Tag Archives: 1895

Author’s preface to My Soundspeed Discovery

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AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO THE (AFTER 13 DAYS) SECOND EDITION,
AND ALGEOMETRY APPENDIX [The Life-Romance, pp. 38, 9, 48, 9, 60, 70, 1, 112].

In Considering how the great yellow vulture of Northern Africa, for instance, sits two mile up, “le bec au vent” (L. P. Mouillard, Paris, 1881, “L’Empire de l’Air”), on an invisible column [of Condensation Under] spying the smaller appetites a half, that scan the ground (Matthew, xxiv, 28), AND HOW MANKIND WILL PRESENTLY FLY; how Sound flies under with speed predetermined; I soon found that the Authorities for the first proceeding were nowhere, so that I had no chance to understand them, and, being unable to understand the Authorities for the second, found at last that the Authorities were wrong!

Hearing no responses from I must substitute the better explanation called for, p. 18, myself! A unit at the bottom of a vertical tube is artificially doubled under an imaginary cap. The weight above is always the column. The double unit motor is I II , p. 9 [Hold the book upright]. The double unit moved is (virtually) II and (III, which must be, out of the way of the cap). The effect, Sound, goes up two steps to the new head of condensation ( III IV ) cap. The analysis, dropping two 2 factors, “2 (because this end is stationary) × 2 (the live pressure),” p. 10, halves the arrow-head v; and its V, therefore, on half that computed, pp. 11, 12 = ½ our “two steps” V which remains 1126.4 [clipped a little, “down to 1120 or under,” by my AIR SOUND FRICTION, p. 17] instead of 944 (which Newton proved (?), Laplace, approving, failed how conspicuously to correct! pp. 4, 15, 16, 18) feet a second.

If in d v, p. 10, the parenthesis changed also becomes (2), 1/V = 1/√gH, Newtonian Sound speed, interpretable? (!)

And have not been through these arithmetical and emotional experiences without having suffered almost want, going about with my feet bare in my shoes through great holes in my socks nineteen days without a cent in my pocket, July 12th to July 31st last; bitterly treated by my friends for whom in worse necessity I had denied my own; refused by my sisters whom I love, my sister (ill) Egality having sailed abroad without leaving me her direction or address, and my sister Charity in Egality’s house letting down pears from a high window by a string, which I didn’t want and only took out of politeness, in a brown paper bag which wouldn’t go through the opening of the (chained) door, Non quo more piris vesci Calaber jubet hospes!

My first eighteen pages cost three years labor, and were rewritten between twenty-five and fifty times; one word I waited twenty years for, donned, The Life Romance, 155; another, hunted through the Public Library encyclopædias to the Armenian corner shop above the Common, Hagop Bogigian’s where I found it, broidered, on a prayer rug, p. 36. My designs were instantaneous Suggestions, perfect; opposite my profile count — excuse me! I didn’t see when I had drawn, and put in the number — 64 little areas (!) why not from Heaven, my dear mother’s or little brother’s, too sweet to live, how proud and playful! loving! wise! a born geometer (?) which in Boston Cambridge “the name implies”. And the united charge of my two books wrapped separate, for the big mail box — I have just noticed —, 34 + 30, 64 ounces (!)

If there be ART in anything I have inked the ART will live; if there be Truth it will not perish; if there be Science some day soon it will be Ever Unforgotten; if there be Love, above all ART, and Truth, and Science, Love is the One Redemption of the earth!

The Fault with gold is, that We Haven’t; it has no rival for a party honestly to prefer, its drawback being, it is not invariable. The Perfect Standard must combine (respect) all valuations, of bread, beef, land, labor, literary effort, sun-gold, moon-silver, planet-beauty, as the centre of gravity of every particle (in the system)’s every (changed) position; be Corrected (monthly) by the Board of Statistical Average Computers, each coin with gold grains stamped how many, and all “dollars” redeemable, which would protect from presentation, in the Last Standard, uncoined without charge. Details, expenses, a supreme court, establishment (costless because beyond all computation valuable economically and morally and full of employment to the people), Independence (of political gyroscopy), a slow moving cycle keeping the balance through the centuries A Head, — of course! Given the quantities and sale prices of the commodities, and Reserve Statistics, I could write the complex fractional Corrective.

My best verses are — I know it, and went twice out, spring mornings, at four o’clock, to see (reality) what I had written — four, p. 49, beginning, “Sleep, love, the pride of day.” It is PRIMARY METAPHOR of all times and places, Shakespearian and classic, Dian A Huntress; My Romance is MARY MET AND WOULD HAVE DIED F OR, equally world-real, unlocal, human-true! If I throb in sympathy with every Living Sin I cannot help it; the trees have it, creaking above (your tent) in sleepy forest, the peaks which glitter, “Do not dare us!”, the avalanches sifting (I have listened, lost) through the night their opposite “beware, be ware, we are but helpless!” — feeling the heartbeats of somehow Delilah (22) without contrition, the care of Samson hinting Departure — Read it! — to the boy.

Unchosen by my University to teach her English and mathematics I yet can measure our pensive mother; pour melted iron into her mould; cajole your figures into either Lying, p. 16, or everyelsewhere (?), Telling Truth. And if, my dear two hundred friends every one who have just taken, from my own hands, three hundred (and — how many?) copies, I’ve said too much, you shouldn’t have so much encouraged! — my main object being still, believe me! to thicken the back and bring the Y in DISCOVERY, full-forked, out, round, upon.

I can’t give you much more of this book right now. First of all, I have no idea what it says. Second of all, the HTML markup I used to make this entry is very, very, ugly. In fact, it may not look right on your screen, anyway. It looks barely similar to the original in my browser.

I think one would have had to seen Pierce’s first book The Life-Romance of an Algebraist to even begin to understand some of the references here. But then again, it may not help.

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This, bound separate (until the earlier output is exhausted, when the two together may be obtainable only under one cover), will be given away with “The Life-Romance,” published by J. G. Cupples, Boston, 1891, (One vol., octavo, wide margins, bespoke paper, cloth Harvard crimson, gilt top, 204 pp., with portrait, $2 postpaid) ordered hereafter of any bookseller, a book like no other that ever will be, as twenty brilliant acknowledgements from literary sovereigns, — “scintillating,” “fascinating,” “subtle,” “sincere,” “sublime,” “gorgeous,” “fantastic,” “exquisite,” “ambrosial,” “most soul-compelling,” “so suggestive of still higher things,” “a glimpse into Eleusinian mysteries or the literature of the planet Mars,” “like purple mountain peaks rising above the clouds and disappearing in the whiteness of shrouds of mist,” one of eight hundred approving words from the (English) discoverer of the secret of the Pyramids, — expressly (“There is nothing like it in literature; and a splendid mind it is that goes flashing on through these pages.” — The Independent.) and by necessary implication agree. One from the author’s instructor in English (ending his letter), “The ebullition of your thoughts makes me feel as if I had been attracted to within a few hundred miles of the sun and had his gas-jets in full view.” — Professor F. J. Child, Harvard College.

Price of this book sent, postage (or express) paid, to any address,
One dollar.

From the back of: My Soundspeed Discovery, Expanding into a Constructive Medley of Wit and Song; being a Four Years After-Inflorescence of The Life-Romance of an Algebraist, by George Winslow Pierce. Boston: By the Author, 1895 (stated 2nd edition).

Cat Loves a Rat

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Pussy Makes a Pet of the Rat and Is a Mother to It

It is related in the San Francisco Chronicle that, four miles from Farmington, in California, resides a well-to-do rancher named Morrow. He has a little 4-year-old son, Vernie, who usually has about everything he takes a fancy to. Among the things he fancies an which he has is a large, matronly cat that has been brought up to make due provisions for herself and her progeny. Jet is this cat’s name and jet her color. Jet and Vernie are great friends, and they are frequently seen roaming around the premises together when Jet’s time is not taken up with her own private affairs. Jet has always borne the reputation of being “sure death” to any rats or ground squirrels. A short time ago, in exploring the barns, granaries, and barn yard, Vernie came upon a nest of young rats, which he immediately took up an carried to the house, and placed carefully in a drawer in his mother’s sewing machine. Mrs. Morrow objected to the nest of rats being in the drawer, and took them out to drown them, when Vernie insisted he must keep one, and begged so hard for it that his mother gave it to him. In a short time he laid it down and forgot about it. Then Jet came along and took up the young rat and carried it to her bed as a companion for her one kitten and a solace to her own mind. Strange as it may appear, the young rat made himself at home, derived his sustenance from the same source as the kitten, received the same maternal attention from Jet, who seemed to forget that she was nursing her legitimate prey, to the great delight of Vernie and the surprise of the older heads about the neighborhood. This strange state of affairs continued for two or three weeks, when the baby rat strayed from Jet’s protection, and met his death at the claws of another cat not so merciful as Jet. Strange as this may appear, it is a fact, and can be verified by several persons who witnessed this peculiar and happy family.

Interspecies snorgling!

Billiards for Women in Favor

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When winter’s snows promise to make hazards too hazardous for indulgence in golf playing, the old and interesting game of billiards will amuse the house-bound. Now the occasional woman has played billiards, for many years, and played it well; but it was not until Lord Dunraven‘s pretty daughter, Lady Aileen Wyndham-Quin, came over this year, to see her father race his handsome yacht, that billiards came suddenly into great social favor. Lady Aileen, it appears, used her cue not only with uncommon facility, but proved how exceedingly graceful a slender woman can appear when in evening dress she pockets her balls or smashes her opponent’s most careful combinations. The English girl’s exhibitions of prowess not only set her feminine friends in America seriously thinking, but valorously practicing on the baize-covered tables, until the majority of even callow debutants know something more than how to prettily chalk their cues. After many of the smartest autumn dinners the women quickly wandered down, from coffee, small talk, and satin-hung drawing-room, to the big leather-upholstered basement billiard-room, where the men found them, pink of cheek and bright of eye, over a game of sufficient strength to command even masculine respect and a desire to engage therein.–Demorest Magazine.

Demorest Magazine seems to have been a fashion magazine from the mid- to late-1800′s, and was instrumental in the development of the paper dressmaking pattern.

I haven’t been able to find much out about Lady Aileen except she was also accomplished at golfing, having won the “Ladies Trophy” at a club where her father sponsored other cups.

He was a Theosophist

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Left His Astral Body to be Kicked by the Cashier

The shabbily dressed man arose from a table containing numerous empty dishes, and with a toothpick projecting from a corner of his mouth, walked over to the cashier near the door, and remarked:

“Say, mister, do you believe in psychology?”

“To some extent, yes,” replied he, curiously. “Why?”

“An’ astral bodies?”

“Yes.”

“I was told so on the outside. Now, my bill is one-forty, ain’t it? The question arises who is to foot the bill? With no chink, I can’t. But I’ll make a proposition. I’ll open the door in this way, move out in this way–”

“Come back here, you beat.”

“Not much. My astral self is just inside the door. Administer to it a dozen or so good, sound kicks, and fire it out into the middle of next month. I won’t care. S’long.”–Ex.

I’m not entirely sure why psychology and astral bodies are mixed together with theosophy, but perhaps that is part of the joke.

Migration of Birds

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They Fly at Great Altitudes and Attain Speed Well Nigh Incredible

Boston Herald: The investigations of the celebrated artist and savant, Heinrich Gootke, have thrown an interesting light on many facts hitherto unknown concerning the migration of birds. It has been noticed that when the time of departure comes the birds vanish as if by magic. This is explained in various ways. The migration flight is always at an extremely lofty altitude, and it also takes place generally at night. The structure of birds renders them capable of existing at an incredible height. They can ascend to an elevation of from 35,000 to 40,000 feet, and at such heights sustain great muscular efforts for considerable lengths of time. At this altitude birds attain to astounding speed, a speed which seems to come to them simply for the purpose of migration. While the swallow is supposed to fly with the speed of the fastest train, the northern blue-throat, a bird which under normal conditions only hops, makes the journey from Central Africa to Heligoland in a spring night of scarcely nine hours. Its average rate is therefore 180 geographical miles an hour. The Virginia plover, according to Mr. Gootke, travels at the rate of four miles a minute, that is, 240 miles an hour. This incredible speed is of course only attained at great altitudes, where the extreme rarity of the air causes less loss of muscular power in overcoming friction and there is no wind to act as an impediment to progress. What guides birds in their migration? After fifty years of study Mr. Gootke refuses even to attempt to answer of this question from a scientific point of view. What adds to the mystery is that young birds of the year–their age not exceeding six or eight weeks–perform this first journey of their lives with the same unerring certainty as the old individuals which follow a month or so later.

“Gootke” is more properly spelled “Gätke.” I’m uncertain if the problem was the Boston Herald‘s or the Ann Arbor Register‘s. In any case, Heinrich Gätke produced a study Die Vogelwarte Helgoland of birds in Heligoland. (In English: Heligoland as an ornithological observatory; the result of fifty years’ experience). While his achievement was respected, his conclusions weren’t necessarily accepted.

Telephoning on the Congo

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Drums with Which the Natives are Able to Communicate

Capt. Five, a Belgian explorer, says that the people of the Congo have a curious and interesting method of telephoning. For a long time he refused to believe that the natives really had the power to communicate with others at a distance, though articles had been sent to him in answer to such communications. At length, one day, journeying on the river by pirogue, and being about fifty miles from Basoko, he determined, instead of stopping, to press on to the village. Then one of his people offered to telephone to the village that the party would reach the place toward evening and would like to have supper prepared on arrival.

A native with a drum then began to beat it after a peculiar fashion, and presently announced that he had heard a reply. He then rolled the drum for some time and tranquilly returned to his paddle. Capt. Five waited with much interest to see whether his approach would be expected and was astonished as he neared Basoko toward evening to recognize on the bank one of his fellow-explorers, Lieut. Verellen. A fire was burning ashore and supper was being made ready. Capt. Five, after greeting the lieutenant, inquired eagerly how he had learned of the approach of the expedition. The lieutenant replied that the news had been brought some hours before by a negro, who said that a white man was approaching by the way of the river and would need supper.

The drum used by the natives for this purpose is a small but noisy affair of wood. It is constantly employed in communicating short distances, in order to save time and trouble. In this instance there had evidently been relays of drummers along the whole fifty miles from the point where the original signal was given near Basoko. The natives are able, with their drums, to signal messages of considerable length. This particular instance is recorded in La Flandre, a Belgian publication.

Eventually the telephone won, according to this 1941 Time article, much like the telegraph in Deadwood.