat being applied, the two plates are separated, one being the exact counterpart, in relief, of the other. Care must be taken in all cases to change the solution of copper frequently, for by merely _adding_, the separated particles of the sulphuric acid would accumulate to such extent as to mar or injure the operation.

From the plate thus formed in relief, as many casts as may be required can be obtained, by making it the mould.

To copy or multiply medals and coins the operation is very simple, for a mould can be easily obtained by compressing the medal or coin between two plates of milled sheet lead, and by varnishing the lead round the impression, the deposit will be formed in the hollow only; and for this purpose a very simple apparatus will suffice, and one that may be very easily made. For the outer vessel an ordinary glass tumbler or finger-bowl will answer; and for the inner, a cylindrical gas-glass, having a bottom made of plaster-of-Paris. The solution of copper being in the tumbler, and the acid with the zinc in the gas-glass, the mould should be suspended by its conducting wire between the bottoms, the wire of the zinc connected with it, and the operation will proceed. In all cases it must be observed that the edge of the mould should be up, as, if it be placed horizontally, extraneous substances, sinking by their own weight, may be deposited upon it.

To produce a raised design upon a plate of copper, or as it is rather erroneously styled, “Engraving in Relief,” the operation is thus performed:--

The plate upon which the design is to be raised having had the conducting wire soldered to it, is covered with a coat of wax about one-eighth of an inch or less in thickness, and upon the surface of this coat the design is drawn. With a graver, the end of which must be of the form of a thin parallelogram, so as to make grooves in the wax equally broad at the bottom as at the top, the lines of the drawing are to be carefully cut down to the plate; care being taken that the plate is perfectly cleaned throughout each line, and also that the grooves are not narrower at the bottom than at the top. In order to lay the surface of the copper at the bottom of the grooves perfectly bare, the plate must be immersed in diluted nitric acid (three parts of water to one of acid), and the particles of wax that may have escaped the graver are driven off by the fumes of the acid. The plate is then placed in the apparatus, the circle closed as before, and the operation commences. As the particles of copper require a metallic base, they avoid the wax and seek the metal in the grooves; they there attach themselves to it, and to each other, until the hollows are quite filled up, when the plate is removed. If the surfaces of the ridges thus built up be not perfectly smooth, a piece of pumice stone or smooth flag, with water, being rubbed to them, will soon reduce them, after which the wax can be melted and cleaned off with spirits of turpentine; and so firm is this formation of metal thus raised, both in the adherence of its particles to each other and to the original plate, that it may be printed from at any ordinary printing-press.