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Editor: H. H. Windsor

THE BOY MECHANIC BOOK 2

THE BOY MECHANIC BOOK 2

HOW TO CONSTRUCT

DEVICES FOR WINTER SPORTS, MOTION-PICTURE CAMERA, INDOOR GAMES, REED FURNITURE, ELECTRICAL NOVELTIES, BOATS, FISHING RODS, CAMPS AND CAMP APPLIANCES, KITES AND GLIDERS, PUSHMOBILES, ROLLER COASTER, FERRIS WHEEL

AND

HUNDREDS OF OTHER THINGS WHICH DELIGHT EVERY BOY

COPYRIGHTED, 1915, BY H. H. WINDSOR

CHICAGO POPULAR MECHANICS CO. PUBLISHERS

Transcriber's Note:

Surveying and map making have always been two of the most interesting things a civil engineer has had to do. And, like George Washington, many of the men we look up to today as successes in different lines worked as surveyors in their younger days. Surveying takes one out of doors, and is apt to lead him into the unknown and unexplored byways of the earth.

Though modern surveyors often use precise and expensive instruments, creditable surveys can be made with simple and inexpensive apparatus. Of such apparatus, two of the simplest are the plane table and the camera. Since one must know the principles of plane-table surveying before he can do camera surveying, this paper will describe the plane table alone, leaving the camera for another chapter.

A plane table is simply a drawing board mounted on a tripod so that it can be set up and worked upon in the field. One kind of plane table, which is used in the army for reconnaissance, does not even have a tripod; it is simply strapped to the arm of the man who is using it.

Plane-table maps vary greatly in scale and the area they represent. Landscape artists' plans may show only single city lots, while some topographic maps cover hundreds of square miles on a single sheet. For maps of a small farm, a park, or a residence block in the city, a plane table is almost ideal, since plane-table maps are made with rather simple apparatus and do not require much actual measuring on the ground. Most objects are located without ever going to them, or even sending a rod-man to them.

Besides the plane table itself and a sheet of paper, only a small carpenter's level, a tape to measure a few distances with, and some spikes for markers, a hard lead pencil, a ruler, and a few needles are absolutely necessary for this sort of a map.

To start a plane-table map, a station must first be selected from which as many as possible of the objects to be located on the finished map can be seen. Ordinarily, the objects one would locate are corners of buildings, fence corners, intersections of roads, corners of lots, banks of streams, possibly trees, and section and quarter-section corners in the country. A railroad, a lake, a mountain, or anything which forms a noticeable landmark in any particular locality, ought to be on the map. In mapping a territory which has never been surveyed before, the first surveyor may name the hills and streams.

After the first station has been selected, it is marked by a pile of stones, a stake, or, if precise work is to be done, a tack in the top of a stake. The table is then set up over this station point and leveled so that the surface of the paper will be truly horizontal. Generally, too, the board is "oriented," that is, placed so that two of its edges point north and south and two east and west. It is then clamped so that it will not move while working on it.

The first points to have their direction thus marked ought to be the next stations to be occupied. If all the objects to be located can be seen from three stations, or even two of three stations, three stations will be sufficient. The distance to one of them from Sta. A should be carefully measured and laid off to scale along its direction line on the map. Its place on the map should be marked exactly as the first station was, substituting B for A. It is wise, after every few sights at other objects, to take a sight along the line AB to make sure that the board has not turned. A good map is impossible if the board twists.

Two men are required for measuring, or "chaining," a head and a rear chainman. The rear chainman holds the 100-ft. end of the tape on the station point, while the head chainman takes his end forward toward the station to which they are measuring. When he has gone nearly the length of the tape, the rear chainman calls "halt." The head chainman stops and draws the tape up tight, while the rear chainman holds his division end on the starting point. Then the head chainman sticks a spike into the ground to mark the place where his division end comes, calls out "stuck," and starts on toward the object point.

Large spikes make good marking pins, especially if they have little red or white strips of cloth tied to them. Surveyors use 11 markers. One is stuck into the ground at the starting point and is carried forward by the rear chainman, who also picks up the markers at each 100-ft. point as soon as the head chainman calls "stuck." In this way, the number of markers which the rear chainman has in his hand is always the same as the number of hundreds of feet which the last set marker is from the starting point.

In measuring between two points, care must be taken to draw the tape out taut and straight, its two ends must be level with each other, and it must be exactly in line with the two points between which the measurement is being made. In measuring downhill, one end may have to be held up high, and the point on the ground where the end division would come, found by dropping a stone from the place where it is in the air and watching for the spot where the rock strikes the ground. A surer way to do this is to hold a plumb-bob string on the last division and carefully let the bob down until it touches the ground. A rod with a red or white flag on it ought to be placed at or just beyond the point to which the measurement is to be made so that the rear chainman can easily line in the head chainman. The latter, before he places his marker, looks back to the rear chainman to be told whether or not he is "on line" with the object point. If he is not, and ought to go to the rear chainman's right to get "on," the latter holds out his right arm and the head chainman moves accordingly. When he reaches the right point, the rear chainman signals "all right" by holding out both of his arms and then dropping them to his side; the marker is stuck, and both move up a hundred feet and repeat the process.

In order to avoid errors, it is an excellent scheme to locate three stations near the outside edges of the area to be mapped, and locate all objects possible by sights from each of the three stations. If, instead of all three crossing each other at a point, the lines of sight from the three stations form a triangle, something is wrong. If the triangle is very small, it may be safe to use its center as the correct point; if not, the work must be repeated and checked. Locating even a few points by this method may prevent some bad blunders. The three stations ought to form as nearly as possible, an equilateral triangle; and the distances between all of them should be measured and laid out accurately on the plane table.

Weehawken, 40 White Lake, 61 What is Solitude, 79 Woman, 144 West Point, 187

Verses to the Memory of Colonel Wood, of the United States' Army, who fell at the Sortie of Erie, 163 Verses written in a Book of Fortunes, 181

THOUGHTS OF A STUDENT.

BY JONATHAN LAWRENCE, JUN.

Many a sad, sweet thought have I, Many a passing, sunny gleam, Many a bright tear in mine eye, Many a wild and wandering dream, Stolen from hours I should have tied To musty volumes by my side, Given to hours that sweetly wooed My heart from its study's solitude.

Oft when the south wind's dancing free Over the earth and in the sky, And the flowers peep softly out to see The frolic Spring as she wantons by, When the breeze and beam like thieves come in, To steal me away, I deem it sin To slight their voice, and away I'm straying Over the hills and vales a Maying.

Then can I hear the earth rejoice, Happier than man may ever be, Every fountain hath then a voice That sings of its glad festivity; For it hath burst the chains, that bound Its currents dead in the frozen ground, And flashing away in the sun has gone, Singing, and singing, and singing on.

Autumn hath sunset hours, and then Many a musing mood I cherish, Many a hue of fancy, when The hues of earth are about to perish; Clouds are there, and brighter, I ween, Hath real sunset never seen, Sad as the faces of friends that die, And beautiful as their memory.

Love hath its thoughts, we cannot keep, Visions the mind may not control, Waking as fancy does in sleep The secret transports of the soul, Faces and forms are strangely mingled, Till one by one they're slowly singled, To the voice and lip, and eye of her I worship like an idolater.

Many a big, proud tear have I, When from my sweet and roaming track From the green earth and misty sky, And spring and love I hurry back; Then what a dismal, dreary gloom Settles upon my loathed room, Darker to every thought and sense Than if they had never travelled thence.

Yet, I have other thoughts that cheer The toilsome day, and lonely night, And many a scene and hope appear, And almost make me gay and bright. Honour and fame that I would win, Though every toil that yet hath been Were doubly borne, and not an hour Were brightly hued by Fancy's power.

And though I may sometimes sigh to think Of earth and heaven, and wind and sea, And know that the cup which others drink Shall never be brimmed by me; That many a joy must be untasted, And many a glorious breeze be wasted, Yet would not, if I dared, repine, That toil and study and care are mine.

THE SETTLER.

BY A. B. STREET.

His echoing axe the settler swung Amid the sea-like solitude, And rushing, thundering, down were flung The Titans of the wood; Loud shriek'd the eagle as he dash'd From out his mossy nest, which crash'd With its supporting bough, And the first sunlight, leaping, flash'd On the wolf's haunt below.

Rude was the garb, and strong the frame, Of him who plied his ceaseless toil: To form that garb, the wild-wood game Contributed their spoil; The soul, that warm'd that frame, disdain'd The tinsel, gaud, and glare, that reign'd Where men their crowds collect; The simple fur, untrimm'd, unstain'd, This forest tamer deck'd.

The paths which wound 'mid gorgeous trees, The stream whose bright lips kiss'd their flowers, The winds that swell'd their harmonies Through those sun-hiding bowers, The temple vast--the green arcade, The nestling vale--the grassy glade, Dark cave and swampy lair; These scenes and sounds majestic, made His world, his pleasures, there.

His roof adorn'd a pleasant spot, 'Mid the black logs green glow'd the grain, And herbs and plants the woods knew not, Throve in the sun and rain. The smoke-wreath curling o'er the dell, The low--the bleat--the tinkling bell, All made a landscape strange, Which was the living chronicle Of deeds that wrought the change.

The violet sprung at Spring's first tinge, The rose of Summer spread its glow, The maize hung out its Autumn fringe, Rude Winter brought his snow; And still the lone one labour'd there, His shout and whistle woke the air, As cheerily he plied His garden spade, or drove his share Along the hillock's side.

He mark'd the fire-storm's blazing flood Roaring and crackling on its path, And scorching earth, and melting wood, Beneath its greedy wrath; He mark'd the rapid whirlwind shoot, Trampling the pine tree with its foot, And darkening thick the day With streaming bough and sever'd root, Hurl'd whizzing on its way.

His gaunt hound yell'd, his rifle flash'd, The grim bear hush'd his savage growl, In blood and foam the panther gnash'd His fangs, with dying howl; The fleet deer ceas'd its flying bound, Its snarling wolf-foe bit the ground, And with its moaning cry, The beaver sank beneath the wound Its pond-built Venice by.

THE WORST.

BY W. H. VINING.

MOONLIGHT ON THE HUDSON.

BY C. F. HOFFMAN.

And even here, upon this settee lying, With many a sleepy traveller near me snoozing, Thoughts warm and wild are through my bosom flying, Like founts when first into the sunshine oozing: For who can look on mountain, sky, and river, Like these, and then be cold and calm as ever?

Doth Achel?us or Araxes flowing Twin-born from Pindus, but ne'er meeting brothers-- Doth Tagus o'er his golden pavement glowing, Or cradle-freighted Ganges, the reproach of mothers, The storied Rhine, or far-famed Guadalquiver, Match they in beauty my own glorious river?

What though no turret gray nor ivied column Along these cliffs their sombre ruins rear? What though no frowning tower nor temple solemn Of despots tell and superstition here-- What though that mouldering fort's fast-crumbling walls Did ne'er enclose a baron's bannered halls--

Its sinking arches once gave back as proud An echo to the war-blown clarion's peal, As gallant hearts its battlements did crowd As ever beat beneath a vest of steel, When herald's trump on knighthood's haughtiest day Called forth chivalric host to battle fray:

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