The oxy-muriatic acid has been used to purify the air in fever hospitals and prisons, as it burns and destroys putrid effluvia of every kind. The infection of the small-pox is likewise destroyed by this gas, and matter that has been submitted to its influence will no longer generate that disorder.

CAROLINE.

Indeed, I think the remedy must be nearly as bad as the disease; the oxy-muriatic acid has such a dreadfully suffocating smell.

MRS. B.

It is certainly extremely offensive; but by keeping the mouth shut, and wetting the nostrils with liquid ammonia, in order to neutralize the vapour as it reaches the nose, its prejudicial effects may be in some degree prevented. At any rate, however, this mode of disinfection can hardly be used in places that are inhabited. And as the vapour of nitric acid, which is scarcely less efficacious for this purpose, is not at all prejudicial, it is usually preferred on such occasions.

CAROLINE.

You have not told us yet what is Sir H. Davy’s new opinion respecting the nature of muriatic acid, to which you alluded a few minutes ago?

MRS. B.

True; I avoided noticing it then, because you could not have understood it without some previous knowledge of the oxy-muriatic acid, which I have but just introduced to your acquaintance.

Sir H. Davy’s idea is that muriatic acid, instead of being a compound, consisting of an unknown basis and oxygen, is formed by the union of oxy-muriatic gas with hydrogen.

EMILY.

Have you not told us just now that oxy-muriatic gas was itself a compound of muriatic acid and oxygen?

MRS. B.

Yes; but according to Sir H. Davy’s hypothesis, oxy-muriatic gas is considered as a simple body, which contains no oxygen—as a substance of its own kind, which has a great analogy to oxygen in most of its properties, though in others it differs entirely from it.—According to this view of the subject, the name of oxy-muriatic acid can no longer be proper, and therefore Sir H. Davy has adopted that of chlorine, or chlorine gas, a name which is simply expressive of its greenish colour; and in compliance with that philosopher’s theory, we have placed chlorine in our table among the simple bodies.

CAROLINE.

But what was Sir H. Davy’s reason for adopting an opinion so contrary to that which had hitherto prevailed?

MRS. B.

There are many circumstances which are favourable to the new doctrine; but the clearest and simplest fact in its support is, that if hydrogen gas and oxy-muriatic gas be mixed together, both these gases disappear, and muriatic acid gas is formed.

EMILY.

That seems to be a complete proof; is it not considered as perfectly conclusive?

MRS. B.

Not so decisive as it appears at first sight; because it is argued by those who still incline to the old doctrine, that muriatic acid gas, however dry it may be, always contains a certain quantity of water, which is supposed essential to its formation. So that, in the experiment just mentioned, this water is supplied by the union of the hydrogen gas with the oxygen of the oxy-muriatic acid; and therefore the mixture resolves itself into the base of muriatic acid and water, that is, muriatic acid gas.

CAROLINE.

I think the old theory must be the true one; for otherwise how could you explain the formation of oxy-muriatic gas, from a mixture of muriatic acid and oxyd of manganese?

MRS. B.

Very easily; you need only suppose that in this process the muriatic acid is decomposed; its hydrogen unites with the oxygen of the manganese to form water, and the chlorine appears in its separate state.

EMILY.

But how can you explain the various combustions which take place in oxy-muriatic gas, if you consider it as containing no oxygen?

MRS. B.

We need only suppose that combustion is the result of intense chemical action; so that chlorine, like oxygen, in combining with bodies, forms compounds which have less capacity for caloric than their constituent principles, and, therefore, caloric is evolved at the moment of their combination.

EMILY.

If, then, we may explain every thing by either theory, to which of the two shall we give the preference?

MRS. B.

It will, perhaps, be better to wait for more positive proofs, if such can be obtained, before we decide positively upon the subject. The new doctrine has certainly gained ground very rapidly, and may be considered as nearly established; but several competent judges still refuse their assent to it, and until that theory is very generally adopted, it may be as well for us still occasionally to use the language to which chemists have long been accustomed.—But let us proceed to the examination of salts formed by muriatic acid.

Among the compound salts formed by muriatic acid, the muriat of soda, or common salt, is the most interesting.* The uses and properties of this salt are too well known to require much comment. Besides the pleasant flavour it imparts to the food, it is very wholesome, when not used to excess, as it assists the process of digestion.

Sea-water is the great source from which muriat of soda is extracted by evaporation. But it is also found in large solid masses in the bowels of the earth, in England, and in many other parts of the world.

EMILY.

I thought that salts, when solid, were always in the state of crystals; but the common table-salt is in the form of a coarse white powder.

MRS. B.

Crystallisation depends, as you may recollect, on the slow and regular reunion of particles dissolved in a fluid; common sea-salt is only in a state of imperfect crystallisation, because the process by which it is prepared is not favourable to the formation of regular crystals. But if you dissolve it, and afterwards evaporate the water slowly, you will obtain a regular crystallisation.

Muriat of ammonia is another combination of this acid, which we have already mentioned as the principal source from which ammonia is derived.

I can at once show you the formation of this salt by the immediate combination of muriatic acid with ammonia.—These two glass jars contain, the one muriatic acid gas, the other ammoniacal gas, both of which are perfectly invisible—now, if I mix them together, you see they immediately form an opake white cloud, like smoke.—If a thermometer was placed in the jar in which these gases are mixed, you would perceive that some heat is at the same time produced.

EMILY.

The effects of chemical combinations are, indeed, wonderful!—How extraordinary it is that two invisible bodies should become visible by their union!

MRS. B.

This strikes you with astonishment, because it is a phenomenon which nature seldom exhibits to our view; but the most common of her operations are as wonderful, and it is their frequency only that prevents our regarding them with equal admiration. What would be more surprising, for instance, than combustion, were it not rendered so familiar by custom?

EMILY.

That is true.—But pray, Mrs. B., is this white cloud the salt that produces ammonia? How different it is from the solid muriat of ammonia which you once showed us!

MRS. B.

It is the same substance which first appears in the state of vapour, but will soon be condensed by cooling against the sides of the jar, in the form of very minute crystals.

We may now proceed to the oxy-muriats. In this class of salts the oxy-muriat of potash is the most worthy of our attention, for its striking properties. The acid, in this state of combination, contains a still greater proportion of oxygen than when alone.

CAROLINE.

But how can the oxy-muriatic acid acquire an increase of oxygen by combining with potash?

MRS. B.

It does not really acquire an additional quantity of oxygen, but it loses some of the muriatic acid, which produces the same effect, as the acid which remains is proportionably super-oxygenated.*

If this salt be mixed, and merely rubbed together with sulphur, phosphorus, charcoal, or indeed any other combustible, it explodes strongly.

CAROLINE.

Like gun-powder, I suppose, it is suddenly converted into elastic fluids?

MRS. B.

Yes; but with this remarkable difference, that no increase of temperature, any further than is produced by gentle friction, is required in this instance. Can you tell me what gases are generated by the detonation of this salt with charcoal?

EMILY.

Let me consider . . . . . The oxy-muriatic acid parts with its excess of oxygen to the charcoal, by which means it is converted into muriatic acid gas; whilst the charcoal, being burnt by the oxygen, is changed to carbonic acid gas.—What becomes of the potash I cannot tell.

MRS. B.

That is a fixed product which remains in the vessel.

CAROLINE.

But since the potash does not enter into the new combinations, I do not understand of what use it is in this operation. Would not the oxy-muriatic acid and the charcoal produce the same effect without it?

MRS. B.

No; because there would not be that very great concentration of oxygen which the combination with the potash produces, as I have just explained.

I mean to show you this experiment, but I would advise you not to repeat it alone; for if care be not taken to mix only very small quantities at a time, the detonation will be extremely violent, and may be attended with dangerous effects. You see I mix an exceedingly small quantity of the salt with a little powdered charcoal, in this Wedgwood mortar, and rub them together with the pestle—

CAROLINE.

Heavens! How can such a loud explosion be produced by so small a quantity of matter?

MRS. B.

You must consider that an extremely small quantity of solid substance may produce a very great volume of gases; and it is the sudden evolution of these which occasions the sound.

EMILY.

Would not oxy-muriat of potash make stronger gunpowder than nitrat of potash?

MRS. B.

Yes; but the preparation, as well as the use of this salt, is attended with so much danger, that it is never employed for that purpose.

CAROLINE.

There is no cause to regret it, I think; for the common gunpowder is quite sufficiently destructive.

MRS. B.

I can show you a very curious experiment with this salt; but it must again be on condition that you will never attempt to repeat it by yourselves. I throw a small piece of phosphorus into this glass of water; then a little oxy-muriat of potash; and, lastly, I pour in (by means of this funnel, so as to bring it in contact with the two other ingredients at the bottom of the glass) a small quantity of sulphuric acid—

CAROLINE.

This is, indeed, a beautiful experiment! The phosphorus takes fire and burns from the bottom of the water.

EMILY.

How wonderful it is to see flame bursting out under water, and rising through it! Pray, how is this accounted for?

MRS. B.

Cannot you find it out, Caroline?

EMILY.

Stop—I think I can explain it. Is it not because the sulphuric acid decomposes the salt by combining with the potash, so as to liberate the oxy-muriatic acid gas by which the phosphoric is set on fire?

MRS. B.

Very well, Emily; and with a little more reflection you would have discovered another concurring circumstance, which is, that an increase of temperature is produced by the mixture of the sulphuric acid and water, which assists in promoting the combustion of the phosphorus.

I must, before we part, introduce to your acquaintance the newly-discovered substance IODINE, which you may recollect we placed next to oxygen and chlorine in our table of simple bodies.

CAROLINE.

Is this also a body capable of maintaining combustion like oxygen and chlorine?

MRS. B.

It is; and although it does not so generally disengage light and heat from inflammable bodies, as oxygen and chlorine do, yet it is capable of combining with most of them; and sometimes, as in the instance of potassium and phosphorus, the combination is attended with an actual appearance of light and heat.

CAROLINE.

But what sort of a substance is iodine: what is its form, and colour?

MRS. B.

It is a very singular body, in many respects. At the ordinary temperature of the atmosphere, it commonly appears in the form of blueish black crystalline scales, such as you see in this tube.

CAROLINE.

They shine like black lead, and some of the scales have the shape of lozenges.

MRS. B.

That is actually the form which the crystals of iodine often assume. But if we heat them gently, by holding the tube over the flame of a candle, see what a change takes place in them.

CAROLINE.

How curious! They seem to melt, and the tube immediately fills with a beautiful violet vapour. But look, Mrs. B., the same scales are now appearing at the other end of the tube.

MRS. B.

This is in fact a sublimation of iodine, from one part of the tube to another; but with this remarkable peculiarity, that, while in the gaseous state, iodine assumes that bright violet colour, which, as you may already perceive, it loses as the tube cools, and the substance resumes its usual solid form.—It is from the violet colour of the gas that iodine has obtained its name.

CAROLINE.

But how is this curious substance obtained?

MRS. B.

It is found in the ley of ashes of sea-weeds, after the soda has been separated by crystallisation; and it is disengaged by means of sulphuric acid, which expels it from the alkaline ley in the form of a violet gas, which may be collected and condensed in the way you have just seen.—This interesting discovery was made in the year 1812, by M. Courtois, a manufacturer of saltpetre at Paris.

CAROLINE.

And pray, Mrs. B., what is the proof of iodine being a simple body?

MRS. B.

It is considered as a simple body, both because it is not capable of being resolved into other ingredients; and because it is itself capable of combining with other bodies, in a manner analogous to oxygen and chlorine. The most curious of these combinations is that which it forms with hydrogen gas, the result of which is a peculiar gaseous acid.

CAROLINE.

Just as chlorine and hydrogen gas form muriatic acid? In this respect chlorine and iodine seem to bear a strong analogy to each other.

MRS. B.

That is indeed the case; so that if the theory of the constitution of either of these two bodies be true, it must be true also in regard to the other; if erroneous in the one, the theory must fall in both.

But it is now time to conclude; we have examined such of the acids and salts as I conceived would appear to you most interesting.—I shall not enter into any particulars respecting the metallic acids, as they offer nothing sufficiently striking for our present purpose.

CONVERSATION XX.
ON THE NATURE AND COMPOSITION OF VEGETABLES.

----

MRS. B.

We have hitherto treated only of the simplest combinations of elements, such as alkalies, earths, acids, compound salts, stones, &c.; all of which belong to the mineral kingdom. It is time now to turn our attention to a more complicated class of compounds, that of ORGANISED BODIES, which will furnish us with a new source of instruction and amusement.

EMILY.

By organised bodies, I suppose, you mean the vegetable and animal creation? I have, however, but a very vague idea of the word organisation, and I have often wished to know more precisely what it means.

MRS. B.

Organised bodies are such as are endowed by nature with various parts, peculiarly constructed and adapted to perform certain functions connected with life. Thus you may observe, that mineral compounds are formed by the simple effect of mechanical or chemical attraction, and may appear to some to be in a great measure the productions of chance; whilst organised bodies bear the most striking and impressive marks of design, and are eminently distinguished by that unknown principle, called life, from which the various organs derive the power of exercising their respective functions.

CAROLINE.

But in what manner does life enable these organs to perform their several functions?

MRS. B.

That is a mystery which, I fear, is enveloped in such profound darkness that there is very little hope of our ever being able to unfold it. We must content ourselves with examining the effects of this principle; as for the cause, we have been able only to give it a name, without attaching any other meaning to it than the vague and unsatisfactory idea of au unknown agent.

CAROLINE.

And yet I think I can form a very clear idea of life.

MRS. B.

Pray let me hear how you would define it?

CAROLINE.

It is perhaps more easy to conceive than to express—let me consider—Is not life the power which enables both the animal and the vegetable creation to perform the various functions which nature has assigned to them?

MRS. B.

I have nothing to object to your definition; but you will allow me to observe, that you have only mentioned the effects which the unknown cause produces, without giving us any notion of the cause itself.

EMILY.

Yes, Caroline, you have told us what life does, but you have not told us what it is.

MRS. B.

We may study its operations, but we should puzzle ourselves to no purpose by attempting to form an idea of its real nature.

We shall begin with examining its effects in the vegetable world, which constitutes the simplest class of organised bodies; these we shall find distinguished from the mineral creation, not only by their more complicated nature, but by the power which they possess within themselves, of forming new chemical arrangements of their constituent parts, by means of appropriate organs. Thus, though all vegetables are ultimately composed of hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen, (with a few other occasional ingredients,) they separate and combine these principles by their various organs, in a thousand ways, and form, with them, different kinds of juices and solid parts, which exist ready made in vegetables, and may, therefore, be considered as their immediate materials.

These are:

CAROLINE.

What a long list of names! I did not suppose that a vegetable was composed of half so many ingredients.

MRS. B.

You must not imagine that every one of these materials is formed in each individual plant. I only mean to say, that they are all derived exclusively from the vegetable kingdom.

EMILY.

But does each particular part of the plant, such as the root, the bark, the stem, the seeds, the leaves, consist of one of these ingredients only, or of several of them combined together?

MRS. B.

I believe there is no part of a plant which can be said to consist solely of any one particular ingredient; a certain number of vegetable materials must always be combined for the formation of any particular part, (of a seed for instance,) and these combinations are carried on by sets of vessels, or minute organs, which select from other parts, and bring together, the several principles required for the development and growth of those particular parts which they are intended to form and to maintain.

EMILY.

And are not these combinations always regulated by the laws of chemical attraction?

MRS. B.

No doubt; the organs of plants cannot force principles to combine that have no attraction for each other; nor can they compel superior attractions to yield to those of inferior power; they probably act rather mechanically, by bringing into contact such principles, and in such proportions, as will, by their chemical combination, form the various vegetable products.

CAROLINE.

We may then consider each of these organs as a curiously constructed apparatus, adapted for the performance of a variety of chemical processes.

MRS. B.

Exactly so. As long as the plant lives and thrives, the carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, (the chief constituents of its immediate materials,) are so balanced and connected together, that they are not susceptible of entering into other combinations; but no sooner does death take place, than this state of equilibrium is destroyed, and new combinations produced.

EMILY.

But why should death destroy it; for these principles must remain in the same proportions, and consequently, I should suppose, in the same order of attractions?

MRS. B.

You must remember, that in the vegetable, as well as in the animal kingdom, it is by the principle of life that the organs are enabled to act; when deprived of that agent or stimulus, their power ceases, and an order of attractions succeeds similar to that which would take place in mineral or unorganised matter.

EMILY.

It is this new order of attractions, I suppose, that destroys the organisation of the plant after death; for if the same combinations still continued to prevail, the plant would always remain in the state in which it died?

MRS. B.

And that, you know, is never the case; plants may be partially preserved for some time after death, by drying; but in the natural course of events they all return to the state of simple elements; a wise and admirable dispensation of Providence, by which dead plants are rendered fit to enrich the soil, and become subservient to the nourishment of living vegetables.

CAROLINE.

But we are talking of the dissolution of plants, before we have examined them in their living state.

MRS. B.

That is true, my dear. But I wished to give you a general idea of the nature of vegetation, before we entered into particulars. Besides, it is not so irrelevant as you suppose to talk of vegetables in their dead state, since we cannot analyse them without destroying life; and it is only by hastening to submit them to examination, immediately after they have ceased to live, that we can anticipate their natural decomposition. There are two kinds of analysis of which vegetables are susceptible; first, that which separates them into their immediate materials, such as sap, resin, mucilage, &c.; secondly, that which decomposes them into their primitive elements, as carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen.

EMILY.

Is there not a third kind of analysis of plants, which consists in separating their various parts, as the stem, the leaves, and the several organs of the flower?

MRS. B.

That, my dear, is rather the department of the botanist; we shall consider these different parts of plants only, as the organs by which the various secretions or separations are performed; but we must first examine the nature of these secretions.

The sap is the principal material of vegetables, since it contains the ingredients that nourish every part of the plant. The basis of this juice, which the roots suck up from the soil, is water; this holds in solution the various other ingredients required by the several parts of the plant, which are gradually secreted from the sap by the different organs appropriated to that purpose, as it passes them in circulating through the plant.

Mucus, or mucilage, is a vegetable substance, which, like all the others, is secreted from the sap; when in excess, it exudes from trees in the form of gum.

CAROLINE.

Is that the gum so frequently used instead of paste or glue?

MRS. B.

It is; almost all fruit-trees yield some sort of gum, but that most commonly used in the arts is obtained from a species of acacia-tree in Arabia, and is called gum arabic; it forms the chief nourishment of the natives of those parts, who obtain it in great quantities from incisions which they make in the trees.

CAROLINE.

I did not know that gum was eatable.

MRS. B.

There is an account of a whole ship’s company being saved from starving by feeding on the cargo, which was gum senegal. I should not, however, imagine, that it would be either a pleasant or a particularly eligible diet to those who have not, from their birth, been accustomed to it. It is, however, frequently taken medicinally, and considered as very nourishing. Several kinds of vegetable acids may be obtained, by particular processes, from gum or mucilage, the principal of which is called the mucous acid.

Sugar is not found in its simple state in plants, but is always mixed with gum, sap, or other ingredients; this saccharine matter is to be met with in every vegetable, but abounds most in roots, fruits, and particularly in the sugar-cane.

EMILY.

If all vegetables contain sugar, why is it extracted exclusively from the sugar-cane?

MRS. B.

Because it is both most abundant in that plant, and most easily obtained from it. Besides, the sugars produced by other vegetables differ a little in their nature.

During the late troubles in the West-Indies, when Europe was but imperfectly supplied with sugar, several attempts were made to extract it from other vegetables, and very good sugar was obtained from parsnips and from carrots; but the process was too expensive to carry this enterprize to any extent.

CAROLINE.

I should think that sugar might be more easily obtained from sweet fruits, such as figs, dates, &c.

MRS. B.

Probably; but it would be still more expensive, from the high price of those fruits.

EMILY.

Pray, in what manner is sugar obtained from the sugar-cane?

MRS. B.

The juice of this plant is first expressed by passing it between two cylinders of iron. It is then boiled with lime-water, which makes a thick scum rise to the surface. The clarified liquor is let off below and evaporated to a very small quantity, after which it is suffered to crystallise by standing in a vessel, the bottom of which is perforated with holes, that are imperfectly stopped, in order that the syrup may drain off. The sugar obtained by this process is a coarse brown powder, commonly called raw or moist sugar; it undergoes another operation to be refined and converted into loaf sugar. For this purpose it is dissolved in water, and afterwards purified by an animal fluid called albumen. White of eggs chiefly consist of this fluid, which is also one of the constituent parts of blood; and consequently eggs, or bullocks’ blood, are commonly used for this purpose.

The albuminous fluid being diffused through the syrup, combines with all the solid impurities contained in it, and rises with them to the surface, where it forms a thick scum; the clear liquor is then again evaporated to a proper consistence, and poured into moulds, in which, by a confused crystallisation, it forms loaf-sugar. But an additional process is required to whiten it; to this effect the mould is inverted, and its open base is covered with clay, through which water is made to pass; the water slowly trickling through the sugar, combines with and carries off the colouring matter.

CAROLINE.

I am very glad to hear that the blood that is used to purify sugar does not remain in it; it would be a disgusting idea. I have heard of some improvements by the late Mr. Howard, in the process of refining sugar. Pray what are they?

MRS. B.

It would be much too long to give you an account of the process in detail. But the principal improvement relates to the mode of evaporating the syrup, in order to bring it to the consistency of sugar. Instead of boiling the syrup in a large copper, over a strong fire, Mr. Howard carries off the water by means of a large air-pump, in a way similar to that used in Mr. Leslie’s experiment for freezing water by evaporation; that is, the syrup being exposed to a vacuum, the water evaporates quickly, with no greater heat than that of a little steam, which is introduced round the boiler. The air-pump is of course of large dimensions, and is worked by a steam engine. A great saving is thus obtained, and a striking instance afforded of the power of science in suggesting useful economical improvements.

EMILY.

And pray how is sugar-candy and barley-sugar prepared?

MRS. B.

Candied sugar is nothing more than the regular crystals, obtained by slow evaporation from a solution of sugar. Barley-sugar is sugar melted by heat, and afterwards cooled in moulds of a spiral form.

Sugar may be decomposed by a red heat, and, like all other vegetable substances, resolved into carbonic acid and hydrogen. The formation and the decomposition of sugar afford many very interesting particulars, which we shall fully examine, after having gone through the other materials of vegetables. We shall find that there is reason to suppose that sugar is not, like the other materials, secreted from the sap by appropriate organs; but that it is formed by a peculiar process with which you are not yet acquainted.

CAROLINE.

Pray, is not honey of the same nature as sugar?

MRS. B.

Honey is a mixture of saccharine matter and gum.

EMILY.

I thought that honey was in some measure an animal substance, as it is prepared by the bees.

MRS. B.

It is rather collected by them from flowers, and conveyed to their store-houses, the hives. It is the wax only that undergoes a real alteration in the body of the bee, and is thence converted into an animal substance.

Manna is another kind of sugar, which is united with a nauseous extractive matter, to which it owes its peculiar taste and colour. It exudes like gum from various trees in hot climates, some of which have their leaves glazed by it.

The next of the vegetable materials is fecula; this is the general name given to the farinaceous substance contained in all seeds, and in some roots, as the potatoe, parsnip, &c. It is intended by nature for the first aliment of the young vegetable; but that of one particular grain is become a favourite and most common food of a large part of mankind.

EMILY.

You allude, I suppose, to bread, which is made of wheat-flower?

MRS. B.

Yes. The fecula of wheat contains also another vegetable substance which seems peculiar to that seed, or at least has not as yet been obtained from any other. This is gluten, which is of a sticky, ropy, elastic nature; and it is supposed to be owing to the viscous qualities of this substance, that wheat-flour forms a much better paste than any other.

EMILY.

Gluten, by your description, must be very like gum?

MRS. B.

In their sticky nature they certainly have some resemblance; but gluten is essentially different from gum in other points, and especially in its being insoluble in water, whilst gum, you know, is extremely soluble.

The oils contained in vegetables all consist of hydrogen and carbon in various proportions. They are of two kinds, fixed and volatile, both of which we formerly mentioned. Do you remember in what the difference between fixed and volatile oil consists?

EMILY.

If I recollect rightly, the former are decomposed by heat, whilst the latter are merely volatilised by it.

MRS. B.

Very well. Fixed oil is contained only in the seeds of plants, excepting in the olive, in which it is produced in, and expressed from, the fruit. We have already observed that seeds contain also fecula; these two substances, united with a little mucilage, form the white substance contained in the seeds or kernels of plants, and is destined for the nourishment of the young plant, to which the seed gives birth. The milk of almonds, which is expressed from the seed of that name, is composed of these three substances.

EMILY.

Pray, of what nature is the linseed oil which is used in painting?

MRS. B.

It is a fixed oil, obtained from the seed of flax. Nut oil, which is frequently used for the same purpose, is expressed from walnuts.

Olive oil is that which is best adapted to culinary purposes.

CAROLINE.

And what are the oils used for burning?

MRS. B.

Animal oils most commonly; but the preference given to them is owing to their being less expensive; for vegetable oils burn equally well, and are more pleasant, as their smell is not offensive.

EMILY.

Since oil is so good a combustible, what is the reason that lamps so frequently require trimming?

MRS. B.

This sometimes proceeds from the construction of the lamp, which may not be sufficiently favourable to a perfect combustion; but there is certainly a defect in the nature of oil itself, which renders it necessary for the best-constructed lamps to be occasionally trimmed. This defect arises from a portion of mucilage which it is extremely difficult to separate from the oil, and which being a bad combustible, gathers round the wick, and thus impedes its combustion, and consequently dims the light.

CAROLINE.

But will not oils burn without a wick?

MRS. B.

Not unless their temperature be elevated to five or six hundred degrees; the wick answers this purpose, as I think I once before explained to you. The oil rises between the fibres of the cotton by capillary attraction, and the heat of the burning wick volatilises it, and brings it successively to the temperature at which it is combustible.

EMILY.

I suppose the explanation which you have given with regard to the necessity of trimming lamps, applies also to candles, which so often require snuffing?

MRS. B.

I believe it does; at least, in some degree. But besides the circumstance just explained, the common sorts of oils are not very highly combustible, so that the heat produced by a candle, which is a coarse kind of animal oil, being insufficient to volatilise them completely, a quantity of soot is gradually deposited on the wick, which dims the light, and retards the combustion.

CAROLINE.

Wax candles then contain no incombustible matter, since they do not require snuffing?

MRS. B.

Wax is a much better combustible than tallow, but still not perfectly so, since it likewise contains some particles that are unfit for burning; but when these gather round the wick, (which in a wax light is comparatively small,) they weigh it down on one side, and fall off together with the burnt part of the wick.

CAROLINE.

As oils are such good combustibles, I wonder that they should require so great an elevation of temperature before they begin to burn?

MRS. B.

Though fixed oils will not enter into actual combustion below the temperature of about four hundred degrees, yet they will slowly absorb oxygen at the common temperature of the atmosphere. Hence arises a variety of changes in oils which modify their properties and uses in the arts.

If oil simply absorbs, and combines with oxygen, it thickens and changes to a kind of wax. This change is observed to take place on the external parts of certain vegetables, even during their life. But it happens in many instances that the oil does not retain all the oxygen which it attracts, but that part of it combines with, or burns, the hydrogen of the oil, thus forming a quantity of water, which gradually goes off by evaporation. In this case the alteration of the oil consists not only in the addition of a certain quantity of oxygen, but in the diminution of the hydrogen. These oils are distinguished by the name of drying oils. Linseed, poppy, and nut-oils, are of this description.

EMILY.

I am well acquainted with drying oils, as I continually use them in painting. But I do not understand why the acquisition of oxygen on one hand, and a loss of hydrogen on the other, should render them drying?

MRS. B.

This, I conceive, may arise from two reasons; either from the oxygen which is added being less favourable to the state of fluidity than the hydrogen, which is subtracted; or from this additional quantity of oxygen giving rise to new combinations, in consequence of which the most fluid parts of the oil are liberated and volatilised.

For the purpose of painting, the drying quality of oil is further increased by adding a quantity of oxyd of lead to it, by which means it is more rapidly oxygenated.

The rancidity of oil is likewise owing to their oxygenation. In this case a new order of attraction takes place, from which a peculiar acid is formed, called the sebacic acid.

CAROLINE.

Since the nature and composition of oil is so well known, pray could not oil be actually made, by combining its principles?

MRS. B.

That is by no means a necessary consequence; for there are innumerable varieties of compound bodies which we can decompose, although we are unable to reunite their ingredients. This, however, is not the case with oil, as it has very lately been discovered, that it is possible to form oil, by a peculiar process, from the action of oxygenated muriatic acid gas on hydro-carbonate.

We now pass to the volatile or essential oils. These form the basis of all the vegetable perfumes, and are contained, more or less, in every part of the plant excepting the seed; they are, at least, never found in that part of the seed which contains the embrio plant.

EMILY.

The smell of flowers, then, proceeds from volatile oil?

MRS. B.

Certainly; but this oil is often most abundant in the rind of fruits, as in oranges, lemons, &c. from which it may be extracted by the slightest pressure; it is found also in the leaves of plants, and even in the wood.

CAROLINE.

Is it not very plentiful in the leaves of mint, and of thyme, and all the sweet-smelling herbs?

MRS. B.

Yes, remarkably so; and in geranium leaves also, which have a much more powerful odour than the flowers.

The perfume of sandal fans is an instance of its existence in wood. In short, all vegetable odours or perfumes are produced by the evaporation of particles of these volatile oils.

EMILY.

They are, I suppose, very light, and of very thin consistence, since they are so volatile?

MRS. B.

They vary very much in this respect, some of them being as thick as butter, whilst others are as fluid as water. In order to be prepared for perfumes, or essences, these oils are first properly purified, and then either distilled with spirit of wine, as in the case with lavender water, or simply mixed with a large proportion of water, as is often done with regard to peppermint. Frequently, also, these odoriferous waters are prepared merely by soaking the plants in water, and distilling. The water then comes over impregnated with the volatile oil.

CAROLINE.

Such waters are frequently used to take spots of grease out of cloth, or silk; how do they produce that effect?

MRS. B.

By combining with the substance that forms these stains; for volatile oils, and likewise the spirit in which they are distilled, will dissolve wax, tallow, spermaceti, and resins; if, therefore, the spot proceeds from any of these substances, it will remove it. Insects of every kind have a great aversion to perfumes, so that volatile oils are employed with success in museums for the preservation of stuffed birds and other species of animals.

CAROLINE.

Pray does not the powerful smell of camphor proceed from a volatile oil?

MRS. B.

Camphor seems to be a substance of its own kind, remarkable by many peculiarities. But if not exactly of the same nature as volatile oil, it is at least very analogous to it. It is obtained chiefly from the camphor-tree, a species of laurel which grows in China, and in the Indian isles, from the stem and roots of which it is extracted. Small quantities have also been distilled from thyme, sage, and other aromatic plants; and it is deposited in pretty large quantities by some volatile oils after long standing. It is extremely volatile and inflammable. It is insoluble in water, but is soluble in oils, in which state, as well as in its solid form, it is frequently applied to medicinal purposes. Amongst the particular properties of camphor, there is one too singular to be passed over in silence. If you take a small piece of camphor, and place it on the surface of a bason of pure water, it will immediately begin to move round and round with great rapidity; but if you pour into the bason a single drop of any odoriferous fluid, it will instantly put a stop to this motion. You can at any time try this very simple experiment; but you must not expect that I shall be able to account for this phenomenon, as nothing satisfactory has yet been advanced for its explanation.

CAROLINE.

It is very singular indeed; and I will certainly try the experiment. Pray what are resins, which you just now mentioned?

MRS. B.

They are volatile oils, that have been acted on, and peculiarly modified, by oxygen.

CAROLINE.

They are, therefore, oxygenated volatile oils?

MRS. B.

Not exactly; for the process does not appear to consist so much in the oxygenation of the oil, as in the combustion of a portion of its hydrogen, and a small portion of its carbon. For when resins are artificially made by the combination of volatile oils with oxygen, the vessel in which the process is performed is bedewed with water, and the air included within is loaded with carbonic acid.

EMILY.

This process must be, in some respects, similar to that for preparing drying oils?

MRS. B.

Yes; and it is by this operation that both of them acquire a greater degree of consistence. Pitch, tar, and turpentine, are the most common resins; they exude from the pine and fir trees. Copal, mastic, and frankincense, are also of this class of vegetable substances.

EMILY.

Is it of these resins that the mastic and copal varnishes, so much used in painting, are made?

MRS. B.

Yes. Dissolved either in oil, or in alcohol, resins form varnishes. From these solutions they may be precipitated by water, in which they are insoluble. This I can easily show you.—If you will pour some water into this glass of mastic varnish, it will combine with the alcohol in which the resin is dissolved, and the latter will be precipitated in the form of a white cloud—

EMILY.

It is so. And yet how is it that pictures or drawings, varnished with this solution, may safely be washed with water?

MRS. B.

As the varnish dries, the alcohol evaporates, and the dry varnish or resin which remains, not being soluble in water, will not be acted on by it.

There is a class of compound resins called gum-resins, which are precisely what their name denotes, that is to say, resins combined with mucilage. Myrrh and assafœtida are of this description.

CAROLINE.

Is it possible that a substance of so disagreeable a smell as assafœtida can be formed from a volatile oil?

MRS. B.

The odour of volatile oils is by no means always grateful. Onions and garlic derive their smell from volatile oils, as well as roses and lavender.

There is still another form under which volatile oils present themselves, which is that of balsams. These consist of resinous juices combined with a peculiar acid, called the benzoic acid. Balsams appear to have been originally volatile oils, the oxygenation of which has converted one part into a resin, and the other part into an acid, which, combined together, form a balsam; such are the balsams of Peru, Tolu, &c.

We shall now take leave of the oils and their various modifications, and proceed to the next vegetable substance, which is caoutchouc. This is a white milky glutinous fluid, which acquires consistence, and blackens in drying, in which state it forms the substance with which you are so well acquainted, under the name of gum-elastic.

CAROLINE.

I am surprised to hear that gum-elastic was ever white, or ever fluid! And from what vegetable is it procured?

MRS. B.

It is obtained from two or three different species of trees, in the East-Indies, and South-America, by making incisions in the stem. The juice is collected as it trickles from these incisions, and moulds of clay, in the form of little bottles of gum-elastic, are dipped into it. A layer of this juice adheres to the clay and dries on it; and several layers are successively added by repeating this till the bottle is of sufficient thickness. It is then beaten to break down the clay, which is easily shaken out. The natives of the countries where this substance is produced sometimes make shoes and boots of it by a similar process, and they are said to be extremely pleasant and serviceable, both from their elasticity, and their being water-proof.

The substance which comes next in our enumeration of the immediate ingredients of vegetables, is extractive matter. This is a term, which, in a general sense, may be applied to any substance extracted from vegetables; but it is more particularly understood to relate to the extractive colouring matter of plants. A great variety of colours are prepared from the vegetable kingdom, both for the purposes of painting and of dying; all the colours called lakes are of this description; but they are less durable than mineral colours, for, by long exposure to the atmosphere, they either darken or turn yellow.

EMILY.

I know that in painting, the lakes are reckoned far less durable colours than the ochres; but what is the reason of it?

MRS. B.

The change which takes place in vegetable colours is owing chiefly to the oxygen of the atmosphere slowly burning their hydrogen, and leaving, in some measure, the blackness of the carbon exposed. Such change cannot take place in ochre, which is altogether a mineral substance.

Vegetable colours have a stronger affinity for animal than for vegetable substances, and this is supposed to be owing to a small quantity of nitrogen which they contain. Thus, silk and worsted will take a much finer vegetable dye than linen and cotton.

CAROLINE.

Dying, then, is quite a chemical process?

MRS. B.

Undoubtedly. The condition required to form a good dye is, that the colouring matter should be precipitated, or fixed, on the substance to be dyed, and should form a compound not soluble in the liquids to which it will probably be exposed. Thus, for instance, printed or dyed linens or cottons must be able to resist the action of soap and water, to which they must necessarily be subject in washing; and woollens and silks should withstand the action of grease and acids, to which they may accidentally be exposed.

CAROLINE.

But if linen and cotton have not a sufficient affinity for colouring matter, how are they made to resist the action of washing, which they always do when they are well printed?

MRS. B.

When the substance to be dyed has either no affinity for the colouring matter, or not sufficient power to retain it, the combination is effected, or strengthened, by the intervention of a third substance, called a mordant, or basis. The mordant must have a strong affinity both for the colouring matter and the substance to be dyed, by which means it causes them to combine and adhere together.

CAROLINE.

And what are the substances that perform the office of thus reconciling the two adverse parties?

MRS. B.

The most common mordant is sulphat of alumine, or alum. Oxyds of tin and iron, in the state of compound salts, are likewise used for that purpose.

Tannin is another vegetable ingredient of great importance in the arts. It is obtained chiefly from the bark of trees; but it is found also in nut-galls, and in some other vegetables.

EMILY.

Is that the substance commonly called tan, which is used in hot-houses?

MRS. B.

Tan is the prepared bark in which the peculiar substance, tannin, is contained. But the use of tan in hot-houses is of much less importance than in the operation of tanning, by which skin is converted into leather.

EMILY.

Pray, how is this operation performed?

MRS. B.

Various methods are employed for this purpose, which all consist in exposing skin to the action of tannin, or of substances containing this principle, in sufficient quantities, and disposed to yield it to the skin. The most usual way is to infuse coarsely powdered oak bark in water, and to keep the skin immersed in this infusion for a certain length of time. During this process, which is slow and gradual, the skin is found to have increased in weight, and to have acquired a considerable tenacity and impermeability to water. This effect may be much accelerated by using strong saturations of the tanning principle (which can be extracted from bark), instead of employing the bark itself. But this quick mode of preparation does not appear to make equally good leather.

Tannin is contained in a great variety of astringent vegetable substances, as galls, the rose-tree, and wine; but it is nowhere so plentiful as in bark. All these substances yield it to water, from which it may be precipitated by a solution of isinglass, or glue, with which it strongly unites and forms an insoluble compound. Hence its valuable property of combining with skin (which consists chiefly of glue), and of enabling it to resist the action of water.

EMILY.

Might we not see that effect by pouring a little melted isinglass into a glass of wine, which you say contains tannin?

MRS. B.

Yes. I have prepared a solution of isinglass for that very purpose.—Do you observe the thick muddy precipitate?—That is the tannin combined with the isinglass.

CAROLINE.

This precipitate must then be of the same nature as leather?

MRS. B.

It is composed of the same ingredients; but the organisation and texture of the skin being wanting, it has neither the consistence nor the tenacity of leather.

CAROLINE.

One might suppose that men who drink large quantities of red wine stand a chance of having the coats of their stomachs converted into leather, since tannin has so strong an affinity for skin.

MRS. B.

It is not impossible but that the coats of their stomachs may be, in some measure, tanned, or hardened by the constant use of this liquor; but you must remember that where a number of other chemical agents are concerned, and, above all, where life exists, no certain chemical inference can be drawn.

I must not dismiss this subject, without mentioning a recent discovery of Mr. Hatchett, which relates to it. This gentleman found that a substance very similar to tannin, possessing all its leading properties, and actually capable of tanning leather, may be produced by exposing carbon, or any substance containing carbonaceous matter, whether vegetable, animal, or mineral, to the action of nitric acid.

CAROLINE.

And is not this discovery very likely to be of use to manufactures?

MRS. B.

That is very doubtful, because tannin, thus artificially prepared, must probably always be more expensive than that which is obtained from bark. But the fact is extremely curious, as it affords one of those very rare instances of chemistry being able to imitate the proximate principles of organised bodies.

The last of the vegetable materials is woody fibre; it is the hardest part of plants. The chief source from which this substance is derived is wood, but it is also contained, more or less, in every solid part of that plant. It forms a kind of skeleton of the part to which it belongs, and retains its shape after all the other materials have disappeared. It consists chiefly of carbon, united with a small proportion of salts, and the other constituents common to all vegetables.

EMILY.

It is of woody fibre, then, that the common charcoal is made?

MRS. B.

Yes. Charcoal, as you may recollect, is obtained from wood, by the separation of all its evaporable parts.

Before we take leave of the vegetable materials, it will be proper, at least, to enumerate the several vegetable acids which we either have had, or may have occasion to mention. I believe I formerly told you that their basis, or radical, was uniformly composed of hydrogen and carbon, and that their difference consisted only in the various proportions of oxygen which they contained.

The following are the names of the vegetable acids:

The	Mucous Acid,	obtained from gum or mucilage;
	Suberic	from cork;
	Camphoric	from camphor;
	Benzoic	from balsams;
	Gallic	from galls, bark, &c.
	Malic	from ripe fruits;
	Citric	from lemon juice;
	Oxalic	from sorrel;
	Succinic	from amber;
	Tartarous	from tartrit of potash:
	Acetic	from vinegar.

They are all decomposable by heat, soluble in water, and turn vegetable blue colours red. The succinic, the tartarous, and the acetous acids, are the products of the decomposition of vegetables; we shall, therefore, reserve their examination for a future period.

The oxalic acid, distilled from sorrel, is the highest term of vegetable acidification; for, if more oxygen be added to it, it loses its vegetable nature, and is resolved into carbonic acid and water; therefore, though all the other acids may be converted into the oxalic by an addition of oxygen, the oxalic itself is not susceptible of a further degree of oxygenation; nor can it be made, by any chemical processes, to return to a state of lower acidification.

To conclude this subject, I have only to add a few words on the gallic acid. . . . .

CAROLINE.

Is not this the same acid before mentioned, which forms ink, by precipitating sulphat of iron from its solution?