THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME SWEAR.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9321, 22 August 1908, Page 4

THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME SWEAR.

♦ No. I. THE ACETYLENE BICYCLE LAMP. (Written- for the " Star.") It sits before me as I write, glittering, complicated and prosperous-look-ing. It wears the air; of smug complacency that makes me long tp assault it with a largo and heavy axe. But I dare not assault it, for I am a slavo of j the lamp. It is the only one I have, and long generations of law-abiding I forebears have rendered me habitually incapable of riding a bicyole at night without a light. But I did not oome to soliloquise over my lamp. I came to lay a few castiron bed-rock facts concerning it and its kind before a long-suffering and sympa- : thetic public. The acetylene bicycle lamp consists substantially of three parts — the place where you put the carbide, the water tank (which is generally empty), and the burner. Tlie theory of the lamp is that the water tank weeps into the carbide place and generates a 6tink. The stink is supposed to rush through the > 'burner and give, when tenited, a beautiful white light. As I said, that is , the theory. In practice, however, it works out something ac follows : — At 7.25 p.m. X remember that I have an important engagement in town at 7.30 p.m. I rush to my lamp, turn on the weeping apparatus, and apply a ' lighted match to tho burner. Nothing happens. The beautiful white light is 1 conspicuous by it© absence. "No carbide P I murmur dreamily, and proceed to fill tho carbide place. Time — 7.28 p.m. I apply a match again and wait patiently for developments. Still nothing happens. "No water !"I moan sadly, and I hold the- whole infernal device under the tap till the . tank is filled. Then I find that I have mislaid the matches. I search diligently and find them at 7.32 p.m. I once more attempt to induce the beatuiful white light to niake it« appearance, but it remains non-existent with great persistence and unanimity. "Burner blocked again 1" I whisper with deep religious fervour. Then Igo and search for a banjo wire to clear the burner. I fail to find a spare one, so I have to rip I one off my most expensive and orna- > mental "jo," a proceeding whioh cuts ' my hand badly. I clean the burner, and. with earnest prayer, again apply r a match. Still no light. Time— 7.39 . p.m. About- this stage I start to \ swear with real fluency and enthusiasm. ' I once moro undo the apparatus and ■ find the weeping thing is choked. I * cleau it but with a pin nnd once more : apply a raateh. Still no light. Time — ' 7.43 p.m. Then I get really wild, and take the carbide thing off again and let the tap run on the carbide. I replace 1 the Carbide thing, which sizzles and ' bubbles and gets tremendously hot, and L apply yet another match. A streak of j flame a foot high shoots from the burner. I rejoice greatly, and set forth. About a quarter of a milo from home the blamed thing goes out 'very - quietly and surreptitiously, and I walk j the rest of the way. swearing dumbly. [ I arrive in town at 8 p.m., exactly half au hour late. I try, on _ arriving in ' ! town.' to unscrew the carbide pl>*c<* to ; find out wh.it fresh turn the chronic disease*-, of the implement have taken.

wil ■■■ma— _____■— ill-Ma hi 1 1 i— ■— ....- -.-._ ~ It is as hot as a well-fired stove, and ifc is badly jammed. Alter blistering all . my fingers J get it off, and find tho tube the tank weeps into is blocked. I remove the debris, nnd the lamp works beautifully. But. alas! it is too | late to do me any good. j I would willingly sell my lamp to anyI one who wants a nice instructive piece of mechanism to toy with. Anyone could learn quite a number of things from my lamp. I have learned more; ' swear-words while working it than I , ever acquired on the golf-linke. If , half the things that I have prayed may happen to the German idiot who invented it should oome true, he will be a jit subject for much sympathy and a well-attended funeral.