152 



* knowledge; * 



[Sept. 7, 1883, 



because the older authorities class the -whole series of 

 changes together under the name of fermentation. At 

 the risk of tautology we -will again state that this 

 term is now restricted to those changes produced by 

 the presence of minute living organisms. Diflerent or- 

 ganisms cause different kinds of fermentation — thus yeast 

 produces alcohol, other organisms form acetic acid, lactic 

 acid, ifcc. Xot only does the gluten of damp flour acquire 

 the power of converting starch, but it also frequently un- 

 dergoes the peculiar fermentation productive of lactic acid. 

 (Lactic acid is present Ln sour milk.) On using such flour 

 for bread-making, the gluten attacks the starch of warm 

 dough and produces sugar in large quantities. The result 

 is that the bread, instead of being white, porous, and 

 pleasant -flavoured, is dark-coloured and sodden. The 

 sugar and acid may be recognised by the objectionable 

 sweetish-sour taste of the bread. 



Our next paper must deal with these morbid changes in 

 bread, and methods of preventing them ; particular reference 

 will be made to the use of alum for this purpose.]!^^^ k=T~^ 



FOLLY AND COURAGE AT NIAGAEA* 



THERE were daring men before Captain ^Yebb, and, of 

 course, they have found their way to Kiagara. One 

 jumped from the bridge, 192 feet, to the swirling current. 

 For fifty feet he fell like a plummet. Then he turned over 

 twice. At last he struck the water with an awful slap — 

 what the boys call a "belly-whopper." After reading an 

 account of a fatal accident, one of the numerous Mrs. 

 Partingtcns asked if the man died. So I say plainly this 

 man died, probably before he reached the water. And yet, 

 perhaps, that idea, too, has gone to meet the exploded 

 legend of William Tell. But such little accidents only 

 stimulate the reckless. Another jumper soon appeared, 

 as soon another swimmer may. He wore a harness 

 over his thcukltrs. To it was attached a wire, 

 running loosely over a cylinder on the bridge. That 

 kept his feet straight towards Davy Jones' locker, and he 

 survived the leap, to his considerable personal profit. From 

 bridge to water he went in four seconds — the only time 

 on record. Another foolhardy feat was performed by some 

 of the reckless men who decorate almost inaccessible land- 

 scapes with possibly truthful but most certainly inapropos 

 putls of ague pills, liver-pads, and such. A log once lodged 

 forty rods above Goat Island. For four years it lay there, 

 seemingly as beyond human reach as the Korth Star. It 

 touched the pride of certain sliameless and professional 

 advertisers, who were famous for their vandalism, that such 

 a chance should be wasted. 8o when the rapids were 

 thinly frozen over they made their cautious way to the log, 

 and soon there was a gorgeous sign fixed, twelve feet by 

 four, a hideous eyesore, inescapable, on the very fore-front 

 of one of the world's grandest spots, i e. : — 



Their deed almost met its deserts. They treated the log 

 too roughly. A hole was made through the ice and the 

 current soon did the rest. It was even betting that they 

 would not get ashore. But they did. This was not a fatal 

 accident. 



Of accidents some very strange ones are recorded. One 

 lady stooped for a cup of water, lost her balance, and was 



* New York Times' Niagara Falls Letter. 



out of reach and over the falls almost before her amazed 

 husband knew what had happened. Another lady stooped 

 to pluck a flower on the brink of Table Rock. She was 

 taken up dead from the rocks below. A rhyming irre- 

 verent tourist on the same day recorded a bit of elegiac 

 poetry that would have made him a man of mark in Phila- 

 delphia. He simply wrote : — 



" At the early age of twenty-three 

 Was pitched into e-ter-ni-ty." 



In 1875 an accident equally sad and foolish occurred. 

 An engaged couple went behind the falls, into the Cave of 

 the Winds, without a guide. The lady actually sought to 

 bathe in a pool which even the guides never visited. Her 

 lover lost his life Ln trying to save hers. Perhaps the most 

 dramatic accident was the following : A playful young man 

 caught up a charming child who was watching the tum- 

 bling waves. " Kow, Lizzie, I am going to throw you into 

 the water," he said, and swung her back and forth. She 

 screamed, struggled, and slipped from his hands. He gazed 

 after her, realised what he had done, and leaped. Rescue 

 was hopeless. Perhaps he did not deserve death, and at 

 least censure may die with him. 



Of escapes, tliere are one or two narrow almost beyond 

 belief, and which involve stories of skill and bravery well 

 worth telling. Not many years ago a painter was at work 

 on Second Sister's Island, when he fell into the water. He 

 was old and weak, and while his position was not very 

 dangerous at first, he soon floated down and toward mid- 

 stream, when, just as he seemed hovering on the brink, 

 and exactly forty feet from it, if contemporary records are 

 to be believed, he caught on a rock. How long would his 

 muscles endure the strain 1 And who would rescue him^ 

 and how ? The crowd was helpless until a guide appeared 

 with a coil of rope. One end he left in trusty hands, and 

 with the other he plunged into the boiling tide. When he 

 reached the poor painter the old man still held in his hand 

 the putty-knife with which he had been working. He 

 shifted the knife to his pocket, tied the painter to 

 the rope, and they reached the shore safely. In 

 another case a boatman was crossing the river above the 

 falls, when a fog suddenly came up. He lost his bearings 

 and knew he was drifting to death. His cries alarmed 

 the village, and bells were rung for him to row toward 

 them. Then an oar broke. His only hope then lay in 

 a paltry little anchor and a common rope, which was, 

 moreover, much worn. He examined every foot, nay, 

 every inch of it ; he tugged at the knots at each end. 

 Time and space were precious, but he could not aflbrd 

 to make a mistake. 'Then he threw it over. It bumped 

 along the stones, and his heart beat each time it failed 

 to catch a grip. At last it caught, and brought the boat 

 up standing ^\hile the tense string throbbed like the bass 

 gut of a harp. For the moment it held. How soon 

 would it part? He shrank from feeling along the strands. 

 He was more afraid not to lest he should read his fate 

 in the twine tense and twanging under the current. 

 Inch by inch his fingers travelled to his arm's length. 

 So long as he held there he was safe. Time and 

 time again through the long night he did this, 

 but never, he said, without a heart like lead and 

 hands quivering like a leaf. When morning dawned, as 

 at last it did, he was easily saved. In another case the 

 danger to life, tliough considerable, was not imminent. A 

 tug was towing three scows, when one went adrift. With 

 admirable promptness and address the captain of the tug 

 cut loose the rest of his tow and steamed ahead of the 

 drifting barge. There he held it by steam power, and when 

 the others came along a line was passed, the throttle was 



