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Nature's Miracles: Familiar Talks on Science, Vol. 1.

<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> <h3>AIR TEMPERATURE.</h3> The most recent definition of heat is that it is a mode of motion; not movement of a mass of substance, but movement of its ultimate particles. It has been determined by experiment that the ability of any substance to absorb heat depends upon the number of atoms it contains, rather than its bulk or its weight. It has also been stated that the atmosphere at sea-level weighs about fifteen pounds to the square inch, which means that a column of air one inch square extending from sea-level upward to the extreme limit of the atmosphere weighs fifteen pounds. The density of the air decreases as we ascend. Each successive layer, as we ascend, is more and more expanded, and consequently has a less and less number of air molecules in a given space. Therefore the capacity of the air for holding heat decreases as we go higher. We deduce from these facts that the higher we go the colder it becomes; and this we find to be the case. Whoever has ascended a high mountain has had no difficulty in determining two things. One is that the air is very much colder than at sea-level, and the other that it is very much lighter in weight. We find it difficult, when we first reach the summit, to take enough of oxygen into our lungs to carry on the natural operations of the bodily functions. To overcome this difficulty, if we remain at this altitude for a considerable time, we shall find that our lungs have expanded, so as to make up in quantity what is lacking in quality. If a man lives for a long time at an altitude of 10,000 feet he will find that his lungs are so expanded that he experiences some difficulty when he comes down to sea-level. And the reverse is true with one whose lungs are adapted to the conditions we find at sea-level, when he ascends to a higher altitude. There is a constant endeavor on the part of nature to adapt both animal and vegetable life to the surroundings. While no exact formula has been established as to the rate of decrement of temperature as we ascend, we may say that it decreases about one degree in every 300 or 400 feet of ascent. There is no exact way of arriving at this, as in ascending a mountain the temperature will be more or less affected by local conditions. If we go up in a balloon we have to depend upon the barometer as a means of measuring altitude, which, owing to the varying atmospheric conditions, is not a reliable mode of measurement. It is easily understood that a cubic foot of air at sea-level will contain a great many more atoms than a cubic foot of air will at the top of a high mountain; or, to state it in another way, a cubic foot of air at sea-level will occupy much more than a cubic foot of space 10,000 feet higher up. Suppose, then, that the amount of heat held in a cubic foot of air at sea-level remained the same, as related to the number of atoms. In its ascent we shall find that at a high altitude the same number of atoms that were held at sea-level in a cubic foot have been distributed over a so much larger space that the sensible heat is greatly diminished or diluted, so to speak. It was an old notion that heat would hide itself away in fluids under a name called by scientists latent heat. This theory has been exploded, however, by modern investigation. If we place some substance that will inflame at a low temperature in the bottom of what is called a fire syringe (which is nothing but a cylinder bored out smoothly, with a piston head nicely fitted to it, so that it will be air-tight) and then suddenly condense the air in the syringe by shoving the plunger to the bottom, we can inflame the substance which has been placed in the bottom of the cylinder. In this operation the heat that was distributed through the whole body of air, that was contained in the cylinder before it was compressed, is now condensed into a small space. If we withdraw the plunger immediately, before the heat has been taken up by the walls of the syringe, we shall find the air of the same temperature as before the plunger was thrust down. This, however, does not take into account any heat that was generated by friction. Let us further illustrate the phenomenon by another experiment. If we suddenly compress a cubic foot of air at ordinary pressure into a cubic inch of space, that cubic inch will be very hot because it contains all the heat that was distributed through the entire cubic foot before the compression took place. Now let it remain compressed until the heat has radiated from it, as it soon will, and the air becomes of the same temperature as the surrounding air. What ought to happen if then we should suddenly allow this cubic inch of air to expand to its normal pressure, when it will occupy a cubic foot of space? Inasmuch as we allowed the heat to escape from it when in the condensed form, when it expands it will be very cold, because the heat of the cubic inch, now reduced to the normal temperature of the surrounding air, is distributed over a cubic foot of space. This is precisely what takes place when heated air at the surface of the earth (which is condensed to a certain extent) rises to the higher regions of the atmosphere. There is a gradual expansion as it ascends, and consequently a gradual cooling, because a given amount of heat is being constantly distributed over a greater amount of space. At an altitude of forty-five miles it will have expanded about 25,000 times, which will bring the temperature down to between 200 and 300 degrees below zero. When we get beyond the limits of the atmosphere we get into the region of absolute cold, because heat is atomic motion, and there can be no atomic motion where there are no atoms. We have now traced the atmosphere up to the point where it shades off into the ether that is supposed to fill all interplanetary space. As Dryden says: <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> There fields of light and liquid ether flow, Purg'd from the pond'rous dregs of earth below. </div> </div> By interplanetary space we mean all space between the planets not occupied by sensible material. It is the same as interatomic space, or the space between atoms, except in degree, as the same substance that fills interplanetary space also fills interatomic space, so that all the atoms of matter float in it and are held together from flying off into space by the attraction of cohesion. What this ether is, has been the subject of much speculation among philosophers, without, however, arriving at any definite conclusion, further than that it is a substance possessing almost infinite elasticity, and whose ultimate particles, if particles there be, are so small that no sensible substance can be made sufficiently dense to resist it or confine it. It is easy to see that a substance possessing such qualities cannot be weighed or in any way made appreciable to our senses. But from the fact that radiant energy can be transmitted through it, with vibrations amounting to billions per second, we know that it must be a substance with elastic qualities that approach the infinite. Assuming that the ether is a substance, the question arises how is it related to other forms of substance? This is a question more easily asked than answered. The longer one dwells upon the subject, however, the more one is impressed with the thought that after all the ether may be the one element out of which all other elements come. Chemistry tells us that there are between sixty and seventy ultimate elements. This is true at least as a basis for chemical science. Chemical analysis has never been able to make gold anything but gold, or oxygen anything but oxygen, and so on through the whole catalogue of elements. It may be, however, that the play of forces under and beyond those that seem to be active in all chemical processes and relations, are able to produce certain affections of the ether, the result of which in the one case is an atom of gold and in the other an atom of oxygen, etc., to the end of the list. In this case all of the so-called elements may have their origin in one fundamental element that we call the ether. I am aware that we are wading in deep water here, but sometimes we love to get into deep water just to try our swimming powers. The above is a suggestion of a theory called "the vortex theory," that is taking root in the minds of many philosophers to-day, and yet there is almost nothing of known facts to base such a theory upon, and nearly all we can say about it is that it seems plausible, when viewed through the eye of imagination. We do know that substances, such as fluids or gases, assume very different qualities when put into different rates of motion. A straw has been known to penetrate the body of a tree endwise by the extreme velocity imparted to it when carried in the vortex of a tornado. Instances of the terrific solid power of substances that are mobile when at rest are often exhibited during the progress of a tornado, especially when confined in very narrow limits. Sometimes a tornado cloud will form a hanging cone, running down to a sharp point at the lower end, which lower end may drag on the ground, or it may float a little distance above the ground, but more frequently it moves forward with a bounding motion, now touching the earth and now rising in the air. This cone is revolving at a terrific speed. The substance revolving is chiefly air, carrying other light substances that it has gathered up from the ground. If it comes in contact with a tree or building it cuts its way through as though it were a buzzsaw revolving at a high rate of speed. This is not simply the force of wind, but a kind of solidity given to the fluent air by its whirling motion. I remember a case in Iowa, where one of these revolving cones passed through a barnyard, striking the corner of the barn, cutting it off as smoothly as though done with some sharp-edged tool, but it in no other way affected the rest of the building. One would suppose that the centrifugal force developed in this whirling motion would cause the cone to fly apart, and why it does not no one certainly knows. But we are obliged to accept the fact. These cases are cited to show that motion gives rigidity to substances that in the quiescent state are mobile or easily moved, like the straw or the air. If we should assume that there are infinitesimal vortices or whirling rings in the ether, of such rapidity as to give it different degrees of rigidity, we can get a glimmering idea of how an atom of matter may be formed from ether. Referring to the rigidity which motion gives to ordinary matter, it is well known that when two vessels at sea collide the one having the higher speed is not so liable to injury as the one with the lower. The reader will perhaps remember a circumstance said to have occurred a few years ago on the Lake Shore Railroad, between Buffalo and Cleveland. The limited express was going west, and while rounding a curve the engineer suddenly came in sight of a wrecked freight train, a part of which was lying on the track where the express train had to pass. The engineer saw that he was too near the wreck to stop his train and that the only way to save his own train and the lives of his passengers would be to cut through the wreck. He pulled out the throttle and put on a full head of steam, and when the train struck the wreck it was going at such a high rate of speed that it cut through without seriously damaging the train and without harm to the passengers. There are other heroes beside those who lead armies in battle. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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