The Optical Magic Lantern Journal (January 1892)

Tho Optical Magio Lantern Journal and Photographic Enlarger. 3 After a few breaths of air, as fresh as I could obtain ina room full of tobacco-smoke, I went back and had another try, but it was of no use. When all the oxygen had escaped, I went into the dark room again, lit the gas, which had been extinguished by the explosion, and looked around. The gauge had snapped short off at the stem and was lying on the floor, the dial was missing, and the glass, of course, blown to atoms, the top of the regulator was embedded in the ceiling, and the cover of the regulator case was missing, On examining the connections it was found that the cone fitting the interior of the bull-nosed nozzle of the cylinder was partly melted, so was the neck of the cylinder itself; the end of the valve-pin was also melted away. The oxygen had evidently fired in the neck of the cylinder. The end of the Bourdon tube in the gauge, unable to sustain the immense pressure, had burst, bulging the side of the case, forcing out the dial, and as I said before, smashing the glass to atoms. The fire had travelled partly along the tube leading to the gauge, but had not entered the gauge itself. It had travelled mainly in an upward direction, forcing itsclf up one side of the regulator, it impinged upon the side of the case, burst the indiarubber bellows, blown away the top, partly melted the solder at the top of the cover and scorched the lacquer outside. We now come to ask the cause of this, and the answer undoubtedly is: Oil in the neck of the cylinder. In the early part of the present year : ‘an article appeared in Zhe Nineteenth Century, bearing upon this very subject in connection with gas bottles, and describing almost exactly what occurred in the present instance. How came the oil there? that is the question. We have been informed that at one time these kind of pressure gauges were tested with oil, and this may have been one from which it had only imperfectly been removed, but the gauge had been in use quite two years, and, as I said before, there was no trace of fire in the gauge itself. Oxygen compressors tell us they never use oil to lubricate the valves of cylinders, but the portion of the valve-pin when withdrawn from this cylinder was covered with black oil, and the same thing was foundin the aperture from which it had been taken. Curiously enough, too, I have taken the pins: out of two other cylinders and these are both greasy. The conclusion arrived at a week ago—when this matter was under consideration, was—Oil in the valve; but how it came there there is no evidence to show. Several men of great ability and experience have been consulted ou the subject, including Mr. Adolphe, Mr. Levy, Mr. Newton, Mr. Newton, jun., Mr. T. Ottway, Mr. T. S. Freshwater, Mr. | R. R. Beard, Mr. G. R. Baker, Mr. Murray (Brin’s Oxygen Co.), and Mr. T. North. As you know, I have had a good deal to do with oxygen in bags, gasholders, and bottles, and have been using the lime-light almost daily for many years. The concensus of opinion is, as I have said before, oil in the valve. In conclusion, I should like to give you a few words of caution. When turning on or off gas in cylinders always hold them at arm’s-length. I invariably take this precaution. The top of the regulator in this instance passed within two or three inches of my head and embedded itself in the ceiling. 203 To be [.e,itm] or not to be [cance] ? That is the Question. By Arcus. Tuis being the time of festivity, I will not write a technical article, but will tell a story, and a true story at that. I have often told it before, so if any of the readers have heard of it they will know who I am; but if they have not, they will remain in ignorance, as I have hidden under the nom de plume as stated above. Not many years ago, I, being a teacher and taking a great interest in Sunday-schools, decided to give the scholars and friends a treat about Christmas-time. The time of year when I made this resolution was June, and being one of the mighty army of users of hand-cameras, and a lanternist as well, I thought the best form for the entertainment to take would be a lantern exhibition, and lecture on ‘“ Our Village Life,” ‘our village ’’ meaning the village in which we all lived. During the summer I was a good customer to plate-makers. I was seldom outside without my hand-camera, and made exposures on all the items of interest that for months occurred in our midst. First, I made a series of negatives of the principal streets, then the surroundings. Snap-shots of two or three congregated together were made at frequent intervals, until I had photographs of all the leading lights in our place—from the newly-married couple leaving the church, to the loafers around the inn, including a fight between two men, the break-down of a furniture waggon, scenes at the fair, &c., in the latter were included two of our staid citizens, mounted upon the wooden horses of a roundabout. I complimented myself upon my success in obtaining all these negatives without being more than casually noticed. About the end of September I made lantern transparencies from the best of my negatives, and these having been satisfactorily finished, I had them coloured, and