‘Burst the vessel!’ cried Lucy—’ an iron vessel, father! — Is that possible? — I should like to see that experiment — But I believe it would be dangerous, because when the iron vessel bursts, the bits of it might be thrown against us, and hurt us — Father, I remember your giving mother an account of some vessel, that burst, from having too much hot water — too much steam, I mean, in it.’
‘Yes, because heat was added to the water,’ said Harry. ‘Water, in the tea-kettle, boils over, when it is made very hot; and I suppose, that, if the top of the tea-kettle was screwed down so tight, that no steam could get out, and if the spout was stopped in such a manner that the steam could not come out there, the tea-kettle would burst.’ ‘Yes,’ answered his father.
‘Then there is a way of swelling water by heat,’ said Lucy.
‘It is not the water that swells,’ said her father: ‘while it continues water, it does not swell; but, when heat mixes with it, or when it becomes what we call steam, or vapor, then it swells, and takes up a great deal more room than it did before.’
‘But there was something I was in a great hurry to say,’ cried. Lucy, ‘and now I have forgotten it — Talking of the boiling over of the tea-kettle put it out of my head.”
‘You mean the boiling over of the water in the tea-kettle,’ said her father.
‘Yes, father; but what was I thinking of,’ said Lucy.
‘Recollect,’ said her father, ‘what you were thinking of, just before we spoke of the teakettle; and then, perhaps, you may recollect what you want to remember.’
‘We were talking of the swelling, or not swelling of water, by heat — O, I recollect what it was!’ said Lucy—’ I know a way, father, of swelling, or expanding water without heat.’
‘What is that way,’ said Harry.
‘There is a way, I assure you, brother; and you know it, or, at least, you have seen it, as well as! Don’t you know, that, when water is frozen, it swells?’
‘How do you know that, sister?’
‘I know, that bottles, filled with water, often burst, when it freezes,’ said Lucy: ‘I assure you, I have seen the water bottle in my room broken by the frost.’
‘That bottle had a very narrow neck,’ said Harry; ‘bottles, or jugs, that are as wide at the mouth, or wider than elsewhere, do not burst, when the water withinside of them is frozen — the jug in my room never bursts, though the water is often frozen in it.’
‘What is the reason of that, do you think?’ said her father.
‘Because there is room for the ice to expand,’ said Lucy.
‘But does the ice expand, father?’ said Harry.
His father answered—’ At the moment of freezing, the parts of ice are found to be farther from one another, than the parts of the water were.’
‘Does cold get between the parts of the water,’ said Lucy.
‘No, no,’ said Harry—’cold is not a thing; father told us, that it is only a word, that expresses want of heat.’
‘Call it what you will,’ said Lucy, ‘but still I do not understand. — What is it, father, that gets between the parts of the ice, and makes it take up more room at the moment it freezes.’
‘I do not know, my dear,’ said her father.
‘You don’t know, father! — I thought you knew every thing.’
‘No, my dear,’ said her father—’ There are a great many things of which I know as little as you do — It is difficult to know any thing well. Upon this very subject, of which you were speaking, there are different opinions, and I do not like to tell you any thing, of which I am not sure.; ‘But, father,’ continued Lucy, ‘one thing you can tell me, or I can tell you, that ice is the same thing as water, and water is the same thing as ice, is not it so? except that one is fluid and the other solid.’
‘Not quite the same — water is ice, with heat added to it, and a little air.’
‘Then I should have thought,’ said Lucy, ‘that water ought to take up more room than ice.’
‘Why, my dear?’
‘Because water is ice and something more — something added to it. We saw, when we heated the bladder, that hot air took up more room than cold air, because it was air, and something added to it; for the same reason, I should have thought, that, if you add heat to ice, and so turn it into water again, that the water should take up more room than the ice; because, I say,’ cried Lucy, struggling to explain herself, ‘the water is ice, and something more — heat is added to it, you know.’
‘I understand you, my dear,’ said her father, ‘and what you say is very reasonable. I should have thought as you do, if I had not seen the experiment tried; but we find, from experience, that this is not the case. However, try the experiment for yourself.’
‘So I will, father,’ cried Lucy. So we will, and this very night too, if it freezes: and I hope it will freeze; for, though I don’t like the cold, I shall like very much to try this experiment; and I have a little bottle, and I will fill it with water, put it out of my window, and in the morning I dare say we shall find it burst.’
‘So it will,’ said Harry, ‘if the neck is narrow.’
‘But,’ said his father, ‘I can give you a bottle with a very wide neck: if you fill this with water, up to the neck, either the bottle will break, or the ice will not only fill the bottle, but will shoot up through the neck of the bottle, like a stopper.’
‘But what you wanted to try, I thought, was, whether water takes up less room than ice,’ said Harry; ‘so, to make the proof quite exact, you should take the very ice, that has been frozen in the bottle, and melt it, that is, put heat to it: and then, when it is water again, try whether it takes up more or less room, or the same, that it did before.’
‘Remember, you must melt it with a gentle heat, else the heat might evaporate some of the water,’ said their father.
‘We will take care, father,’ and we will try all this,’ said Lucy. ‘I love trying experiments, especially when we do it together, and when you, father, are interested about them, as we go on.’
‘Yes, and I love to have something to do and something to think of,’ said Harry.
‘And something to feel eager to go to again the next day,’ said Lucy. ‘I like to feel curious to know how the thing will turn out.’
‘Well, now turn out of my way, my dear,’ said her father, ‘for you are so close to my elbow, that I cannot whet my razor.’
It happened this day, that Lucy found, in one of her drawers, a number of horse-chestnuts, which she had collected in the autumn, and which she had intended to plant; but, having forgotten them, they had lain in this drawer for nearly six weeks, and they had become a little mouldy. Lucy, finding that they were spoilt, threw them into the fire. A few minutes after she had thrown them into the fire, she was startled by hearing a noise, as loud as the noise made by a pop-gun; and she saw bits of coal, and fire, and chestnut, thrown out on the carpet, to the distance of a yard from the hearth. While she was stooping to pick up these bits, another pop was heard, another chestnut burst, and more bits of coal, on fire, were thrown out, and one of them hit her arm and burnt her a little. Nobody was with her — She ran into the next room directly, knowing that her father was there, and she called him, and told him what had happened, and asked him what she should do. He went immediately, and took all the chestnuts out of the fire. Harry and his mother came while he was doing this; they were glad that Lucy was not much hurt, and that no mischief had been done. Her father then explained to her the cause of what had happened; he told her, that the heat of the fire, mixing with the water in the wet, or mouldy chestnuts, had turned the water into steam, which takes up more room than water; and that the steam, being confined by the outside skin of the chestnuts, had, to make room for itself, burst through that skin, and had caused this sudden explosion.
After having explained this to Lucy, her father gave her an account of an accident, which had happened to him, when he was a child. He told her, that he had thought that he could make a
large lead pencil, such as he had seen used for ruling children’s copy books; accordingly, he put some lead into a fire-shovel, and bid his sister hold it over the fire to melt. In the mean time, he fixed upright a bit of elder tree, out of which part of the pith had been scooped. The wood was not quite dry. When the lead was melted, he took the shovel from his sister, and poured it into the hole, in the piece of elder, from which the pith had been scooped: but, to his great surprise and terror, the melted lead was driven out of the wood with such force, as actually to strike against the ceiling. None of the lead struck his face; but, had he been looking over it, probably his eyes would have been burnt out.
‘So you see, my dear Lucy,’ concluded her father, ‘that it is particularly necessary, that children should be careful in trying experiments, as they are not acquainted with the nature or properties of the things, with which they meddle. When I filled the bit of wet elder wood with hot lead, I did not know, or recollect, that the heat of the lead would turn the water into steam, and the expanding suddenly of this steam would cause an explosion.’
This story brought to Harry’s recollection an account, which his mother had read to him, of another accident. Lucy had not been present when this was read, and her brother now ran for the book, and showed her the passage. She began to read — and it was as follows: —
‘At the cannon foundery in Moorfields—’
Lucy stopped at the first line, and said, that she did not know what was meant by a cannon foundery, and she did not know where Moorfields is. Her father told her, that Moorfields is the name of a part of London; and that a cannon foundery is a place, where cannon are made; a foundery is a place where metals are melted, and cast into different shapes. The word is taken from the French word fondre, to melt. — Lucy had seen a cannon; therefore now she quite understood this first line of what she was going to read: Harry was rather impatient, at her requiring so long an explanation; but her father said she was right, not to go on, without understanding completely what she heard. Lucy then read —
‘At the cannon foundery, in Moorfields, hot metal was poured into a mould, that accidentally contained a small quantity of water, which was instantly converted into steam, and caused an explosion, that blew the foundery to pieces. A similar accident happened at a foundery in Newcastle, which occurred from a little water having insinuated itself into a hollow brass ball, that was thrown into the melting pot.’
Lucy was astonished to hear, that water, when turned into steam, could have such force; — from the facts, which she had just heard and read, she perceived, that it is necessary to be careful, in trying experiments, and that it is useful to know the properties of bodies, that we may avoid hurting either ourselves or other people.
This evening it was a frost. Harry and Lucy saw, that the quicksilver in the thermometer was at the freezing point. They determined now to try the experiments, which they wished to try, about ice and water. Their father gave them a wide-necked bottle, and Harry filled it up to the bottom of the neck, leaving the neck empty, but he did not cork it. At the same time, Lucy took a common lavender-water bottle; that had wide shoulders, and a very narrow neck; this she also filled up to the bottom of the neck, leaving the neck empty. Harry next filled a common phial bottle up to the mouth, stopped it closely with a cork, and tied the cork down strongly to the neck of the bottle. They hung all these bottles out of doors, on the same place, on the north side of the house.
Their father went this day to dine with a friend, at some distance from home; he was not to return till the next day, at dinner time; so that, the next morning, before breakfast, they missed their accustomed lesson from their father, for which they were sorry. Lucy observed, that her father’s room looked dismal without him, and, as there was an unusual silence there, which the children did not like, they went off to the gallery, and comforted themselves, by making as much noise as possible, galloping up and down the gallery, and playing at hare and hound. It was snowing, so that they could not go out to look at their bottles, and it continued to snow for some hours, till long after the time, when they had finished the day’s lessons with their mother.
At last the snow ceased; and, as the sun began to shine, the children were now afraid, that the water in their bottles might, if it had been frozen, be soon thawed, therefore they put on their hats and great coats as fast as they could, and ran out to the wall, on the north side of the house, and to the place where they had hung up their three bottles the preceding day. They found, that the lavender-water bottle, and the bottle that was tightly corked, were broken; but the bottle with the wide mouth had not been broken. The ice had swelled out through the neck of the bottle, and some way above it, looking like a stopper. This bottle they brought into their mother’s dressing room, who put it upon a saucer, in a warm place, and they left it there, that the ice might melt. In the mean time, they went to help their mother to paste some prints into a large paper book. They were longe? at this work than they had expected to be; they had but just finished it, when the dressing-bell rang, they then recollected suddenly their experiment, and they said they must go and look whether the ice was melted; but their hands were now covered with paste, and their mother advised them first to wash their hands and dress themselves, that they might be sure to be ready, before their father should come home to dinner.
Harry and Lucy ran away, saying, ‘Which will be dressed first?’ — And in a few minutes they came hurrying from their different rooms, eager to get to their mother’s dressing-room.
‘I’m ready! I was here before you!’ cried Harry, bursting in.
‘Gently, gently, my dear Harry,’ said his mother, ‘and shut the door after you.’
‘Lucy’s coining in, ma’am — Ha! Lucy, I was here first.’
‘But I had a great deal more to do, brother,’ said Lucy.
Her mother turned and looked at her, as she came into the room, and observed, that Lucy’s hair was not combed smoothly, and that one of her shoes was untied —
‘And your hands, Lucy?’ said her mother, ‘they are not clean — What is all this upon your hands?’
‘Only the paste, ma’am, with which I was pasting those prints; but I did wash my hands, I assure you, mother.’
‘Yes; but you did not wash them well, I assure you, daughter — so go and wash them again, before you do any thing else; you must not neglect to keep yourself clean and neat. This pocket-hole of your frock is torn almost from the top to the bottom.’
‘Yes, mother; I tore it as I was coming down stairs; it caught upon a nail in the passage.’
‘Go and put on another frock, and mend this pocket-hole, before you do any thing else, Lucy,’ said her mother:—’It is more necessary, that a girl should be clean and neat, than that she should try experiments.’
Lucy blushed, and went away to do what her mother desired.
‘Mother, I am sure it was partly my fault,’ said Harry, ‘because I hurried her too much; but, to make amends, I know what I will do for her.’
Then he ran for a pair of pincers, which his father had given to him; with some little difficulty he took the nail out, on which Lucy’s gown had been caught; and, with some little difficulty, Lucy washed the paste off her hands, and mended her gown.
When they went to look at their experiment, they found that the ice, which they had left in the bottle, was quite melted, and that the water had sunk to the place, where it had been before it was frozen. The top of the water just came to the bottom of the neck of the bottle. So they were convinced that water takes up less room than ice; or, in other words, that water, when it is frozen, takes up more room, than it does when it is not frozen.
When their father came home this day to dinner, Harry and Lucy told him the result, or end, of their experiments; and they said, that the experiments had turned out, just as he had foretold that they would. Their father said, that he was glad that they had tried the experiments, and had satisfied themselves of the truth.
After dinner, the children ran eag
erly for the wide-necked bottle, that they might show their father, that the water was really exactly at the place, where it was before it had been frozen. They had left the bottle on the hearth, in their mother’s dressing-room; and, as they knew exactly the spot where they had left it, they thought they could find it without a candle, especially as they expected that there would be a little glimmering light from the fire in the dressing-room. However the fire, being almost out, they could scarcely see their way. They felt about, near the corner of the chimney, but no bottle was there; they felt water on the hearth.
‘O! our bottle is broken!’ exclaimed Lucy—’Who has done this?’
‘Are you sure it is broken? — May be it is not,’ said Harry; ‘I will open the shutters, and then we shall see by the moonlight.’
He drew up the curtain, unbarred and opened the shutters; then they saw, alas! that their bottle was broken. The dog was lying before the fire, and, in taking his customary place, had thrown down the bottle.
‘O, our dear, dear wide-necked bottle, with which I intended to do so many things!’ cried Lucy.
‘Fie! fie! naughty dog! — down! — down, sirrah!’ cried Harry, as the dog, now wakening, attempted to leap up and caress him — Down, sirrah!’
‘But don’t call him sirrah! Don’t be in passion with him,’ said Lucy:—’ He did not know — he did not mean to do us any harm; it was our fault, for leaving the bottle here, just in his way. Come here, poor fellow,’ added she, as the dog was slinking away ashamed. Harry, ashamed too of his anger, joined Lucy in patting him, and both he and his sister were now pleased with themselves, for bearing their disappointment with good humor. The moon shone full on the window, and Harry, as he went to close the shutters again, called Lucy to look at ‘the beautiful blue sky, and the glorious number of bright stars in the heavens.’
Lucy, as she looked and admired them, recollected something she had read, in Sandford and Merton, about the names and places of the stars; the pole star, and Charles’s wain, and the great bear, and the little bear. At the time when she had read it, she had not understood it, because she had never observed the places of the stars in the sky; but this night, she and Harry read over that part of Sandford and Merton again; and, when they looked at the stars, and compared them with the description, they understood it perfectly. They went on to read the account of the use, which little Sandford made of his knowledge of the stars, when he lost his way one night in crossing a great moor, between his father’s house and his uncle’s.
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 352
