28o THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY 



Tin 



The story of tin is particularly interesting because it illustrates 

 (perhaps better than that of any other metal) the interdependence 

 of the elements of modern civilization. In 1862, which is about as 

 far back as accurate statistics of its production go, the world's annual 

 output was roughly 22,000 tons, of which about half came from Corn- 

 wall, and the balance in small and scattered amounts from Germany, 

 Austria, South America, Mexico and the East Indies. In 1906 the 

 crop amounted to nearly 109,000 tons, showing an advance of almost 

 500 per cent, in 45 years. When we investigate the uses to which the 

 metal is put, we find that previous to our Civil War about all the need 

 the world had for tin was for the manufacture of cooking and kitchen 

 utensils, and for roofing. Now, however, nine tenths of the demand 

 is caused by the canned food industries, and those connected with the 

 distribution of mineral oils. Tin roofs are completely out of fashion, 

 and aluminum is rapidly becoming the favorite kitchen metal. But 

 the tin can, made of plated sheet iron, is the vehicle in which kero- 

 sene has traveled to every part of the inhabited globe, and which has 

 made it possible for the fisherman, the stockman, the farmer and the 

 horticulturist to deliver their products in a fresh and edible condi- 

 tion wherever there are people who want them. It is an interesting 

 fact that quite three quarters of the annual crop of tin now comes 

 from the East Indies, and is gathered by Chinamen and Malays. The 

 region is probably the most ancient mining district in the world. 

 Tin has been coming from there in small quantities for at least 5,000 

 years, ever since the beginning of the bronze age of the archeologists, 

 and the world is only now beginning to appreciate the extent and 

 value of the field. More than fifty per cent, of this old world product 

 finds its market in the United States, where it is converted into mil- 

 lions of cans of all kinds, from the familiar five-gallon receptacle in 

 which the Standard Oil people pack their product, down to the dimin- 

 utive sardine can of the picnicker. When these are filled and sealed 

 they start on their travels, and in a few brief months — or years at 

 the outside — the neat vessels are scattered throughout the world from 

 the equator to the poles, over the plains and deserts and through the 

 mountains. Vast numbers of the larger sizes are doing duty as 

 water pails everywhere, while the remainder become vagrants and 

 strays in the refuse piles that everywhere mark the paths or dwelling 

 places of man. Thus the metal, gathered with toil and danger by the 

 patient and stolid oriental, is by the strenuous and impatient occi- 

 dental put to a use which almost immediately insures its dissimina- 

 tion to and dissipation in every corner of the known world. Without 

 tin, our present-day civilization would almost come to a standstill, and 

 certainly the exploration of the yet unknown parts of the planet would 



