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 I
SOME IMPRESSIONS OF AN AMERICAN CONVERT TO II

BY JEFFREY UNG
AMANA PUBLICATIONS
Struggling to Surrender
 Dedication:

"To Jameelah, Sara & Fattin"

Also, I would like to thank amana publications and its

production and editorial staff for their kind and enthusiastic

support and for their many very valuable suggestions.
Special thanks to Br. Jay Willoughby for his careful editing
of the book and to Br. Ah R.Abuza'kuk for his careful
reading and critique of the original manuscript.

Jeffery Lang
Struggling to Surrender:

Some Impressions
of an American Convert to Islam

Jeffery Lang

Second Revised Edition

amana publications
Beltsville, Maryland, USA
 First Edition

(1415 AH/ 1994 AC)

Second Revised Edition

(1416 AH/ 1995 AC)

© Copyrights 1415 AH / 1994 AC by

amana publications
10710 Tucker Street
Maryland 20705-2223
Beltsville, USA
Tel: (301) 595-5777 • Fax: (301) 595-5888

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Lang, Jeffrey 1954(1373)—

Struggling to Surrender: Some Impressions of an American Convert to Islam I

by Jeffrey Lang, 2nd Rev. Ed.

p. 244 cm 22 1/2 x 15
Includes bibliographical references
ISBN 0-915957-26-4
1 . Lang, Jeffrey.

2. Muslim converts —United States.

I. Title.

BP170.5.L36 1995
297'.42—dc20
[B] 94-29827
CIP

Printed in the United States of America by International Graphics

10710 Tucker Street, Beltsvile, Maryland 20705-2223 USA
Tel: (301) 595-5999 • Fax: (301) 595-5888
 Contents

Preface vii

Chapter 1 : The Shahadah 1

Chapter 2: The Qur'an 19

Initial Observations: 22
A Challenge to Reason — Parallels with the
Old and New Testaments

Central Considerations: 38
—
Qur'anic Imagery Back to me "Signs"
—
The Role of Reason Faith and Reason
— —
Allegory Satans and Jinn Time and Eter-
nity— —
Man's Purpose in Life The Straight
Path

Inner Considerations 62

Chapter 3: Rasul Allah 69

—
Beginning with the Qur'an Mosque In the
—Hadith, Sunnah, and Sirah—The New
Testament and Hadith—Expectations
the
Western Criticism of Traditions —
the
Question of Need—A Question of Truth
Who is Muhammad?
Chapter 4: The Ummah 119
Questions 1 27
Family 130
Perspectives 137
To the Islamic Center 140

Women in the Qur'an: 142

The Male and Female — Rights and
the
—Beginnings and Endings
Responsibilities
—Ways Paradise —Beyond Husband and
to

Wife — A Woman's Witness— — Leadership ^A

Woman's —
Dress and
^Education Segregation
The Woman's Complaint

Law and State 182

Jihad 183
Faith and Power 1 90
Apostasy 195

Chapter 5: Ahl al Kitab 201

Revelation and History: An Interpretation
Ahl al Kitab (People of the Book) —Muslim-
Chrisitan Dialogue —The Israeli-Palestinian
Problem —Ties of Kinship
Parting Thoughts 230
 Preface

Almost everything of their beauty could be traced to northern Europe

the delicate angularity of their features, their fair complexions, their long,
luxuriant golden-brown hair — ^but not their eyes: large, flashing dark brown
eyes, the type you might steal a glance from at an outdoor market or on a
village street in Arabia, the type that see? right through you and lingers in
your memory for a long time.
"Why did you become a Muslim?" asked one of my two interrogators.
What answer would their innocence comprehend? Both gazed up at me dis-
passionately, as if they had all eternity to wait for an explanation. Maybe
they were not meant to understand but only to ask, to initiate the process of
self-examination.
No, I was more personal than that. I remember
thought, their question
when I asked my own father why he had become a Catholic. It was not due
to curiosity alone but a result of my own search for self-definition.
When I became a Muslim, I did not consider how many choices I was
making, not just for myself but for my three daughters and their children
and their descendants. Of course they needed to know why I made that
decision, because it had been made for them as well and they would have
to come to terms with it for the rest of their lives.
The prophet Muhammad said of his youngest daughter: "Fatimah is a
part of me and I am a part of her. Her happiness is my happiness and her
pain is my pain." A father finds special fulfillment in his relationship with

his daughters. Through their feminine nature, he can reach beyond the lim-
its of his gender and is opened to a greater range of feelings and emotions
than his public life allows. They complement and counter-balance him, not
just as females but as his children, because he sees the completion of him-
self in their personalities. "Why did you become a Muslim?" holds an
entirely different significance for me when it comes from my daughters,

for it originates in me. It is my completory voice, in its still untainted truth-

fulness, cross-examining me.
I explained them briefly and as well as I could, but not in a way
it to
that finalized the matter, as I wanted to be sure the door was left open for
fiirther inquiry. Their question is the impetus behind this book, which be-

gan as nightly reflections on their question.

If you are not honest with your daughters, you are being untrue to

yourself. For that reason, I did my best to tell it as sincerely and honestly

vii
as I could: to "tell it like it is," as we used to say. This meant including all

the various highlights and lowlights, discoveries and doubts, answers and
questions. Thus, this is in no way an authoritative book on Islam in the
United States. My daughters know that their father is not a scholar of Islam
and Muslim scholars will easily recognize this as well. I therefore oifer
this remark as a caution to those with lesser knowledge of the religion. For

those who wish to understand mainstream Islam in the United States today,
I may suggest Gamal Badawi's excellent Islamic Teaching Series.

The work before you might be best described as my experience of or

reaction to Islam, something like a diary or personal journal, that will most
likely be of interest to a certain type of audience. As I could not include
every personal reflection or question I have ever had, I confined myself to
topics that seemed to be of general concern to converts, as voiced in
American Muslim newsletters and magazines. In addition, I have relied on
personal communications with fellow converts, some of whose recollec-

tions appear throughout this book.

Some themes (i.e., the signs of the Qur'an and science) became of in-
terest to me through association, while others (i.e., questions about divine
mercy and justice) were intrinsic to my own search for spirituality. The
first two chapters are reflections on becoming a Muslim: the first chapter

highlights the decision to convert and the second focuses on the part
played by the Qur'an. Although I have done my best to interpret these top-
ics, there is so much contained within them that still remains a mystery to

me. The last three chapters, which form the major part of this work, are, in
reality, an appendix to these subjects. They deal with the difficulties en-

countered after conversion and the struggle to participate in Muslim com-

munity life.

The American Muslim convert is most often of Christian or Jewish

background, which means that he or she has rejected one prophetic tradi-
tion and one version of history in favor of another, closely related one. As
this entails rebellion against the prior religious tradition, it should come as

no surprise that converts are often skeptical of Islamic tradition, particu-

larly when dealing with the sayings and reports concerning Prophet
Muhammad. Tradition, Muslim scholarship, popular feeling, history, and
Westem criticism all collide to create what appears to be irreconcilable
confusion. This is 4he subject of chapter three.
The Muslim congregations in the United States are made up of a vast

array of cultures and customs, many of which have a religious basis. The
majority are from traditional and more conservative societies. The shock
that they face upon their arrival in this country, like all immigrants before
them, is perplexing and frightening. The convert also experiences this

Vlll
pain, for he/she finds himself/herself in the unaccustomed position of
being a minority within the MusHm rehgious community. This aspect of
conversion to Islam is taken up in chapter four, with special emphasis on
the changing roles of the sexes. The last chapter deals with some of the
difficulties of being a Muslim in a non-Muslim family and society.

I have been fighting with myself for some time over whether or not I

should publish this book. My hesitation was not due to any fear of causing
controversy but rather because of its very personal character. Without
doubt, it is a very American interpretation of Islam, for how could it be
otherwise? I cannot (and should not be expected to) extricate myself from
the first twenty-eight years of my life. I continue to follow a strategy that
I used when I was an atheist: I study what scholars inside and outside of a
religion say about it. Insiders often overlook or brush aside sensitive ques-
tions, whereas outsiders have their own prejudices. Through cautious
comparison and hope to offset the two tendencies. Thus, my
contrast, I

understanding of Islam has been influenced by non-Muslim scholars.

Nevertheless, it was the encouragement of fellow Muslims that finally
prompted me to publish this book. I was reminded of my own opinion that
the many questions and issues that now face American Muslims need to be
explored openly and patiently; for the unity of the community is at stake.
This book, then, represents my very small contribution to the growth of
Islam in the United States. Like Muslim writers of old,
I attribute what is

good therein to the mercy and glory of God, and seek His forgiveness for
that which is not.

Note: It is a long established and cherished tradition among Muslims to follow the men-
tion of a prophet's name by the benediction, "May peace be upon him." In time, this prac-
tice was adopted in writing, although the most ancient extant manuscripts show that this
custom was not adhered to rigidly by Muslim writers in the first two centuries. To avoid
interrupting the flow of ideas, especially for non-Muslim readers, I have not followed the
customary practice. I will simply take this occasion to remind the Muslim reader of this
tradition.

Note: It is quite a problem to decide upon the best transliteration system for Arabic words.
The most common solution is to use the system followed by the Library of Congress as
outlined in Bulletin 91. For the sake of simplicity, to make my own life easier, I have
adopted the spellings of this system but omitted the superscriptal and subscriptal dots and
dashes. Experts should still be able to discern the corresponding Arabic words, and it

should not, I hope, pose a disadvantage to nonexperts.

 Chapter 1

The Shahadah
Then Satan whispered to him, saying, "O Adam, shall I lead you
to a tree of eternity and a kingdom which does not decay?"
(20:121)'

// was a tiny room with no furniture, and there was nothing on its

grayish-white walls. Its only adornment was the predominantly red-and-

white patterned carpet that covered the floor There was a small window,
like a basement window, above and facing us, filling the room with bril-

liant light. We were in rows; I was in the third. There were only men, no
women, and all of us were sitting on our heels and facing the direction of
the window.
It felt foreign. I was in another country.
recognized no one. Perhaps I

We bowed down was serene and quiet,

uniformly, our faces to the floor. It
as if all sound had been turned off. All at once, we sat back on our heels.
As I looked ahead, I realized that we were being led by someone in front
who was off to my left, in the middle, below the window. He stood alone. I
only had the briefest glance at his back. He was wearing a long white
gown, and on his head* was a white scarf with a red design. And that is
when I would awaken.

was to have this dream several times during the next ten or so years,
I

and was always that brief and always the same. At first it made abso-
it

lutely no sense but later I came to believe that it had some kind of religious

connection. Although I shared it with persons close to me on at least one

occasion, possibly two, it did not appear to be worth any further consider-
ation. It did not trouble me and, as a matter of fact, I would feel strangely

comfortable when I awoke.

It was at about the time of that first dream, either a little bit before or
after, that I was expelled from religion class. Before that semester, I had
never had any misgivings about my faith. I had been baptized, raised.

'For the part, I have relied on 'Abdullah Yusuf 'Ali's The Holy Qur'an: Text,
most
Translation and Commentary (Brentwood, Maryland: Amana, 1983). This source was
republished in 1992 under the title of The Meaning of the Holy Qur'an: New Edition with
Revised Translation and Commentary.

1
schooled, and confirmed a Catholic. It was "the one true religion" — at

least in southern Connecticut. All my friends, neighbors, relatives, and

acquaintances, with the exception of a few Jews, were Catholics. But one
thing just led to another.
It was the beginning of my senior year at Notre Dame Boys' High
School, and our religion teacher, a truly fine priest, decided that we needed
to be convinced that God exists. And so he proceeded to proveit by argu-

ing from first causes, I was a pretty good mathematics student and enam-
ored of mathematical logic, so I could not resist the urge to challenge his
conclusions.
My position was simply that an explanation is not a proof. The exis-
tence of a Supreme Being, if given the right attributes, could explain our
existence and our deeper perceptions of guilt, right and wrong, and so on,
but there are alternative explanations, such as those —admittedly imper-
fect — that we learn from science. While religions are still struggling with
their own conflicts with reason, science appears to be making steady
progress toward complete solutions. The ontological argument is hardly a
proof, since one can argue that widespread belief in God may have its ori-

gins in widespread ignorance and fear. Perhaps the more secure we are in
our knowledge, the less we will adhere to religion. This is the case with
modem man, especially those in academia.
For the next few weeks we would argue in circles, and I was winning
several classmates over to my point of view. When we reached a critical
impasse, the Father advised me and those who agreed with me to leave the
class until we could see things differently. Otherwise we would receive an
F for the course.
Several nights later at dinner, I thought I had better explain to my par-
ents why I was going to fail religion. My mother was shocked and my
father was angry. "How can you not believe in God?" he screamed. Then
he made one of those predictions of his that always have had a way of
coming true: "God will bring you to your knees, Jeffrey! He'll bring you
so low that you'll wish you were never bom!" But why? I thought. Just
because I could not answer my questions?
There I was, an atheist in the eyes of family, friends, and schoolmates.
The strange thing was that, at this point in time, I had not abandoned my
belief in God but instead was only pursuing a line of argument largely for
the sake of argument. I had never stated that I disbelieved. What I had said
was that I found the proofs presented to our religion class inadequate.
Nonetheless, I did not reject this new designation because the altercation
did have a profound effect on me. I came to realize that I was not sure what

I believed or why.
 In the months to come I would continue to challenge, in my mind,
the existence of God. It was the spirit of our time to doubt our institu-
tions, even religious ones. We were a generation raised on mistrust. In
grade school we use to have air raid drills, during which we would run
to the basement of nuclear fallout. We stocked our cellars
in anticipation
with provisions in case of such an emergency. Our heroes, the Kennedy
brothers and Martin Luther King, Jr., were being assassinated and
replaced by leaders who would eventually be forced into political exile
and disgrace. There were race riots, burning and looting, especially in
industrial towns like mine. Every night on television there were the body
counts. There was a lingering fear that at any time you might be harmed
by someone, and for something of which you had no knowledge. The
idea that God had made us/it this way and, on top of that, that He was
going to punish all but a few of us in the end, was more terrible and
haunting than not to believe at all. I became an atheist when I was eigh-
teen.
At first I felt free, for my new view liberated me from the phobia that
Someone was tapping into my thoughts and fantasies and condemning me.
I was free to live my life for myself alone; there was no need to worry
about satisfying the whims of a superhuman Power. To some extent, I was
also proud that I had had the courage to accept responsibility for who I was
and toassume control of my life. I was secure, for my feelings, per-
ceptions, and desires were entirely mine and did not have to be shared with
any Supreme Being or anyone else. I was the center of my universe: its
creator, sustainer, and regulator. I decided for myself what was good and
evil, right and wrong. I became my own god and savior. This is not to say

that I became completely greedy and self-indulgent, for now I believed

more than ever in sharing and caring. But my reason for so doing was not
to attain a future reward: I felt a real genuine human love. We hold love to
be the highest human emotion. Whether this is due to evolution, chance,
or some eco-biological utility hardly matters, for it is as real as anything
else and it makes us happy. When you give out love, you really do receive
in retum, here and now.
Going away to college is not the same as leaving home: you are sim-
ply not living with your parents any more. It is a transition between depen-
dence and independence, a time and place when it is still safe to test your
views. I learned very quickly that no one knows loneliness like an atheist.
When an average person feels isolated, he can call through the depths of
his soul to One who knows him and sense an answer. An atheist cannot
allow himself that luxury, for he has to crush the urge and remind himself
of its absurdity. He may be the god of his own universe but it is a very
small one, for its limits are determined by his perceptions and it is contin-

uously shrinking.
The religious man has faith in things that are beyond what he can
sense or conceive, while an atheist cannot even trust those things. Almost
nothing is truly real for him, not even truth. His concepts of love, com-
passion, and justice are always turning and shifting on his predilections,
with the result that both he and those around him are victims of instabili-

ty. He has to be absorbed in himself, trying to hold it all together, to bal-

ance it, to make sense of it. Meanwhile he must contend with outside pow-
ers that rival his, those human relationships that he cannot control and that
intrude upon his universe. He needs simplicity, solitude, and isolation, but
he also needs to extend himself beyond himself.
We all desire immortality. The religious man imagines a solution,
whereas an atheist has to construct one right now. Perhaps a family, a
book, a discovery, a heroic deed, the great romance, so that he will live on

in theminds of others. His ultimate goal is not to go to Heaven but to be

remembered. Yet what difference does it make after all?
Mankind aspires to perfection; it is an inner craving that whips us into
action. Shall become the great mathematician, runner, cook, humanitar-
I

ian, or parent some day? For an atheist, nothing satisfies the need, be-
cause his creed is that there is no perfection and no absolute. The next best
thing is stability. I followed the tested social patterns not because I valued
them but because they were functional and serviceable.
After finishing my studies at the University of Connecticut, I got mar-
ried. My wife and West Lafayette, Indiana, so that we could
I moved to
enroll in Purdue University's graduate school. Although newly married,
we agreed that our marriage was not a permanent commitment and that it
would end amicably if better opportunities arose. But for the moment, it
had some practical advantages. We were certainly friends but there was no
passion, and, as expected, we divorced three years later on good terms.
To my surprise, I was stricken with sorrow. It was not that I had lost
the love of my life or someone I could not live without; it was that I was
afraid to face myself alone again. But when I really thought about it, I
knew that I was always alone, whether I was married or not. Through three
years of matrimony, I had always hoped for this moment. My wife was a
wonderful person but I just had no room for anyone else in my life. The
day she left —and she had initiated the divorce — I came to the harsh real-
ization that my
universe had become a prison, a place to hide. But I had no
idea what was running from. It was not so easy being a god, after all!
I

At that point I so intensely wanted to break out. I wanted to be all

things to all people and it mattered how others saw me, even if I insisted
to myself that it didn't. We all have this need to justify our existence, and
if no one else valued my life, then of what value was it? If it had no value,
why live at all? But at least I had my mathematics, and so I concentrated

on finishing school. Ihad a few brief romances over the next two years,
enough to
just long experience love but not long enough to effect a bond.
Then something very strange happened.
I my Ph.D. thesis and was waiting outside the room
had just defended
while my committee was coming to a decision. It was five years of intense
devotion to my subject that had brought me to that day and I was emo-
tionally exhausted. The door opened and I was greeted with the words,
"Congratulations, Doctor Lang!"
But as I wandered back to my apartment, my joy began slipping away.
The more I tried to recover it, the more I was overcome by melancholy,
disappointment, and bitterness. It reminded me of when we outgrow
Christmas, when we try so hard to retrieve the excitement of our childhood
but cannot because we are no longer Maybe life is a series of
children.
television ads, I thought, and this is why we become so desperate for the
most frivolous things. We cheat ourselves into believing that our goals
have some real value when, in truth, we are only another kind of animal
trying to survive. Is this what life is all about —one artificial victory after
another? I started to rethink it all.

was December 1 98 1 when I graduated, and I stayed on as an instruc-

It

tor for another semester while I searched for a job. West Lafayette was
made for contemplation; there was nothing else to do there. It was the type
of college town that becomes a ghost town when the students leave for va-
cation. It had several fast food restaurants, a couple of movie theaters, a
few churches, three laundromats, and some large grocery stores. You did
not have to go very far before you were out in the rural farming areas. I
walked several miles each day along the roads, crunching through the deep
snow. It was the coldest winter I had ever known. The sea of white was
invitingly peaceful as I sifted through my thoughts.
I could not forget the young lady who had come to my office for help.
When I opened the door, there was this mysterious, presumably Middle
Eastern woman was completely covered in black from
facing me. She
head to toe, although her hands and face were visible. She needed help in
field theory, she said, and her professor had recommended me.

I agreed to help her, and my preconceptions about Arab women were

very quickly shattered. She was a graduate student in mathematics and I

supposed that, since she shared an office like mine with other teaching
assistants, she must be a teaching assistant as well. But I simply could

not imagine her standing in front of a class of Indiana natives of Ger-

manic descent dressed At the same time, she had such poise and
like that.

dignity that I felt a little ashamed of myself next to her. I found myself

trying not to stare at her, although her face was radiantly and uninten-
tionally beautiful.
Although I only tutored her twice, I felt that I needed to talk to her

again. was not sure whether it was curiosity or infatuation probably

I —
both. There was a gentle inner strength and beauty in her that I had to
know. Several times I came close to knocking at her office door, but I
never actually did it.

I now acquired a heightened interest in other religions. I began to have

close foreign student friends from Egypt, India, Pakistan, Japan, and
China. Up to that point, I had always considered the panorama of diflFerent
religious systems as one more evidence against monotheism. But I now
saw that the essential beliefs were very similar and that only the symbols,
rituals, and deities varied. Maybe
there was some universal power or soul,
a vital force, that permeated our beings, I thought. The symbols for ex-
pressing that awareness would naturally be determined by the culture from
which it grew. This would account for the diversity of ideas. Since we both
shape and are shaped by our cultures, I thought that I might now return to
my religious roots.
went home to Connecticut for six weeks during the summer. My
I

mother was excited, although not completely surprised, when I asked if I

could join her and my father for the Sunday church service. There had
been enough signs in my letters and telephone calls to indicate that I was
searching.
I would stand at the back of the church, as my father always did,
listening intently to the sermon. However, the words did not reach me, for
the priest seemed to be talking to someone else, to those who already
believed. And even they did not appear to be listening, just as they had
never done so, as far as I could remember. They must have been getting
something out of the Mass, however, or else why would they attend?
But that was not the case with me. When we would go out for pan-
cakes after church, my parents would share their personal experiences, dis-
satisfactions, and doubts with me. I knew they were trying to help me and

I loved them for it.And I attended church on the next three Sundays.
It was hard for me to tell my mother on the fourth Sunday that I would
not be going with them. I could not even face her and kept my back to her
when she came to wake me. "It's just not for me, mom," I told her.
There was a short pause. Perhaps she was thinking of a way to encour-
age me. Maybe she was going to tell me that I should give it more time,
that it was naive to assume that three Masses would be enough. "All right,
son," my mother said at last. Her words were sunk in despair and resigna-
tion, suspended in that parental pain that digs so deeply when you
and love
have a suffering child and there you can do to help. I wanted to get
is little

out of bed and hug her, to tell her that I was sorry. But I could not even
tum around. She stood by my bed a moment longer, and then I
silently
heard her footsteps leave the room.
San Francisco was a chance to begin anew, for new places provide
new opportunities. You can do something different or unexpected because
of your anonymity. My professors encouraged me to work elsewhere but I
chose the University of San Francisco.
was not sure why. It was not a research school, and I had never liked
I

big At the start of the semester, my personal life was already excit-
cities.

ing and chaotic. I had decided to live for the moment and not to dwell so
much on the future or the past. It was wonderful to be eaming a real liv-
ing instead of the graduate student stipend I was used to.
I was about to begin my first lecture when this extremely handsome,

regal-looking Arab fellow walked in the rear door of the classroom or, I —
should say, made his entrance. He was tall, slim, and dressed in a style that
reflected impeccable taste. The entire class tumed to view him; I thought
they might even stand up. Everyone obviously recognized him, and he was
acknowledging members of his audience with smiles and polite quips that
had them laughing as he made his way to his seat. The mood of the group
had actually changed!
My lecture had some relation to medical research, and I asked the
class if anyone had any insights to share. Who should raise his hand from
the back of the room but the young man whom I had assumed was a
prince? In perfect English tinged with a slightly British accent and with
great self-assurance, he elucidated the entire matter for the class.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Mahmoud Qandeel," he responded.
"You seem to know quite a lot about medicine. Is that your area of
study?"
"No," he replied. "I happened to read a magazine article on this sub-
ject the other day."
"Well, thank you for sharing it with us, but I think you should consid-

er a career in medicine. Hereafter, I'll refer to you as Doctor Qandeel." He

smiled graciously in response.
Mahmoud was five years younger than I and light-years more world-
ly. He took it upon himself to introduce me to San Francisco. Everyone
knew him (adored might be a better word): the mayor, the police chief,
rock stars, drug dealers, street people. He was excessively generous and
could make the humblest person feel important. At the same time he was
completely open and self-effacing.
You did not have to hide things from Mahmoud, for he accepted you
as you were. His greatest skill was with people. He could discover your
hurts and make you forget them, at least temporarily. He was charming,
fun, and impossible to keep pace with. Women greeted him with kisses on
the cheek everywhere we went —
and we went everywhere! It was a world
I had never seen before, one that consisted of the finest cars, clothes, jew-
elry, restaurants, delicacies, yachts, dignitaries, diplomats, call girls, cham-
pagne, and discotheques, in which wealthy middle-aged women would ask
you to come home for the night
— "for breakfast," they would say.

It glittered and glamored in every direction —

like ice! Conversations

were cold, lifeless, and led nowhere. We were poor actors playing roles for
which we were poorly suited. Everyone was desperately absorbed in hav-
ing a good time, preoccupied with being "in" and "with it" and "exclu-
sive". There was no joy or happiness, only empty laughter. I had never
before felt so much hurt in one place and at one time. I did not fit in with
that society, nor did I ever want to.
Although he had mastered the game, Mahmoud did not really belong
to it either. Intrinsically, he was a simple, humble, generous man. His at-

traction was his innocence, his honesty, his boyishness, all of which had
miraculously survived San Francisco only slightly tarnished. And I was
not the only one who was missing something: Mahmoud had his own
agony. He could not have relieved the pain of so many others if he had not.
And I hoped so badly that he would find what he had lost.
He introduced me to his family. It was not clear immediately who had
adopted whom, but they surely gave more of themselves than I.
Mahmoud was the eldest son, which is a position of responsibility in a
Saudi family. His brother Omar was a very bright physics student at the
—
University of California Berkeley. Omar was tall and muscular and a
second degree black-belt in Tae Kwon Doe. His eyes were so intense that,
when he was not smiling, you thought that he might be angry. But when
he smiled, as he frequently did, it was the most gentle and comforting
smile.
Their sister Ragia, also a student at the University of San Francisco,
was pure goodness and kindness. Her large brown eyes were her whole
story; they were caring, warm, penetrating, and passionate. She was exoti-
cally and ethereally beautiful, difficult to define and impossible to forget.

Hawazin was Mahmoud 's pretty young She was intelli-

bride-to-be.
gent, perceptive, witty, and loved to laugh. Mahmoud's father had died
when they were children, and it was clear from their reminiscences that
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 LIGHT-HOUSES.
A light-house, in marine architecture, is a building, or watch-tower,
erected on the sea-shore, to serve as a land-mark to mariners, on a
low coast, by day, and, in any situation, to inform them of their
approach to land in the night;—being of most essential utility in
causing them to take soundings, avoid shoals, rocks, &c.; or else it is
a building erected on a rock in the sea, which, from its situation,
would be extremely dangerous to vessels, were not some intimation
given of the existence of a rock, where it is locally situated. Of this
latter description is the celebrated Eddystone light-house, off
Plymouth.
Although this species of architecture is not likely to have been so
general in extreme antiquity, because it could not have been
essentially necessary to any except to those nations who, from the
proximity of their situation to the coast, or other circumstances,
pursued maritime concerns; or to those whose connexions rendered
the encouragement of the marine of other nations important.
The oldest building of this description, which we believe to be
upon record, is the famous Pharos erected on the Egyptian coast,
which, being very low land, and exposed entirely to the almost
constant west winds coming up the Mediterranean from the vast
Atlantic, must, of necessity, have made the port of modern
Alexandria, anciently called Dalmietta, very dangerous. It was
originally erected by Ptolemy Philadelphus, for the encouragement
and convenience of the Phœnicians, who were accounted the foreign
factors of that empire; as the Egyptians possessed an unconquerable
aversion to the sea, and therefore they never obtained its
sovereignty: whilst the former people were the first who obtained
the supremacy of that sea.
The island upon which Pharos stood, in the time of Homer, in his
simple geography and estimation, was said to be one day’s sail from
the Delta; whereas, since the foundation of Alexandria, it was only a
mile in distance, and was even joined to the mainland by a mole,
having a bridge at each end; or according to some authors, in the
middle. The tower was, if report be true, justly entitled to the
appellation it obtained—one of the seven wonders of the world; and
it is reported, that the light from it has been seen at the distance of
a hundred miles; which, assuredly, appears improbable, because the
convexity of the earth, we think, would not permit. Its height must
have been, at least, 2,400 feet, or 800 yards from the base.
We are enabled to furnish the following particulars of this
famous structure. It was built by order of that patron of learning and
the arts, Ptolemy Philadelphus, by that eminent architect, Sostrates,
who constructed many of the public buildings in Alexandria. It is said
to have cost Ptolemy eight hundred talents! Respecting its mode of
construction, it was raised several stories one above another; each
was decorated with columns, balustrades, and galleries of the finest
marble and most exquisite workmanship; and some have even said
that the architect had furnished the galleries with large mirrors, by
which shipping could be seen at a great distance. However,
respecting this edifice, once so famous, that its very name, Pharos,
was considered as a common term for all other constructions for the
same purpose, it is now said, from Saracenic ignorance and brutality,
aided, perhaps, by the assistance of the common leveller, Time, that
nothing now remains of this once elegant edifice, but an unsightly
tower rising out of a heap of ruins, the whole being accommodated
to the inequality of the ground on which it stands, and being, at
present, no higher than that which it should command. Such as it is,
there is now a light, we understand, usually maintained. There is
also an island, which was called Pharos, in the Adriatic sea, on the
coast of Italy, opposite Brundusium, for the same reason: likewise
the celebrated colossal statue of Apollo, at Rhodes, answered the
same purpose, and occasionally had the same appellation, as had a
river of Asia, in the environs of Cilicia and the Euphrates. This last
consideration brings us to the etymology of the word, as Ozanum
says, “Pharos originally signified a strait, as the Pharos of Messina.”
Of every description of light-houses yet known, there is none more
famous than that called Eddystone, with a description of which we
shall conclude this article.
Mr. Winstanley’s light-house was begun upon the Eddystone rock
in 1696, and was more than four years in building, from the
numerous interruptions of the wind and the element he had to
contend with, the violence whereof is truly alarming, occasioned by
that rock being exposed to every wind which comes up the vast
Atlantic, and that tumultuous sea, the Bay of Biscay. These obstacles
were considerably increased by the shape of the rock itself, having a
regular slope to S.W., and from the very deep sea in its vicinity, it,
therefore, receives the uncontrolled fury of those seas: meeting with
no other object whereon to break their vehement force, the effect is
so great at high water with a S.W. wind, which continues for many
days, though a calm may have succeeded, the violent action of the
waters has not ceased, but break frightfully on Eddystone. An
engraving of Mr. Winstanley’s light-house was published at the
period of its erection, from which it appears to have been a stone
tower of twelve sides, rising forty-four feet above the highest point
of the rock, which, in the dimensions on which it was built, twenty-
four feet in diameter, was ten feet lower on one side than it was
upon the other; at the top was a balustrade and platform; upon this
were erected eight pillars, which supported a dome of the same
dimensions as the tower; from the top of which arose an octagon
tower, of a diameter of fifteen feet, and seven in height. On the
summit was placed the lantern, ten feet in diameter, and twelve in
height: it had a gallery surrounding it, which gave access to the
windows. The whole was surrounded by fencible iron-work. The
entry was by a solid stone door at the bottom; the whole building
was of the same material, except the aperture for the staircase. At
the bottom was a room twelve feet high for a store-room; the next
story was of the same height, which was the stateroom; and the
third was of a similar height, which was the kitchen. Those
compartments occupied the whole height to the platform. The dome
above this contained the lodging-room; the octagon above it, the
look-out.
The reason why it occupied so much time in building was,
because the men could only work in the summer months. The first
summer was occupied in making holes in the rock, and fastening
irons to hold the future work. The second year was spent in erecting
a solid pillar, of fourteen feet diameter, and one hundred and twelve
feet high, for the future support of the building. The third year, it
was augmented in diameter and increased in height. This building
was eventually finished, within the time above-mentioned, at an
enormous expense. It stood the opposition of the elements. The
violence of the sea was so great, that Mr. Winstanley said it has
been seen to rise upwards of one hundred feet above the vane,
whilst the sides of the building were covered with surf as with a
sheet, so that the whole house and lantern were occasionally under
water. This edifice withstood the conflict of elements till 1703, when
the architect, being at Plymouth, and desirous of visiting it, for the
purpose of inspecting some repairs, went to it, but returned no
more; for a storm arose, which left not a relic of it standing, except
the iron work, which had been fixed in the rock. The Corporation of
the Trinity House had then to erect another, for which purpose they
employed a Mr. John Rudyard, who was a silk mercer, on Ludgate-
hill. Mr. Rudyard’s mechanical ingenuity was said to have qualified
him well for the undertaking. It appears that he erected a house
made chiefly of wood, which presented many traits of his genius. It
was a conical frustrum, one hundred and fifty-six feet in diameter at
the base; its altitude sixty-two feet. At the top of the building was a
balcony, railed round; in the centre of its area was the lantern. This
building was made quite plain, excepting the well for the staircase,
which was solid for thirty-two feet. In the centre a strong mast was
erected. The building was admirably fixed to the rock, from the very
peculiar manner of making the holes to hold iron cramps, they being
made for the internal cavity to diverge on each side, by an extreme
of one inch at the depth of sixteen inches. The cavity was first filled
with tallow; the hot iron then dipped in the same substance, put in
the rock, and eventually filled with pewter, which displaced the
tallow, being heavier, the grease serving to protect the iron from the
corrosive acidity of the salt water. In 1708, it was finished so far as
to receive a temporary light. It stood forty-four years, and showed
that it was liable to destruction from the very perishable nature of its
materials. However, on the 2nd December, 1755, the upper part of it
taking fire, burnt downwards to its entire consumption. The concern
had been leased to a Captain Lovell; but at a later period his
possessions were distributed among a number of people, when the
care of rebuilding it was entrusted to Mr. Robert Weston, to whom
Mr. John Smeaton was recommended by the President of the Royal
Society, who appears to have been well qualified for the
undertaking. He accordingly furnished a plan for, and superintended
the building which now stands. Mr. Smeaton’s conjecture was quite
different to that of the late projector; he conceived that nothing
could withstand the action of the wind and water so well, and at the
same time, prevent such accidents as the past, as could a building
whose gravity should secure its most sure protection, He accordingly
constructed his of the most massy stones, all dovetailed into each
other, formed of Cornish-moor and Portland stone; all the joints
breach each other, as the masons term it, or on each joint occurs
the central stone of the next course. There are fourteen courses of
these stones first laid in this manner, of a great thickness each
course. On the 12th June, 1757, the first stone was laid in its place,
each stone being pierced when it was laid, a strong oak pin was
driven through to pin it fast to its place: the dovetails not fitting so
close to each other, because it was necessary to leave some space
for the cement, this pin was calculated to secure the stone till this
could be applied and had fixed; the cement used was composed of
Watchet lime and puzzolana, or Dutch terras, being made at the
moment by mixing up in a pail, with water; this mixture was poured
upon the work, and run into every cavity and crevice; this, however,
was sometimes not exempt from the injury of the sea; whenever it
was injured, the defect was supplied by having some oakum cut
fine, and mixed with this cement, introduced into the joints; then
they were secured with a coat of plaster of Paris, pro tempore, and
this was never known to fail, if the work stood for one tide. In this
manner the platform was erected, all of the most solid materials,
and substantial workmanship.
On the 30th of September, 1758, the work having been
continued from the 11th of the preceding May, had arrived at the
store-room floor; here an iron chain was let into the stone, as
follows: the recess being made and the chain being well oiled before
insertion, the groove which received it was divided into four separate
dams by clay; two kettles were used, to hold a sufficiency of melted
lead, eleven hundred weight; whilst the lead was in a state of fusion,
two men with ladles filled one quarter of the groove; as soon as it
set, they removed one of the clay dams, and then filled the next
quarter, pouring the liquid on the middle of the first quarter, it
melted together into the second; the dam at the opposite end was
now filled, and then the fourth; by this means the lead was
associated into one solid mass. The centring for the floor was next
set up, the outward stones being first set, and then the inner ones.
Thus the base floor was finished. The men could work no longer
than till the 7th of October that year. The winter was spent in
preparing the iron, copper, and glass work for the lantern; and the
spring in unsuccessful endeavours to discover the moorings for the
vessel which attended the works, for the occasional retreat of the
workmen. On the 5th of July the work was resumed: the stones for
building had been hitherto raised from the boats by what are called
shears, formed of two poles, with the lowermost ends extended to a
sufficient width, whilst the upper ends met in a point; here was
fastened tackle, pulleys, &c., to raise them to a sufficient height to
be swung over the building; this course was now of necessity
altered; a block with pulleys being suspended from the top,
projected to a sufficient distance, supported by beams. After the
base had been formed as described, a different mode of operation
was necessary to complete the superstructure; the work being now
advanced so high as to be out of the constant wash of the sea.
Instead of grooves being formed to fasten the stones together, they
were fixed by means of iron clamps and lead. The stones to
complete the superstructure were landed, and first drawn up by
machinery, called a jack, through the well, in the interior of the
building, being a cavity for the staircase. The work now proceeded
more rapidly, so that by the 26th of August, the stairs and all the
masonry were finished: the iron frame for the lantern was next
screwed together in its place, and the lantern soon completed. It
should have been noticed, that after the first entry was closed, the
shears were supported by a tackle called a guy, attached to the top
of the shears, and hooked so far on the outside of the building; the
stone being drawn up by a windlass, the guy was drawn in to swing
the stone over the building. The balcony rails and the stone
basement for the lantern having been completed, on the 17th of
September the cupola was set up by a particular kind of shears
constructed purposely, the guy in different places being fastened to
booms projecting from the several windows of the upper rooms; the
next day the ball was screwed on, and on the 11th of October, an
electrical conductor was fixed, which finished the edifice. A light was
then exhibited, which has continued to warn the mariner ever since.
An ably constructed cornice throws the spray from off the building,
so that it is often seen at Plymouth with the appearance of a white
sheet, throwing itself to double the height of the building, which
from low water mark to the apex of the ball is one hundred feet.
We have been thus minute, because this pharos is considered to
be the best constructed of all our lighthouses.
 ELECTRICITY.
Electricity was a property but imperfectly understood by the
ancients; indeed, it has been said, they were entirely unacquainted
with it. But we propose, shortly, to show the extent to which we are
informed their sphere of knowledge extended. This much cannot be
denied, that they were acquainted with the electrical properties of
amber, of which fact we are informed by Pliny.
Even before Pliny, however, as early as the days of Thalis, who
lived near six hundred years anterior to the Roman historian, the
Miletine philosophers ascribed the attractive power of the magnet
and of amber to animation by a vital principle. Our word “electricity”
appears to be derived from the name the Latins gave to amber,
electrum. It is also evident that they were acquainted with the shock
of the torpedo; although they were ignorant, as are the moderns, of
the concealed cause of this effect.
It has been asserted that the ancients knew how to collect the
electrical fire in the atmosphere; and it is also said, that it was in an
experiment of this nature that Tullus Hostilius lost his life.
Etymologists have carried us still farther back, and assert that it was
from the electrical property in the heavens that Jove obtained his
surname of Jupiter Eliaus. This, however, may be only conjectural.
The first discoveries made of sufficient importance to demand
the appellation of “scientific” in the science of electricity, were
effected by Dr. W. Gilbert, the result of which he gave the world, in
the year 1660, in a book then published, entitled “De Magneto,” and
Dr. Gilbert was followed in his pursuits by that celebrated scientific
character, the honourable and illustrious Boyle, and other men
eminent for that species of information.
This science was successfully cultivated in the last century by
many eminent philosophers, among whom we may mention
Hawkesbee, Grey, Muschenbrook, Doctors Franklin and Priestly,
Bishop Watson, Mr. Cavendish, and several other members of the
Royal Society of England; whilst those worthy of the true philosophic
character in France did not neglect its cultivation.
Many fatal accidents have resulted from experiments made by
people ignorant of the science. On the 6th of August, 1753, at
Petersburg, Professor Richmann lost his life by endeavouring to draw
the electric fluid into his house.
Electricity, like many others of the arcana of nature, still retains
almost as deeply shaded from human view as when its existence
was first made known. Nature appears to have certain secret
operations, which are not yet, perhaps, to be revealed.

ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.
This is the most surprising invention of modern times, and of the
greatest importance to a commercial people; by means of it
intelligence is conveyed from one end of the kingdom to another, in
the twinkling of an eye. A company was fully organised for the
carrying out this invention, which commenced its operations in 1848,
and established a system of no ordinary complication and extent.
Their wires stretch from Glasgow on the north, to Dorchester, on the
south, from the east coast, at Yarmouth, to the west, at Liverpool.
These have brought upwards of one hundred and fifty towns into
instant communication with each other. The wires set up for the use
of the public alone are upwards of nine thousand eight hundred
miles in length, and extend over a distance of two thousand and
sixty miles, and, exclusive of those running underground, and
through tunnels or rivers, are stretched on no fewer than sixty-one
thousand eight hundred posts, varying from sixteen to thirty feet in
height, and of an average square of eight inches, with an expensive
apparatus of insulators and winders attached to each. As the most
trifling derangement of the wires or apparatus will stop the
communication, it is obvious that the utmost care and watchfulness
is requisite to prevent and detect accidents. Accordingly, the whole
distance is divided into districts, each district having a
superintendent, and under him several inspectors, and a staff of
workmen, batterymen, and mechanics, more or less numerous,
according to the extent over which he presides.—When we consider
these things, in conjunction with the central staff of engineers,
secretaries, &c., at the head-establishment in London, a maximum
charge of one penny per mile cannot be considered an exorbitant
demand for the accommodation afforded to the public in keeping
open so many receiving stations, and the maintenance of the
expensive establishments. The telegraphic system is designed for
important and urgent messages, and it may be safely averred that
not one despatch in a hundred has been as yet forwarded by it,
which has not been by many times worth more than the sum paid by
the sender. A commercial house in Liverpool will scarcely grudge 8s.
6d. for a communication by which a necessary payment may be
made, an important order given, or a profitable operation facilitated
in London; and the message from Glasgow, which traverses a
distance of five hundred and twenty miles in an instant, to summon
a son from the metropolis, it may be, to the bedside of a dying
parent, cannot be judged exorbitant at a charge of 14s.,
considerably less than one halfpenny per mile.
Messrs. Wilmer and Smith, of Liverpool, publishers of the
“European Times,” have arranged the most admirable code of signals
in the world; and by the use of forty-eight letters are capable of
transmitting intelligence equal to half a column of an ordinary
newspaper. The telegraphic company disapprove of this species of
short-hand, and, therefore, charge for the forty-eight letters 13s.
This Messrs. Wilmer and Smith consider excessive, as they have
forwarded similar messages by telegraph, four thousand miles in
America, for 8s., and from Philadelphia to New York for 1s. These
gentlemen, therefore, consider they have cause to find fault with the
company in reference to charges for communications in cipher.
 STEAM-ENGINES.
The Steam-Engine is one of the most important of human
discoveries, and is certainly one of those which afford the greatest
portion of ease and advantage to the human species, as well in the
operation of its cause, as in its ultimate effects. The most powerful
of machines had its origin from the single idea of one individual of
our own nation. It has been, from time to time, improved by
different individuals, also natives of Britain, the precise period of
which improvements can be traced, and their effects fortunately
ascertained.
Although we should observe, that the first principle of this
mechanical power was discovered by some of the ancient nations,
many ages before that which gave the origin to the present
practised invention, but from the state of information, it is
conceived, to answer no purpose of utility. It may be said to have
occurred in a small machine which the ancients called an Æolipila
(the bull of Æolus) consisting of a hollow ball of metal, with a
slender neck, or pipe, also of metal, having a small orifice entering
into the ball, by means of a screw; this pipe being taken out, the ball
being filled with water, and the pipe again screwed in, the ball is
heated—there issues from the orifice, when sufficiently hot, a
vapour, with great violence and noise; care was required that this
should not be by accident stopped, if it were, the machine would
infallibly burst, and perhaps, to the danger of the lives of all in its
vicinity, so immense is its power.
Another way of introducing the water was first to heat the ball
when empty, and then suddenly to immerse it in water. Descartes, in
particular, has used this instrument to account for the natural
generation of winds. Chauvin thinks it might be employed instead of
bellows, to blow a fire. It would admirably serve to fumigate a room,
being filled with perfume instead of common water. It is said to have
been applied to clear chimneys of their soot, a practice still alleged
to be common in Italy. Dr. Plott, in his “History of Staffordshire,”
records this singular custom, where the Æolipila is used to blow the
fire. “The lord of the mannor of Essington is bound by his tenure to
drive a goose, every New Year’s day, three times round the hall of
the Lord of Hilton, while Jack of Hilton, a brazen Æolipila, blows the
fire.” The last circumstance we shall mention of this instrument, has
relation to an antique one, discovered whilst digging the Basingstoke
canal, representing a grotesque metallic figure, in which the blast
proceeded from the mouth. This figure is now in the possession of
the Society of Antiquaries of London. In this instrument, the
uncommon elastic force of steam was recognised before the
suggestion of the Marquis of Worcester, which follows:
“In 1655, or subsequent thereto, the Marquis of Worcester
published the earliest account of the application of this power for the
purposes of utility, and suggested it as applicable to raising water.
‘Sixty-eight. An admirable and most forcible way to drive up water by
fire; not by drawing or sucking it upwards, for that would be what
the philosopher calleth it, intra spherum actroctatis, which is, but at
such a distance. But this way has no bounder, if the vessel be strong
enough; for I have taken a whole piece of cannon, whereof the end
was burst, stopping and screwing up the broken end, as also the
touch-hole; and making a constant fire under it, within twenty-four
hours it burst and made a great crack: so that having a way to make
my vessels, so that they are strengthened by the force within them,
and the one to fill after the other, I have seen the water run like a
constant fountain stream, forty feet high; one vessel of cold water
being consumed, another begins to force and refill with cold water,
and so successively; the fire being tended and kept constant, which
the self-same person may likewise abundantly perform, in the
interim between the necessity of turning the cocks.’”
 The marquis’s ingenuity did not, it appears, meet with that
attention which it deserved, from those to whom his communication
was addressed. In the article of steam it has been since very much
improved, and is acted upon for the most useful of purposes; also
his ideas for short-hand telegraphs, floating baths, escutcheons for
locks, moulds for candles, and a mode to disengage horses from a
carriage, after they have taken fright; which, with several others,
proclaim the originality and ingenuity of the mind of this nobleman—
an honour which very few of the British nobility aspire to.
Since his time, another design upon the same principle has been
projected by Captain Thomas Savery, a commissioner of sick and
wounded, who in the year 1691 obtained a patent for “a new
invention for raising water, and occasioning motion to all sorts of
mill-work, by the impellant force of fire.” This patent bears date the
25th of July, sixteenth of William III., A. D. 1698. The patent states
that the invention will be of great use for drawing of mines, serving
towns with water, and working all sorts of mills. “Mr. Savery, June
14th, 1699, entertained the Royal Society with showing a model of
his engine for raising water by help of fire, which he set to work
before them; the experiment succeeded according to expectation.”
The above memoir is accompanied with a copperplate figure,
with references by way of description; from whence it appears, that
the engine then shown by Captain Savery was for raising water, not
only by the expansive force of steam, like the Marquis of
Worcester’s, but also by the condensation of steam, the water being
raised by the pressure of a rarified atmosphere to a given height, by
the expansive force of steam, in the same manner as the Marquis
proposed. This action was performed alternately in two receivers, so
that while the vacuum formed in one was drawing up water from the
well, the pressure of steam in the other was forcing up water into
the reservoir; but both receivers being supplied by one suction-pipe
and one forcing-pipe, the engine could be made to keep a continual
stream, so as to suffer very little interruption. This engine of Captain
Savery’s displays much ingenuity, and is almost as perfect in its
contrivance as the same engine has been made since his time. We
regret, that without a figure we cannot supply a perfect description
of it.
However, it appears that it was necessary to have two boilers, or
vessels of copper, one large and the other smaller: those boilers
have a gauge-pipe inserted into the smaller boiler, within about eight
inches of its bottom, and about the centre of the side of the larger
boiler; the small boiler must be quite full of water, and the larger one
only about two-thirds full. The fire is then to be lighted beneath the
larger boiler, to make the water boil, by which means the steam
being confined, will be greatly compressed, and will, therefore, on
opening a way for it to issue out (which is done by pushing the
handle of a regulator from the operator), rush with great violence
through a steam-pipe into a receiver, driving out all the air before it,
sending it up into a force-pipe through a clack, as may be perceived
from its noise; when the air is expelled, the receiver will be very
much heated by the steam. When it is thoroughly emptied of
atmospheric air, and grown very hot, which may be both seen and
felt, then the handle of the regulator is to be drawn towards the
operator, by which means the first steam-pipe will be stopped, so
that no more steam can rise into the first receiver, by which means a
second receiver will be filled in like manner. Whilst this is doing,
some cold water must be poured on the first receiver, by which
means the steam in it will be cooled, and thereby condensed into
smaller room: consequently the pressure in the valve, or cock, at the
bottom of the receiver—there being nothing to counterbalance the
atmospheric pressure at the surface of the receiver in the inner part
of the sucking-pipe, it will be pressed up into the receiver, driving up
before it the valve at the bottom, which afterwards falling again,
prevents the descent of the water that way. Then the first receiver
being, at the same time, emptied of its air, push the handle of the
regulator, and the steam which rises from the boiler will act upon the
surface of the water contained in the first receiver, where the force
or pressure on it still increasing its elasticity, till it exceeds the weight
of a column of water in another receiving-pipe, then it will
necessarily drive up through the passage into the force-pipe, and
eventually discharge itself at the top of the machinery.
After the same manner, though alternately, is the first receiver
filled and emptied of water, and by this means a regular stream kept
continually running out of the top of a force-pipe, and so the water
is raised very often from the bottom of a mine, to the place where it
is meant to be discharged.
It should be added, that after the machine begins to work, and
the water has risen into and filled the force-pipe, it fills also a little
cistern, and by that means fills another pipe, called the condensing-
pipe, which may be turned either way, over any of the receivers,
when either is thoroughly heated by, the steam, to condense it
within, thereby producing a vacuum, which absorbs the water out of
the well into the receiver, on the principle of a syphon. Also a little
above the cistern goes another pipe to convey the water from the
force-pipe into the lesser boiler, for the purpose of replenishing the
great boiler, when the water in it begins to be almost consumed.
Whenever there is occasion for this, the cock is to be turned which
communicates between the force-pipe and the lesser boiler, to close
it effectually; at the same time having put a little fire beneath the
small boiler, which will grow hot; its own steam, which has no vent
to escape, pressing on its surface, will force the water up another
pipe, through an aperture in the great boiler, and so long will it run,
till the surface of the water gets so low as to be beneath the bottom
of the pipe of communication—then the steam and water running
together, will cause the valve (called a clack) to strike, which will
intimate to the operator that it has discharged itself into the greater
boiler, and carried in as much water as is then necessary; after
which, by turning a cock, as much fresh water is let in as may be
necessary; and then, by turning another cock, new fresh water is let
out of a recipient into the less boiler as before; and thus the engine
is supplied without fear of decay, or any delay in the operations; and
proper attention in the workmen is only necessary to prevent
disorder in a machine so expensive and complicated.
 Also, to know when the great boiler wants replenishing, turn the
gauge-cock; if water comes out, it does not need a supply; but if
steam alone, then the want of water is certain. The like with the
cock with which the lesser boiler is prepared for the same purpose,
when the same state will be marked by like results. In working this
engine, very little skill, and less labour is required: Attention is the
chief requisite; it is only to be injured by want of due care, extreme
stupidity, or wilful neglect.
The engine described above, does not differ essentially from that
first designed by the inventor, Captain Savery; the chief alteration
which now occurs, is only in some few slight particulars. For
example, the original engine had only one boiler, and there was no
ready means for supplying it with water, to remedy the waste
occasioned by evaporation of steam, without stopping the action of
the engine, whenever the boiler was emptied to such a degree as to
risk burning the vessel. After it was replenished the machine had to
remain idle till the steam was raised, thus causing an immense loss
of time; which is remedied by the application of a second boiler.
The description of the engine formerly mentioned is transcribed
from Mr. Savery’s publication, “The Miner’s Friend,” and which had a
subsidiary boiler, with water of a boiling heat, always ready to supply
the large boiler; and the power of steam raised in it is employed to
force the water into the larger boiler, to replace the waste
occasioned by evaporation from that boiler; by this means the
transposition of the feeding water is not only speedily performed,
but being itself of a boiling heat, it is instantly ready to produce
steam for carrying on the work. There is also one more grand
improvement in the modern machine: the first engine was worked
by four separate cocks, which the operator was compelled to turn
separately at every change of stroke; if he turned them wrong, he
was not only liable to damage the engine, but he prevented its
effect, and, at the same time, lost a part of the operation: whereas,
in the improved engine, the communications are made by a double
sliding valve, or, as it has since been termed, regulator; that is, a
brass plate, shaped like a fan, and moving on a centre within the
boiler, so as to slide horizontally in contact with the under surface of
the cover of the boiler, to which it is accurately fitted by grinding,
and thus, at pleasure, opens or shuts the orifices, or entries, to the
steam pipes of the two receivers alternately. This regulator acts with
less friction than a cock of equal bore, and, by the motion of a single
handle backwards, at once opens the proper steam pipe from one
receiver, and closes that which belongs to the other receiver. Captain
Savery, in his publication before noticed, describes the uses to which
this machine may be applied, besides those before described, viz.—
1, to serve water for turning all sorts of mills; 2, for supplying
palaces, noblemen and gentlemen’s houses with water, and affording
the means for extinguishing fires therein, by the water so raised; 3,
the supplying cities and towns with water; 4, draining fens and
marshes; 5, for ships; 6, for draining mines of water; and 7, for
preventing damps in mines.
Dr. Desaguliers, we conceive, ungenerously attacked Captain
Savery’s reputation, by alleging that this was not an original
invention, and that he was indebted for the first idea to the
previously mentioned plan of the Marquis of Worcester. Dr. Rees,
with a generous liberality worthy his great critical discrimination,
scientific skill, and general erudition, has, we think, ably defended
the captain’s character, by proving his ideas to have originated with
himself; we have only an opportunity to notice the most prominent
features in this justification, where Dr. Rees thus expresses himself.
“We know that the Marquis of Worcester gave no hint concerning
the contractibility or condensation of steam, upon which all the merit
of the modern engine depends. The Marquis of Worcester’s engine
was actuated wholly by the elastic power of steam, which he either
found out, or proved by the bursting of cannon in part filled with
water; and not the least hint that steam so expanded, is capable of
being so far contracted in an instant, as to leave the space it
occupied in a vessel, and occasion, in a great measure, a vacuum.”
Subsequent to the Marquis of Worcester’s, and Captain Savery’s
original ideas, and also, subsequent to the perfection the captain
had brought his machine to, M. Amonton, a native of France,
invented a machine which he called a fire-wheel; but it does not
appear that it was ever brought to that perfection to be conducive to
real utility, although it was certainly very ingenious.
Also, M. Papin, a native of Germany, made some pretensions to
what he alleged was an invention of his own, only it happened to
appear, unfortunately for his claim, that he was in London, and
present at the time when Captain Savery exhibited the model of his
steam-engine to the Royal Society. He made some unsuccessful
experiments, by order of his patron, the Landgrave of Hesse, which
sufficiently proved that, if he was the inventor, he did not
understand the nature of his own machine.
Not long after Savery had invented his engine, Thomas
Newcomen, an ironmonger, and John Calley, a glazier, began to
direct their attention to the employment of steam as a mechanic
power. Their first engine was constructed about the year 1711. This
machine still acted on the principle of condensing the steam by
means of cold water, and the pressure of the atmosphere on the
piston. It was found of great value in pumping water from deep
mines; but the mode of its construction, the great waste of fuel, the
continued cooling and heating of the cylinder, and the limited
capacities of the atmosphere in impelling the piston downward, all
tended to circumscribe its utility.
The steam-engine was in this state, when it happily attracted the
attention of Mr. Watt, to whom the merit and honour is due, of
having first rendered this invention available as a mechanical agent.
We cannot illustrate the improvements of this ingenious individual
better than by giving a short biographical sketch of him to whom the
world is so much indebted.
James Watt was born at Greenock, an extensive seaport in the
west of Scotland, on the 19th of January, 1736. His father was a
merchant, and also one of the magistrates of that town. He received
the rudiments of his education in his native place; but his health
being then extremely delicate, as it continued to be to the end of his
life, his attendance at school was not always very regular. He amply
made up, however, for what he lost in this way, by the diligence with
which he pursued his studies at home, where, without any
assistance, he succeeded, at a very early age, in making
considerable proficiency in various branches of knowledge. Even at
this time it is said his favourite study was mechanical science, to a
love of which he was probably in some degree led by the example of
his grandfather and his uncle, both of whom had been teachers of
mathematics, and had left a considerable reputation for learning and
ability in that department. Young Watt, however, was not indebted to
any instruction of theirs for his own acquirements in science, the
former having died two years before, and the latter one year after
he was born. At the age of eighteen he was sent to London, to be
apprenticed to a maker of mathematical instruments; but in little
more than a year the state of his health forced him to return to
Scotland; and he never received any further instruction in his
profession. A year or two after this, however, a visit which he paid to
some relations in Glasgow, suggested to him the plan of attempting
to establish himself in that city, in the line for which he had been
educated. In 1757, he accordingly removed thither, and was
immediately appointed mathematical instrument maker to the
College. In this situation he remained for some years, during which,
notwithstanding almost constant ill health, he continued both to
prosecute his profession, and to labour in the general cultivation of
his mind, with extraordinary ardour and perseverance. Here also he
enjoyed the intimacy and friendship of several distinguished persons,
who were then members of the University, especially of the
celebrated Dr. Black, the discoverer of the principle of latent heat,
and Dr. Robison, so well known by his treatises on mechanical
science, who was then a student, and about the same age as
himself. Honourable, however as his present appointment was, and
important as were many of the advantages to which it introduced
him, he probably did not find it a very lucrative one; and therefore,
in 1763, when about to marry, he removed from his apartments in
the University, to a house in the city, and entered upon the
profession of a general engineer.
 For this his genius and scientific attainments most admirably
qualified him. Accordingly he soon acquired a high reputation, and
was extensively employed in making surveys and estimates for
canals, harbours, bridges, and other public works. His advice and
assistance were sought for in almost all the important improvements
of this description, which were now undertaken or proposed in his
native country. But another pursuit, in which he had been for some
time privately engaged, was destined ere long to withdraw him from
this line of exertion, and to occupy his whole mind with an object
still more worthy of its extraordinary powers.
While yet residing in the College, his attention had been directed
to the employment of steam as a mechanical agent, by some
speculations of his friend Mr. Robison, with regard to the
practicability of applying it to the movement of wheel-carriages; and
he had also himself made some experiments with Papin’s digester,
with the view of ascertaining its expansive force. He had not
prosecuted the inquiry, however, so far as to have arrived at any
determinate result, when the winter of 1763–4, a small model of
Newcomen’s engine was sent him by the Professor of Natural
Philosophy, to be repaired, and fitted for exhibition in the class. The
examination of this model set Watt upon thinking anew, and with
more interest than ever, on the powers of steam. Struck with the
radical imperfections of the atmospheric engine, he began to turn in
his mind the possibility of employing steam in mechanics, in some
new manner which should enable it to work with much more
powerful effect. This idea having got possession of him, he engaged
in an extensive course of experiments, for the purpose of
ascertaining as many facts as possible with regard to the properties
of steam; and the pains he took in this investigation were rewarded
with several valuable discoveries. The rapidity with which water
evaporates he found, for instance, depended simply upon the
quantity of heat which was made to enter it; and this again, on the
extent of the surface exposed to the fire. He also ascertained the
quantity of coals necessary for the evaporation of any given quantity
of water, the heat at which water boils, under various pressures, and
many other particulars of a similar kind, which had never before
been accurately determined.
Thus prepared by a complete knowledge of the properties of the
agent with which he had to work, he next took into consideration,
with a view to their amendment, what he deemed the two great
defects of Newcomen’s engine. The first of these was the necessity
arising from the method employed to concentrate the steam, of
cooling the cylinder, before every stroke of the piston, by the water
injected into it. On this account, a much more powerful application
of heat than would otherwise have been requisite was demanded for
the purpose of again heating that vessel when it was to be refilled
with steam. In fact, Watt ascertained that there was thus
occasioned, in the feeding of the machine, a waste of not less than
three-fourths of the whole fuel employed. If the cylinder, instead of
being thus cooled for every stroke of the piston, could be
permanently hot, a fourth part of the heat which had hitherto been
applied would be found sufficient to produce steam enough to fill it.
How then was this desideratum to be obtained? Savery, the first who
really constructed a working engine, and whose arrangements, as
we have already remarked, all showed a very superior ingenuity,
employed the method of throwing cold water over the outside of the
vessel containing the steam—a perfectly manageable process, but at
the same time a very wasteful one; inasmuch as every time it was
repeated, it cooled not only the steam, but the vessel also, which,
therefore, had again to be heated, by a large expenditure of fuel,
before the steam could be produced. Newcomen’s method of
injecting the water into the cylinder was a considerable improvement
on this; but it was still objectionable on the same ground, though
not to the same degree; it still cooled not only the steam, on which
it was desired to produce that effect, but also the cylinder itself,
which, as the vessel in which more steam was to be immediately
manufactured, it was so important to keep hot. It was also a very
serious objection to this last mentioned plan, that the injected water,
itself, from the heat of the place into which it was thrown, was very
apt to be partly converted into steam; and the more cold water was
used, the more considerable did this creation of new steam become.
In fact, in the last of Newcomen’s engines, the rarefaction of the
vacuum was so greatly improved from this cause, that the resistance
experienced by the piston in its descent was found to amount to
about a fourth part of the whole atmospheric pressure by which it
was carried down, or, in other words, the working power of the
machine was thereby diminished one-fourth.
After reflecting for some time upon all this, it at last occurred to
Watt to consider whether it might not be possible, instead of
continuing to condense the steam in the cylinder, to contrive that
method of drawing it off, to undergo that operation in some other
vessel. This fortunate idea having presented itself to his mind, it was
not long before his ingenuity suggested to him the means of
realising it. In the course of one or two days, according to his own
account, he had all the necessary apparatus arranged in his mind.
The plan which he devised was, indeed, an extremely simple one,
and on that account the more beautiful. He proposed to establish a
communication by an open pipe, between the cylinder and another
vessel, the consequence of which evidently would be, that when the
steam was admitted into the former, it would flow into the other to
fill it also. If, then, the portion in this latter vessel only should be
subjected to a condensing process, by being brought into contact
with cold water, or any other convenient means, what would follow?
Why, a vacuum would be produced here—into that, as a vent, more
steam would immediately rush from the cylinder—that likewise
would be condensed—and so the process would go on till all the
steam had left the cylinder, and a perfect vacuum had been effected
in that vessel, without so much as a drop of cold water having
touched or entered it. The separate vessel alone, or the condenser,
as Watt called it, would be cooled by the water used to condense the
steam—and that, instead of being an evil, manifestly tended to
promote and quicken the condensation. When Watt reduced his
views to the test of experiment, he found the result to answer his
most sanguine expectations. The cylinder, although emptied of its
steam for every stroke of the piston as before, was now constantly
kept at the same temperature with the steam (or 212 deg.
Fahrenheit); and the consequence was, that one-fourth of the fuel
formerly required, sufficed to feed the engine. But besides this most
important saving in the expense of maintaining the engine, its power
was greatly increased by the most perfect vacuum produced in the
new construction, in which the condensing water, being no longer
admitted within the cylinder, could not, as before, create new steam
there while displacing the old.
Such, then, was the remedy by which the genius of this great
inventor effectually cured the first and most serious defect of the old
apparatus. In carrying his ideas into execution, he encountered, as
was to be expected, many difficulties, arising principally from the
impossibility of realising theoretical perfection of structure with such
materials as human art is obliged to work with; but his ingenuity and
perseverance overcame every obstacle. One of the things which cost
him the greatest trouble was, how to fit the piston so exactly to the
cylinder, as, without affecting the freedom of its motion, to prevent
the passage of the air between the two. In the old engine this end
had been obtained by covering the piston with a small quantity of
water, the dripping down of which into the space below, where it
merely mixed with the stream introduced to effect the condensation,
was of little or no consequence. But in the new construction, the
superiority of which consisted in keeping this receptacle for the
steam always both hot and dry, such an effusion of moisture,
although in very small quantities, would have occasioned material
inconvenience. The air alone, besides, which in the old engine
followed the piston in its descent, acted with considerable effect in
cooling the lower part of the cylinder. His attempts to overcome this
difficulty, while they succeeded in that object, conducted Watt also
to another improvement, which effected the complete removal of
what we have called the second radical imperfection of Newcomen’s
engine, namely, its non-employment for a moving power, of the
expansive force of steam. The effectual way it occurred to him of
preventing any air from escaping into the part of the cylinder below
the piston, would be to dispense with the use of that element above
the piston, and to substitute there likewise the same contrivance as
below, of alternate steam and a vacuum. This was, of course, to be
accomplished by merely opening communications from the upper
part of the cylinder to the boiler on the one hand, and the condenser
on the other, and forming it at the same time into an air-tight
chamber, by means of a cover, with only a hole in it to admit the rod
or shank of the piston, which might, besides, without impeding its
freedom of action, be padded with hemp, the more completely to
exclude the air. It was so contrived accordingly, by a proper
arrangement of the cocks and the machinery connected with them;
that, while there was a vacuum in one end of the cylinder, there
should be an admission of steam into the other; and the steam so
admitted now served, not only by its susceptibility of sudden
condensation to create the vacuum, but also, by its expansive force,
to impel the piston.
These were the great improvements which Watt introduced in
what may be called the principle of the steam-engine, or, in other
words, in the manner of using and applying the steam. They
constitute, therefore, the grounds of his claim to be regarded as the
true author of the conquest that has been obtained by man over this
powerful element. But original and comprehensive as were the views
out of which these fundamental inventions arose, the exquisite and
inexhaustible ingenuity which the engine, as finally perfected by him,
displays in every part of its subordinate mechanism, is calculated to
strike us perhaps with scarcely less admiration. It forms undoubtedly
the best exemplification that has ever been afforded of the number
and diversity of services which a piece of machinery may be made to
render to itself, by means solely of the various application of its first
moving power, when that has once been called into action. Of these
contrivances, however, we can only notice one or two, by way of
specimen. Perhaps the most singular is that called the governor. This
consists of an upright spindle, which is kept constantly turning, by
being connected with a certain part of the machinery, and from
which two balls are suspended, in opposite directions, by rods,
attached by joints, somewhat in the manner of the legs of a pair of
tongs. As long as the motion of the engine is uniform, that of the
spindle is so likewise, and the balls continue steadily revolving at the
same distance from each other. But as soon as any alteration in the
action of the piston takes place, the balls, if it has become more
rapid, fly further apart under the influence of the increased
centrifugal force which actuates them; or approach nearer to each
other in the opposite circumstances. This alone would have served
to indicate the state of matters to the eye; but Watt was not to be
so satisfied. He connected the rods with a valve in the tube by which
the steam is admitted to the cylinder from the boiler, in such a way,
that as they retreat from each other, they gradually narrow the
opening which is so guarded, or enlarge it as they tend to collapse;
thus diminishing the supply of steam when the engine is going too
fast, and when it is not going fast enough, enabling it to regain its
proper speed by allowing it an increase of aliment.
Again the constant supply of a sufficiency of water to the boiler
is secured by an equally simple provision, namely, by a float resting
on the surface of the water which, as soon as it is carried down by
the consumption of the water to a certain point opens a valve and
admits more. And so on through all the different parts of the
apparatus, the various wonders of which cannot be better summed
up than in the forcible and graphic language of a recent writer:—“In
the present perfect state of the engine it appears a thing almost
endowed with intelligence. It regulates, with perfect accuracy and
uniformity, the number of its strokes in a given time, counting, or
recording them moreover, to tell how much work it has done, as a
clock records the beats of its pendulum; it regulates the quantity of
steam admitted to work; the briskness of the fire; the supply of
water to the boiler; the supply of coals to the fire; it opens and shuts
its valves with absolute precision as to time and manner; it oils its
joints; it takes out any air which may accidentally enter into parts
which should be vacuous; and when any thing goes wrong, which it
cannot of itself rectify, it warns its attendants by ringing a bell; yet,
with all these talents and qualities, and even when exerting the
power of six hundred horses, it is obedient to the hand of a child; its
aliment is coal, wood, charcoal, or other combustible—it consumes
none when idle—it never tires, and wants no sleep; it is not subject
to malady when originally well made, and only refuses to work when
worn out with age; it is equally active in all climates, and will do
work of any kind; it is a water-pumper, a miner, a sailor, a cotton-
spinner, a weaver, a blacksmith, a miller, &c., &c.; and a small
engine, in the character of a steam pony, may be seen dragging
after it on a rail-road a hundred tons of merchandise, or a regiment
of soldiers, with greater speed than that of the fleetest coaches. It is
the king of machines, and a permanent realisation of the Genii of
Eastern fable, whose supernatural powers were occasionally at the
command of man.”
In addition to those difficulties which his unrivalled mechanical
ingenuity enabled him to surmount, Watt, notwithstanding the merit
of his inventions, had to contend for some time with others of a
different nature, in his attempts to reduce them to practice. He had
no pecuniary resources of his own, and was at first without any
friend willing to run the risk of the outlay necessary for an
experiment on a sufficiently large scale. At last he applied to Dr.
Roebuck, an ingenious and spirited speculator, who had just
established the Carron iron-works, not far from Glasgow, and held
also at the same time a lease of the extensive coal-works at Kinneal,
the property of the Duke of Hamilton. Dr. Roebuck agreed to
advance the requisite funds, on having two-thirds of the profits
made over to him; and upon this Mr. Watt took out his first patent in
the beginning of the year 1769. An engine with a cylinder of
eighteen inches diameter was soon after erected at Kinneal; and
although, as a first experiment, it was necessarily, in some respects,
of defective construction, its working completely demonstrated the
value of Watt’s improvements. But Dr. Roebuck, whose undertakings
were very numerous and various, in no long time after forming this
connexion, found himself involved in such pecuniary difficulties, as to
put it out of his power to make any further advances in prosecution
of its object. On this Watt applied himself for some years almost
entirely to the ordinary work of his profession as a civil engineer; but
at last, about the year 1774, when all hopes of any farther
assistance from Dr. Roebuck were at an end, he resolved to close
with a proposal which had been made to him through his friend, Dr.
Small, of Birmingham, that he should remove to that town, and
enter into partnership with the eminent hardware manufacturer, Mr.
Boulton, whose extensive establishments at Soho had already
become famous over Europe, and procured for England an unrivalled
reputation for the arts there carried on. Accordingly an arrangement
having been made with Dr. Roebuck, by which his share of the
patent was transferred to Mr. Boulton, the firm of Boulton and Watt
commenced the business of making steam-engines, in the year
1775.
Mr. Watt now obtained from parliament an extension of his
patent for twenty-five years, in consideration of the acknowledged
national importance of his inventions. The first thing which he and
his partner did was to erect an engine at Soho, which they invited all
persons interested in such machines to inspect. They then proposed
to erect similar machines wherever required, on the very liberal
principle of receiving, as payment for each, only one-third of the
saving in fuel which it should effect, as compared with one of the old
construction.
But the draining of mines was only one of the many applications
of the steam-power now at his command, which Watt contemplated,
and in course of time accomplished. During the whole twenty-five
years, indeed, over which his renewed patent extended, the
perfecting of his invention was his chief occupation, and
notwithstanding a delicate state of health, and the depressing
affliction of severe headaches, to which he was extremely subject,
he continued throughout this period to persevere with unwearied
diligence in adding new improvements to the mechanism of the
engine, and devising the means of applying it to new purposes of
usefulness. He devoted, in particular, the exertions of many years, to
the contriving of the best methods of making the action of the piston
communicate a rotary motion in various circumstances, and between
the years 1781 and 1785, he took out four different patents for
inventions having this in his view.
It is gratifying to reflect, that even while he was yet alive, Watt
received from the most illustrious contemporaries, the honours due
to his genius. In 1785, he was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society;
the degree of Doctor of Laws was conferred upon him by the
University of Glasgow, in 1806; and in 1808, he was elected a
member of the French Institute. He died on the 25th of August,
1819, in the 84th year of his age.
The beneficial results arising from the ingenuity of Watt have
been surprising. The steam-engine has already gone far to
revolutionise the whole domain of human industry; and almost every
year is adding to its power and its conquests. In our manufactures,
our arts, our commerce, our social accommodations, it is constantly
achieving what, little more than half a century ago, would have been
accounted miraculous and impossible. “The trunk of an elephant,” it
has been finely and truly said, “that can pick up a pin, or rend an
oak, is as nothing to it. It can engrave a seal, and crush masses of
obdurate metal like wax before it—draw out, without breaking, a
thread as fine as gossamer, and lift a ship of war, like a bauble, in
the air. It can embroider muslins, and forge anchors; cut steel into
ribbands, and impel loaded vessels against the fury of the winds and
waves.”
Another application of it is perhaps destined to be productive of
still greater changes on the condition of society, than have resulted
from many of its previous achievements,—we refer to railroads. The
first great experiment was the Liverpool and Manchester Railway,
which was opened, we believe, in 1831, and practically
demonstrated, with what hitherto almost undreamt of rapidity
travelling by land may be carried on through the aid of steam.
Carriages, under the impetus communicated by this the most potent,
and at the same time the most perfectly controllable of all our
mechanical agencies, can be drawn forward at the flying speed of
thirty and thirty-five miles an hour. When so much has been already
done, it would be rash to conclude that even this is to be our
ultimate limit of attainment. In navigation, the resistance of the
water, which increases rapidly as the force opposed to it increases,
very soon set bounds to the rate at which even the power of steam
can impel a vessel forward. But on land, the thin medium of the air
presents no such insurmountable obstacles to a force making its way
through it; and a rapidity of movement may perhaps be eventually
attained here, which is to us even as yet inconceivable. But even
when the rate of land travelling already shown to be quite
practicable shall have become universal, in what a new state of
society shall we find ourselves! A nation will then, indeed, become a
community; and all the benefits of the highest civilization will be
diffused equally over the land, like the light of heaven. This
invention, in short, when fully consummated, will confer upon man
as much new power and enjoyment as if he were actually endowed
with wings.
The commerce of the kingdom has also greatly benefited by the
introduction of this valuable auxiliary, as will be seen from the
following extract from the “Working Man’s Companion:”—
“The establishment of steam-boats between England and Ireland
has greatly contributed to the prosperity of both countries. How
have steam boats done this? They have greatly increased the trade
of both countries. On the examination of Mr. Williams, before a
Committee of the House of Commons, he stated that ‘before steam-
boats were established, there was little trade in the smaller articles
of farming production, such as poultry and eggs. The first trading
steam-boat from Liverpool to Dublin, was set up in 1824; there are
now (1832) forty such boats between England and Ireland. The
sailing vessels were from one week to two or three weeks on the
passage; the voyage from Liverpool to Dublin is now performed in
fourteen hours. Reckoning ten mile, for an hour, Dublin and
Liverpool are one hundred and forty miles apart; with the old vessels
taking twelve days as the average time of the voyage, they were
separated as completely as they would be by a distance of two
thousand eight hundred and eighty miles. What is the consequence?
Traders may now have, from any of the manufacturing towns in
England, within two or three days, even the smallest quantity of any
description of goods;’ and thus ‘one of the effects has been to give a
productive employment of the capital of persons in secondary lines
of business, that formerly could not have been brought into action.’”
Mr. Williams adds, ‘I am a daily witness to the intercourse by means
of the small traders themselves between England and Ireland. Those
persons find their way into the interior of England, and purchase
manufactured goods themselves. They are, of course, enabled to sell
them upon much better terms in Ireland; and I anticipate that this
will shortly lead to the creation of shops and other establishments in
the interior of Ireland for the sale of a great variety of articles which
are not now to be had there.’
“And how do the small dealers in English manufactured goods
find purchasers in the rude districts of Ireland for our cloths and our
hardware? Because the little farmers have sent us their butter and
eggs and poultry, and have either taken our manufactures in
exchange, or have taken back our money to purchase our
manufactures, which is the same thing. Many millions of eggs,
collected amongst the very poorest classes, by the industry of the
women and children, are annually sent from Dublin to Liverpool. Mr.
Williams has known fifty tons, or eight hundred and eighty thousand
eggs, shipped in one day, as well as ten tons of poultry; and he says
this is quite a new creation of property. It is a creation of property
that has a direct tendency to act upon the condition of the poorest
classes in Ireland; for the produce is laid out in providing clothes for
the females and children of the families who engage in rearing
poultry and collecting eggs. Thus the English manufacturer is
bettered, for he has a new market for his manufactures, which he
exchanges for cheap provisions; and the dealer in eggs and poultry
has a new impulse to this branch of industry, because it enables him
to give clothes to his wife and children. This exchange of benefits—
this advancement in the condition of both parties—this creation of
produce and of profitable labour—this increase of the number of
labourers—could not have taken place without machinery. That
machinery is the carriage which conveys the produce to the river,
and the steam-boat which makes a port in another country much
nearer for practical purposes, than the market town of a thinly
peopled district. A new machinery is added; the steam-carriage
running on the railroad, as one of the witnesses truly says, ‘is like
carrying Liverpool forty miles into the interior, and thus extending
the circle to which the supply will be applicable.’ The last invention
perfects all the inventions which have preceded it. The village and
the city are brought close together in effort, and yet retain all the
advantages of their local situation; the port and the manufactory are
divided only by two hours distance in time, while their distance in
space affords room for all the various occupations which contribute
to the perfection of either. The whole territory of Great Britain and
Ireland is more compact, more closely united, more accessible than
was a single county two centuries ago.”
The communication between England and Ireland has greatly
increased since the above remarks were written, in 1832. There are
now upwards of four hundred steam-boats sailing between Ireland
and Great Britain, and of late years the largest export from that
unfortunate country consists of her starving population, who, true
enough, find their way into the interior of England, but not with the
intention of purchasing manufactured goods, but of being employed
in the manufacturing of them. We believe that our mechanical
readers, at least, will agree with us, when we say that the benefit
has not been reciprocal. England, for her share, has been burthened
with a pauper population, and her sons deprived of their
employment, by the immense immigration that has of late years
taken place. Poor rates are multiplied to an extent hitherto unheard
of, and our streets swarming with beggars—and those of the most
importunate class. So much was this the case, that in 1847 and
1848, Liverpool was inundated with paupers from the sister country
to such a degree, that her authorities were compelled to petition
government to put an end to the nuisance, and to grant them
assistance to prevent the death of so many thousands of their
fellow-men from dying for want; the poor-rates were so increased
that the ratepayers with justice complained. And we question much
if ever the English manufactures have been so much benefited by
the commerce as the foregoing quotation would lead us to believe.
That we have been supplied with enormous quantities of provisions
we cannot deny; but that the payment of these was taken back in
our cloths and our hardware is very questionable. That the money
was taken back there can be little doubt, not for the purpose,
however, of buying clothes for the wives and children of those
families whose industry had supplied us with eggs and poultry, but
for supplying the insatiate wants of their profligate landlords, who
were squandering the subsistence of the needy peasantry in another
land. If any class of men have obtained benefit by means of this
increased and speedy communication between the two countries, it
assuredly is the absentee Irish landlord.
 MILLS.
Corn Mills are of very ancient origin, and it may not be uninteresting
to our readers to learn something of the customs of our forefathers
with regard to them; to which we will subjoin such modern
improvements as the more advanced state of the arts have enabled
the moderns to achieve, and to excel the imperfect information of
the ancients in mechanical sciences.
In support of the antiquity of grinding corn, we may go as for
back as the days of the patriarch Abraham, who, we are informed in
Genesis xviii. 6, “hastened into the tent unto Sarah, and said, Make
ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes
upon the hearth.” To this we may add, that it appears in a
subsequent text, Numbers xi. 8, that manna was ground like corn.
The earliest instrument for this purpose seems to have been the
mortar, which was retained long after the introduction of mills,
properly so called: because they were most probably at first very
imperfect. In process of time the mortar was made ridged, and the
pestle notched at the bottom, by which means the grain was rather
grated than pounded.
A passage in Pliny, which has not as yet had a satisfactory
interpretation, renders this conjecture probable. In time a handle
was added to the top of the pestle, that it might be more easily
driven round in a circle, whence this machine at first was called
mortarium, by this means assuming the name of a hand-mill. Such a
mill was so called from rubbing backwards and forwards; and varied
but little from those used by our colour-grinders, apothecaries,
potters, and other artisans. From expressions in the sacred volume,
we may rationally infer that it was customary to have a mill of this
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