Part 8 (2/2)
”But what did come next?”
”To sundials, you mean? Well, for a long, long time people could think of nothing better. They introduced trifling remedies now and then, however. For example, in the seventeenth century they evolved a portable dial that could be carried from place to place. Sometimes this was combined with a compa.s.s; sometimes it was made in the form of a ring. It was an awkward subst.i.tute for the watch, but it was, nevertheless, great-great-great-grandfather to it. Yet advantageous as it was to be able to carry the time about with you, it did nothing to lessen the long, unmarked stretch of darkness that descended upon the earth every night. How was man to solve that difficulty?”
”How indeed?”
”That was his puzzle--his nut to crack. Throughout the ages it has been conundrums like these that have taxed human ingenuity and made of life such an alluring adventure. On the conquering of difficulties civilization has been built up. Well, man now attacked this problem of telling time. He did not aspire to narrow it down to any very fine point, for at that period of history one day was very like another, and he was a leisurely being with little to do but eat, sleep, fight or hunt. Notwithstanding this, however, he did want to know _when_ it was noon; _when_ it would be day. King Alfred, one of the English monarchs, hit upon a plan for telling the hours of the night by means of tall candles, made to burn a definite interval. When, for example, one of his candles burned out, he knew that four or six hours had pa.s.sed. Other persons went further and had candles marked off into hours with black and white wax--”
”That was a clever scheme!”
”Clever, yes; and all very well for kings who could afford to burn wax tapers night after night. But there were, alas, many unfortunates who couldn't. Accordingly the obstacle persisted, and urged the world on to the next step up the time-telling ladder.”
”And what was that?” demanded Christopher with interest.
”Telling time by water.”
”By _water_! But how?”
”It was not so difficult as it sounds. In reality it was quite a simple plan. The ancients would take a jar, make a tiny hole in the bottom of it, fill it with water, and let the water drip slowly out. Having measured how long it would take to empty the jar, they had a sort of water clock.”
”Bravo! That was certainly easy.”
”Easy and far better than the sundial, too, for water would drip either in light or darkness, on cloudy days as well as bright ones. By means of marks on the jar, shorter intervals of time could also be determined.
The receptacle, however, had to be kept filled and the hole free so there should be no variation in the regularity of the dripping. This water clock was called a _clepsydra_, the name being taken from two Greek words meaning 'thief of water.' Well, as you may imagine, the populace were delighted with this contrivance. It seemed as if now they certainly had the prize for which they had been searching. Moreover, with the water clock a new factor in time came into being. Instead of telling _when_, as the sundial did, the clepsydra, by measuring a given interval, told _how long_, which was a very different thing indeed. In other words it began to draw people's attention to the duration of time.”
”That is different, isn't it?” mused the boy.
”Quite another matter altogether,” McPhearson said. ”Immediately the Athenians, who had invented the device, put it to work and proceeded to limit the length of time speakers should talk in their courts of justice. Evidently then, as now, men were fond of making speeches and arguing and became so fascinated by hearing themselves talk that they forgot to stop. Now here was something that would put a check on them.
When a case came up for a hearing, the accuser was allowed the first jar of water, the accused the second, and the judge the third. Stationed beside the clepsydra was a special officer whose duty it was not only to fill it but to stop the flow whenever a speaker was interrupted, thereby making certain he was not cheated of any of the time due him.”
”A bully scheme!” Christopher remarked.
”It worked,” McPhearson answered. ”With such strict rules you may be sure there was none of the thing the Athenians termed 'babbling.' Men guarded their words like jewels when each word meant the dripping away of his allotted time.”
”And did people continue to use this water clock?”
”Yes, for quite a time, but after a while they began to find fault with it. In the first place they noticed that when the vessel was full the greater pressure of water caused it to drip much faster than when there was not much in it. This they had not considered before, and the discovery forced them to attempt to improve it. This they did by concocting a sort of double jar. In the lower one there was a float that rose as the container filled; and since the top one was constantly replenished, it kept the pressure in the bottom one uniform.”
”The best yet!”
”Much the best. In fact it was a stride ahead from several standpoints, for although it could not really be termed a machine it nevertheless was a device that did for man something he would otherwise have had to do for himself, which is the aim of all machinery. In just that proportion he moved toward a civilization where artificial methods relieved him of his labor. Thus he advanced quite a distance from that primitive condition when he did everything with his hands toward his next state of fas.h.i.+oning tools that would do what he wished to do better and quicker; here was something which worked independently of him.”
”Why, so it was! I never thought before that man pa.s.sed through those three stages,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Christopher with pleasure; ”it makes our old forefathers twice as interesting, doesn't it?”
”Three times as interesting,” the Scotchman laughingly responded. ”Facts make very delightful stories, if you fasten them together. Scattered, unrelated information is both dry and worthless. It is only when linked up in the chain of history that it becomes interesting and valuable.”
”The trouble with me is I never know where the things I learn belong,”
observed the lad soberly. ”It's like fitting pieces into a puzzle when you've no notion what picture you are making.”
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