which changes the ingredients of the crust of the earth into useful products, to be further transformed by commerce into gold? Is that knowledge not the philosopher's stone which promises to disclose the laws of life, and which must finally yield to us the means of curing diseases and of prolonging life?" With these remarks we will take our leave of the ancient alchemists, and proceed to consider the labours of the alchemists of the present day.
Let us step into a laboratory and surprise one of these men of science at his work. What a different place from the smoky workshop of the alchemist of former days! The massive furnaces have given way to cunning contrivances for gas, and all the clumsy alembics, aludels, and earthen vessels which were once in vogue, have been displaced to make room for tiny bottles, retorts, glass tubes, and balances.
The alchemist himself has shaved off his long beard, and has discarded his ample gown; he now wears a most unpicturesque black coat, and looks for all the world like an ordinary person.
What is he doing? Is he trying to transmute lead into gold? No, he is not satisfied that the metals are transmutable, and he cannot afford to waste his life in researches which may never lead to satisfactory results. He is doing something which seems quite as extraordinary as gold making—he is extracting a beautiful metal from clay!
This metal, which is called aluminium, was first
