When we look upon the surface of a mirror we see the image of ourself and our surroundings. The extent of the view depends upon the size of the mirror and the distance we are standing from it.
If we hold the mirror close to our face we see only the face, or perhaps but a portion of it, and the farther away we are the more the mirror will reflect, only, of course, the various images will be smaller. The mirror reflecting exactly what the eye sees, without doubt had a great influence in inducing the experiments that resulted in the process we call photography.
The taking of a photograph with a camera may in a way be compared with the action of your eyes, when you gaze upon your reflection in a mirror, or look at any object or view. Any object in a light strong enough to render it visible will reflect rays of light from every point.
Now, the eye contains a lens very similar in form to that used in a camera. This lens collects the rays of light reflected from the object looked at and brings them to a focus in the back of the eye, forming an image or picture of whatever we see, just as the mirror collects the rays of light and reflects them back through the lens of the eye.
Certain nerves transmit the impression of the image so focused in the back of the eye to the brain and we experience the sensation of sight.
The lens is the eye of the camera, and the process we call photography is the method employed to make permanent the image the eye or lens of the camera presents to a sensitive surface within the camera.
Fig. 1 shows a simple form of camera, it being merely a light tight box with a lens fitted to the front, and a means for holding a sensitive plate at the back, the plate being placed at just the right distance to focus the rays of light admitted through the lens in exactly the same manner as the rays of light pass through the lens of the eye and come to a focus in the back part of the eye.
Now, if we could look inside the camera we would note that the image was inverted, or upside down.
Fig. 2 will explain this.
The rays of light from “A” pass in a straight line through the lens “B” until they are interrupted by “C,” upon which they strike, forming an upside down image of the object “A.” But, you exclaim, “we do not see things upside down.” No, we do not, because some mental process readjusts this during the passing of the impression from the eye to our brain.
Let us suppose we have our camera loaded with its sensitive plate or film. We select some object or view we wish to photograph, uncover the lens for an instant, and let the light impress the image upon the sensitive surface of the plate or film. Now, how are we going to make this image permanent?
If we were to examine the creamy yellow strip of film upon which the picture was taken there would seemingly be no difference between its present appearance and before the snapshot was made.
Now let us suppose that this strip of film is a little trundle bed, and in it tucked securely away from the light are many hundreds of little chaps called silver bromides, little roly-poly fellows lying just as close together as possible, and protected by a coverlet of pure white gelatine.
HOW A PHOTOGRAPH
IS DEVELOPED
Until the sudden flash of light in their faces when the picture was taken, they have been content to lie still and sleep soundly. Now they are seized with a strange unrest, and each little atom is eager to do his part in showing your picture to the world. Alone they are powerless, but they have, all unbeknown to them, some powerful chemical friends, who, organized and aided by the photographer, will bring about their transformation. These chemicals, with the help of the photographer, form themselves into a society called the developer.
The photographer takes just so many of the tiny feathery crystals of pyro, just so many of the clear little atoms of sulphite of soda, and just so many little crystals of carbonate of soda, and tumbles them all into a beaker of clear cold water. Unaided by each other, any one of these chemicals would be powerless to help their little bromide of silver friends. The first of these chemicals to go to work is the carbonate of soda.
He tiptoes softly over to the trundle bed and gently begins turning back the gelatine covers over the little bromide of silver chaps, so that Pyro can find them in the dark.
It is Pyro’s mission to transform the little silver bromides into silver metal, but he is rather an impulsive chap, so he is accompanied by sulphite of soda, who warns him not to be too rough, and whose sole mission is to strain his eagerness to help his friends.
“Go slow now,” says Sulphite, “don’t frighten the little silver bromides, or else you’ll make them cuddle up in heaps, and the picture won’t be as nice as if you wake them up gently and each little bromide stayed just where he belonged.”
After all the little silver bromides that the light shone on have been transformed into metallic silver by the developer, another chemical friend has to step in and carry away all the little bromides that were not awakened by the flash of light.
This friend’s name is “Hypo,” and in a few minutes he has carried away all the little bromides that are still sleeping, so that the trundle bed with the now awakened and transformed silver bromides will, after washing and drying, be called a negative, and ready to print your pictures from.
If we take this negative, as it is called, and hold it up to the light, we will see that everything is reversed, not only from right to left, but also that whatever is white or light in color is dark in the negative, and that what would correspond to the darker parts of our picture are the lightest in the negative, and it is from these facts that we give it the name negative.
Now, to get our picture as it should be, we must place this negative in contact with a sheet of coated paper that is also sensitive to light.
So we place the negative and the sheet of sensitive paper in what is called a printing frame, with the negative uppermost, so that the light may shine through the negative, and impress the image upon the sheet of sensitive paper. Now, it stands to reason that if the lightest parts of our picture are the darkest in the negative that less light can pass through such portions of the negative in a given time, so that with the proper exposure to light the image upon the sheet of sensitive paper will be a correct picture of whatever the lens saw.
The swiftest thing that the human race has ever put into motion is the steel projectile of a twelve-inch gun. No human eye can follow its flight. Released at a pressure of forty thousand pounds to the square inch—in a heat at which diamonds melt and carbon boils—it hurls through the air at the rate of twenty-five miles a minute, and reaches the mark ahead of its own sound! (Pictures and story by courtesy of McClure’s Magazine.)
HOW SHOOTING SHELLS
ARE PHOTOGRAPHED
One of the most progressive branches of our military service is the Department of Coast Defenses, which, under the far-seeing guidance of General E. M. Weaver, holds our shores and harbors in a state of alert preparedness against foreign aggression. At Hampton Roads sits the Coast Artillery Board, composed of officers and consulting engineers to whom are referred all problems relating to coast artillery, and who have the responsibility of testing all new instruments proposed for artillery use. The purpose of this article is to describe one among several notable achievements of the Hampton Roads Coast Artillery School, this particular work having been done by Captain F. J. Behr of the Coast Artillery Corps, who, after years of effort, has recently developed a system that makes it possible to take pictures of the swiftest moving bodies, the great steel projectiles of our biggest guns—to seize them with the camera’s eye as they hurl through the air at enormous velocities or at the very moment of their emergence from the gun muzzles, and to preserve these images, never seen before, for military study and comparison. Captain Behr was ably assisted in this work by Engineer J. A. Wilson.
THE FASTEST CAMERA IN THE WORLD
The big gun, equipped with the fastest camera shutter in the world, about to be fired and the shell photographed.
For years a young officer of the Coast Artillery has been trying to devise a camera so incredibly swift that it will record every stage of this lightning flight from the gun-barrel to the target. At last he has succeeded. His photographs—some of them taken one hundred thousandth of a second apart—have revealed remarkable and unsuspected facts to the military world. The story of his invention had never before been told.
Some of the increments and decrements of time involved in the series of photographs herewith published (several of them for the first time) are as small as one ten-thousandth part of a second. And Captain Behr has devised a method of taking photographs of projectiles as they arrive at a steel target and penetrate the target, inch by inch, that involves increments or decrements of time as small as the one hundred-thousandth part of a second. To the uninitiated it seems incredible that such infinitesimal divisions of time can be used in practical calculations; but every trained physicist knows that in wireless work scientists of to-day speak casually of experiments that take account of two-tenths or one-tenth of a millionth part of a second!
THE PROJECTILE EMERGING FROM MORTAR
In this photograph—the first of a remarkable series showing five stages of a moving projectile—the half-ton projectile seems to be standing still, but really it is traveling at the rate of 900 miles an hour. The gunners here work in concrete pits 34 feet high. Underneath the mounts are the powder magazines. Each pit has four mortars usually served by an entire Coast Artillery Company. The projectiles are the same as those used in the twelve-inch guns, but less powder is required because mortar projectiles are hurled high in the air, not straight at a vessel, and deliver their destructive blows downward from a great height.
THE SMOKE RINGS WHICH APPEAR
This second photograph shows the projectile almost entirely out of the mortar. Its sharp nose may be seen above the “gas-ring” forming at its upper end. These “gas-rings,” or “smoke-rings,” come without warning, and only occasionally, perhaps once in eight or ten shots. They rise swiftly to the height of fifty or a hundred feet, growing larger and larger, and giving forth a weird, shrieking sound like a second projectile. Some insist that these “smoke-rings” are as hard as steel, owing to the enormous compression of their composing gases, and the story is told of a bird caught in the path of one of them and torn to pieces.
What happened to the projectile after it leaves the gun, or after the discharge of the gun, and before the projectile has had time to issue from the gun-barrel? What is the action at the muzzle of gases generated? What shape do these gases assume as they leave the gun? What causes the much-discussed “gas-rings” that sometimes form when a mortar is fired, and oftener do not form? What phenomena attend the arrival of the projectile at a solid steel target? Is the steel actually fused by the heat of impact? Is it vaporized? Or what? These are some of the questions that Captain Behr set himself to solve, or to help in solving, as he worked out his methods of rapid photography. His aims were strictly military, but his results make fascinating appeal to the general imagination. Fancy doing anything in the one hundred-thousandth part of a second!
THE PROJECTILE HIDDEN BY THE SMOKE CONE
In the third photograph the smoke-cone is almost perfect and gives the famous “powder-puff” effect. It still hides the projectile, although the latter is traveling at a velocity that would take it from New York to Chicago in one hour. At night the “gas-rings” present a startling and fascinating appearance, burning with a reddish orange glow, and whirling with a complicated double motion, strange opalescent balls, like rings of Saturn. A study of these photographs—the first record ever made of the “gas-rings”—has led some experts to the conclusion that the cause of the rings is defective ramming of the projectile.
THE PROJECTILE EMERGING FROM SMOKE CONE
The fourth photograph shows the projectile emerging from the smoke-cone about thirty feet above the muzzle of the mortar. The men who fire these mortars from the mortar-pits never see the distant target or vessel they are firing at, but point their mortars according to directions transmitted to them (usually by telephone) from observers at distant stations. And so great a degree of precision has been attained that, on certain practice occasions at Hampton Roads, a record of nine hits out of ten shots has been scored on a moving target five miles out in the ocean. This picture shows the smoke-cone as first seen by the human eye.
Captain Behr’s general idea was to utilize some phenomena connected with the discharge to actuate, by electrical connections, a mechanism that would work a rapid shutter in a properly placed camera. The phenomenon of concussion was tried first—the smash of air against a little swinging door; but this was much too slow. The projectile was hundreds of yards away before the camera had registered its picture. And that chance was gone!
THE PROJECTILE HIGH IN THE AIR
In the fifth photograph the projectile is seen entirely clear of the smoke-cone and well started on its long flight. Climbing into the sky at this steep angle, it will reach a height of from three to six miles before it begins to descend. There are harbors on our coasts guarded by so many guns and mortars that if these were fired simultaneously they could hurl against a given small area a converging rain of projectiles aggregating more than fifty tons in their combined mass. A minute later they could hurl another fifty tons against the same small area; and so on as long as the ammunition lasted.
In the next trial, several months later, Captain Behr arranged to have the electrical connections made or broken by the movement of the gun-carriage itself in recoiling; but the result was unsatisfactory. Nor was he more fortunate at the succeeding target practice, when, having placed the apparatus farther forward on the parapet, he had the camera demolished by the force of the concussion and several blades of the rapid shutter broken. He was satisfied, now, that his effort to actuate the camera mechanism from the gun-carriage would never give the requisite precision in results, and he saw that he must work with a device functioning more reliably.
In the months that followed before the next target practice, the Captain did some experimenting, and finally determined making the projectile itself displace a length of piano-wire fixed across the muzzle of the gun, and thus actuate the electrical system and operate the shutter. In this way he eliminated troublesome variables of recoil, elasticity of the carriage, etc., leaving to determine only the time element of the electrical system to function. This result was admirable, and, after taking several similar pictures, the captain found that he could now operate with great precision—that is, he could get the same phase of the discharge with almost identical shapes of gas-cone and smoke-cloud, and he could get these every time.
In the fall of 1912 Captain Behr succeeded in obtaining a series of extremely rapid photographs showing a twelve-inch mortar battery in action. In taking these pictures the camera was placed on an elevation about ten feet above the concrete floor and about sixty feet back of the mortars. The electrical device for working the shutter was actuated by the mortar itself in its recoil. These pictures were taken in about one five-thousandth of a second—which is the more remarkable as the last two were taken in the shade after 4.30 A.M. The first three were taken about noon, in the sunshine, as the shadows show.
So great was the precision of the electrical device as to render possible the photographic recording of these mortar projectiles, moving at great velocities, in almost any desired position after the discharge, say two feet away from the muzzle, or six feet away, or twenty feet away, or right at the muzzle, as shown in the first mortar picture, where the great projectile has been caught in its flight half way out of the mortar.
A CAMERA THAT IS
FASTER THAN THE EYE
It is interesting to note that of these five mortar pictures, representing five phases of the firing, only the last two are ever seen by the human eye. The far swifter camera, acting in about one five-thousandth of a second, has caught all these phases as reproduced here; but, to the ordinary observer standing by, the first visible impression after firing is that of the smoke-cone as developed in Number Four. The strange “powder-puff” effect shown in Number Three is never seen; nor the earlier effects in Numbers One and Two. Nor is any sound heard by an observer or by the gun crew until the third or fourth phase has been reached. This is a matter of simple calculation.
Sound travels through the air very slowly as compared with light, and in Numbers One, Two, and Three, although the crashing explosion has taken place and the projectile is already started on its long journey, the men (even the lanyard man, who is nearest), have heard nothing, since the sound-waves have not yet had time to reach their ears. Nor has the mortar itself had time to recoil, as it does presently, down into the well in the floor of the pit.
The men aboard the towing vessels that drag the floating targets during gun and mortar practice would seem to be in a dangerous position, since the tow-line is not more than two hundred yards long for guns and five hundred yards long for mortars, and a very slight error in aim or adjustment might cause a deviation of several hundred yards when the range is eight or ten thousand yards. As a matter of fact, such errors do not occur, and a gun-pointer who would make a right or left deviation from the target of ten yards, or at the most fifteen yards at a distance of five miles, would be considered unfit for his job. In one or two rare instances a towing vessel has been struck when a projectile has fallen short and then ricochetted to the right, as it invariably does owing to its rotation in that direction. The rifling of the gun-barrel causes this rotation.
This shows one of Captain Behr’s earliest efforts to photograph the projectile from a twelve-inch gun. The man on the platform has been adjusting the electrical connections that actuate the camera mechanism. The halo effect at the muzzle of the gun is due to compressed air caused by the forward rush of the projectile. The projectile has not yet emerged from the muzzle of the gun. On the right is the place where the “Merrimac” and the “Monitor” had their famous fight.
Sometimes these great projectiles ricochet several times, and go bounding over the water as a pebble skips along the surface of a mill-pond, only there may be the distance of a mile or more between these giant leaps.
A strange phenomenon is witnessed by the observer on a towing vessel as he looks, rather uneasily perhaps, toward the distant shore battery, that seems to be firing straight at him. First there is a flash and a puff of smoke; then nothing for a period of seconds, while the projectile is on its way; then suddenly a great splash as the mass of iron strikes the water. Up to this moment there has been no sound of the discharge, no sound of the projectile, since it travels faster than the sound-waves; but now, after it has buried itself in the ocean, is heard its own unmistakable voice, a low, buzzing um-m-m-m approaching from the shore. The projectile itself has arrived before the sound that it makes in transit, and the sound arrives afterward. Last of all is heard the boom of the discharge.
A GUN THAT PHOTOGRAPHED ITS OWN SHOT
In this beautiful picture the hurling projectile was itself the photographer: that is, in passing out of the gun-barrel, it broke a length of piano-wire stretched across the muzzle and thus automatically closed an electrical circuit that actuated the camera mechanism. And so rapid was the shutter that the great shot hurled forth in the discharge photographed here has not yet had time to issue from the smoke-cone, where it is still hidden.
Owing to the great velocity of gun projectiles, it is almost impossible for an observer near the target to see them as they approach; but a trained eye can discern the slower moving mortar projectiles as they drop out of the sky, shrieking as they come, curving downward from a height of four or five miles, half a ton falling from a height of four or five miles.
EXPLODING A SUBMARINE MINE
This photograph illustrates another important form of coast defense—the submarine mine. A target about 5 by 5 feet, with a red flag at its apex, is towed across the mine-field, the mines being exploded electrically from a shore station several miles away. The methods of laying and exploding these mines are carefully kept secrets. In this case a charge of five hundred pounds of the newest explosive was used. Fragments of the shattered target and mine-buoy are seen at the right of the picture. Tons of water are hurled into the air by these explosions, and hundreds of fish are killed or stunned.
It is difficult to realize what an enormous force is released when one of these twelve-inch guns is discharged. The pressure inside of the gun behind the projectile is between thirty-five and forty thousand pounds to the square inch. No engine or machine made by man produces anything like this pressure. The boiler pressure in steam-engines, or in big turbines driven by superheated steam, does not exceed two hundred or three hundred pounds to the square inch. The huge hydraulic presses that would crumple up a steel girder do not exert a pressure of more than one thousand pounds to the square inch. The only reason a gun-barrel can resist this pressure (forty thousand pounds to the square inch) is that it is built up in a series of concentric steel hoops or tubes shrunk one over the other until there is a resistance capacity of from seventy thousand to ninety thousand pounds to the square inch. Even at rest, the barrels of these great guns are under such enormous compression, from being thus squeezed within these outer steel coverings, that, if the retaining steel jackets were suddenly cut, the tubes would blow themselves into pieces from the violent reaction of release.
Not only does this smokeless powder, burning inside these guns, produce enormous pressure, but it generates inconceivably great heat. Water boils at 100° Centigrade; iron melts at 1400°; platinum and the most resistant metals at 2900°; while the hottest thing on earth is the temperature of the electric arc, in which carbon boils. This temperature is between 3000° and 4000° Centigrade, and is believed to be the same as that of these great powder chambers when the gun is fired. Thus a diamond, the hardest substance known, would melt in the barrel of a twelve-inch gun at the moment of discharge. The consequence is that at each discharge of a big gun a thin skin of metal inside the barrel is literally fused, and this leads to rapid erosion of the softened surfaces under the tearing pressure of gases generated. The rifling is worn away; the band over the projectile becomes loose-fitting; and soon the huge gun, that has cost such a great sum, is rendered unfit for service. The life of a twelve-inch gun is only 450 rounds, that is, the gun would be worn out if fired every three minutes for a single day. After that a new life may be given it by boring out the inner tube and putting in a new steel lining.
A few words may be added about the formidable smokeless powder used in these great guns. This powder, in spite of its terrible power, is of innocent appearance, and a small stick of it may be held safely in the hand while it burns with a vivid yellowish flame. There is no danger of its exploding or detonating like gun-cotton, and yet it is made from gun-cotton, treated by a colloiding process that is one of our jealously guarded military secrets. There are foreign governments that would give millions to know exactly how this powder is made and how it is preserved for years without deterioration. The recent destruction of two ships of the French navy was due, it is believed, to deterioration of their smokeless powder.
If a person’s picture is taken with the eyes of the person looking directly into the lens or opening of the camera, then the eyes in the picture will always be directly on and appear to follow whoever is looking at it. This is also true of paintings. If a subject being painted is posed so as to look directly at the painter, and the artist paints the picture with the eyes so pointed, then the eyes of the picture will follow you. When you are looking at a picture of a person and the eyes do not follow you, you will know at once that he was not looking at the camera or artist when the picture was being taken or painted.
WHY YOU CAN BLOW
OUT A CANDLE
To understand the answer to this question fully you will first have to learn what light is, and particularly that it is not the flame from the gas jet or of the lamp or candle that is actually the light, but that light consists of rays or waves in the ether, which is constantly in all space and even in our bodies, coming from the something that is burning. This in the instance above mentioned would be the gas burning as it comes out of the gas jet, the oil in the lamp as it comes up through the wick or the flame of the candle. We are apt to call a lighted gas jet a lamp, or a candle, light, because it is steady. Really, however, there is no such thing as keeping light in a room in an actual sense, for rays of light travel from the substance which produces them faster than anything else we know of in the world. The first thing a light wave does when it is once created is to go some place, and it does this at the rate of 186,000 miles per second. If it cannot penetrate the walls of the room it is either reflected back in the direction from which it came or transformed by the objects which it strikes into some other kind of energy.
When you look at the rays coming from a gas jet, you do not see one ray for more than, say the millionth part of a second, but because these rays of light come so fast one after the other from the burning jet and spread in all directions, they seem to be continuous.
So you see that the rays of light are going away as fast as they are coming from the gas jet. They either go on as light or, as said above, are changed into other forms of energy when they strike things they cannot penetrate in the form of light, or rather one thing, which is heat. A large part of it goes into the air in the room in the form of heat, as you well know, now that it is called to your attention. Some of it goes into the furniture and some of it is changed into another form of heat, which, combining with the chemicals in other things it mixes with, changes their appearance and usefulness. As, for instance, the carpets and hangings in the room, the colors of which become faded when exposed to light rays too much. The heat from the light rays is responsible for the fading of colors in our garments as well.
When you “put out the light,” as we say, or turn off the gas, you cut off the source of light. Really, then, our expression that “the light goes out” is only true while the gas is lighted, for from the flaming gas jet the light is going out all the time, whereas when the gas is turned off no light is being produced, and when you turn off the gas you do not turn out the light, but only that which makes light.
Fire will go out naturally when there is nothing left to burn, or it will go out if it cannot secure enough oxygen out of the air to keep it going. In the first case it dies what we might call a “natural death,” and in the latter case the fire practically suffocates. The fire in the open fireplace, if it has plenty of air, will burn up everything burnable that it can reach. The stones of the fireplace or other parts of a stove will not burn, because they have already been burned, and you cannot burn anything a second time, if all of the oxygen in it was burned out of it the first time.
Now, then, to burn up a thing, you must first start a fire under it, and then keep a constant draft of air playing on it from beneath, or the fire will die out. The more difficult a thing is to burn, the more important it is that you have plenty of draft. If the ashes accumulate under the fire the air cannot go through them in sufficient quantity and the fire will go out. Other things which prevent the current of air from going up through the fire will cause it to go out. That is why we close the lower door of the furnace, to keep the fire from burning out. When we shut off the draft of air from below, the fire in the furnace burns slowly, i. e., it just hangs on, so to speak.
When a lamp is burning without a chimney it generally smokes. That is because the oil which is coming up through the wick is being only partially burned. The carbon, which is about one-half of what the oil contains, is not being burned at all, and goes off into the air in little black specks with the gases which are thrown off. The reason the carbon is not burned when the chimney is off is that there is not sufficient oxygen from the air combining with it, as it is separated from the oil in the partial combustion that is going on. To make the carbon in the oil burn you must mix it with plenty of oxygen at a certain temperature, and this can only be done by forcing sufficient oxygen through the flame to bring the heat of the flame to the point where the carbon will combine with it and burn. When you put the chimney on the lamp you create a draft which forces more oxygen through the flame, brings the heat up to the proper temperature and enables the carbon to combine with it and burn. When you take the chimney off again the heat goes down, when the draft is shut off and the lamp smokes again.
The chimney also protects the flame of the lamp from drafts from the sides and above, and helps to make a brighter light, because a steady light is brighter than a flickering one.
The draft created by the chimney also forces the gases produced by the burning oil up and away from the flame. Some of these gases have a tendency to put out a light or a fire.
To get at the answer to this question we must go back to the definition of light. Light is a wave in the ether and contains no particles of matter. It, therefore, does not weigh anything at all.
When men had studied light thoroughly, however, they came to the conclusion that it must have the power of pressure, which, from the standpoint of results, would amount to the same thing as having weight. They reasoned that if you had a perfect balance and let sunlight shine down on one of the sides of the balance, that side should go down under the pressure of light. In their first experiments along this line men failed to show that under such conditions the side of the balance on which the light shone did go down, but by continuous experiments it was proved finally that the light did exert a sufficient pressure to cause the scales to go down, and in effect this is the same as having weight; but this has been found to be a common property of rays of various kinds, including heat, and we, therefore, do not speak of this quality as weight, but as the power of radiating pressure.
When light passes from one medium to another, as for example from glass or water to air, or from air or glass to water, the rays of light change their course, thus making them seem to be bent or broken. The rays of light from the part of the stick in the water take a different direction from the rays from the part which is out of the water, giving the appearance of breaking or bending at the place where the air and water meet. It is, of course, the light rays which are bent and not the object itself.
This bending or changing of the path of light rays is called refraction. If you place a coin in a glass of water so that it may be viewed obliquely, you can apparently see two coins, a small one through the surface of the water and another apparently magnified through the side of the glass.
This is due only to the absolute principle that rays of light change their direction in passing from one thing to another, and on this principle of the rays of light our optical instruments, including the microscope, the telescope, the camera and eyeglasses are based.
I might tell you, just to show how clever I am, that stars do not twinkle at all, and leave you with that for an answer. But since they really do seem to twinkle, and that is what causes your question, I will tell you. As we have already learned in our talks about the stars and the sky in general, the stars are suns which are constantly throwing off light, just as our sun gives us light, and when this light strikes the air which surrounds the earth it meets many objects—little particles of dust and other things always floating about in it. The light comes to us in the form of rays from the stars and some of these rays strike particles of various kinds in the air and are thus interfered with. If you are looking at a lighted window some distance away and there are a lot of boys and girls or men and women running past the window, one after the other, rapidly, it will make the light in the window appear to twinkle. The twinkling is due to the interference which the rays of light encounter while traveling toward the eye.
That is nature’s way of protecting the eyes from the smarting which the onion would cause in your eyes if the tears did not come quickly and overcome the bad effect so produced. Tears are provided for washing the ball of your eyes. Every time you wink a little tear is released from under the eyelid, and the wink spreads it all over the eyeball. This washes down the front of the eyeball and cleanses it of all dust and other things that fly at the eye from the air. Then the tear runs along a little channel, much like a trough, at the lower part of the eye, and out through a little hole in the eye, and in this case the tear is really only an eye-wash. Many things, but more often sadness or injured feelings, start the tears coming so fast from under the eyelid that the little trough at the bottom and the hole in the corner of the eye are too small to hold them or carry them off, so they roll over the edge of the lower eyelid and down the face. These are what we call tears. Among other things that will cause tear-glands to cause an over-supply of eye-wash to come down, are onions. What they give off is very trying to the eyes, and so, just as soon as the something which an onion throws off hits the eyeball, the nerves of the eye telegraph the brain to turn on the tears quickly, and they come in a little deluge and counteract the bad effect of the onion.
SOME REMARKABLE PICTURES WITH A FAST CAMERA
Somersault in the air -- Racing car jumping on dirt road -- Surfer standing on board -- Rower doing handstand in boat -- Divers holding each other's hands and feet