simple precautions must be observed in starting and stopping the atomisers by which the oil is sprayed. In a recent comprehensive article on the whole subject of oil-burning in The Locomotive, that instructive little organ of the Hartford Steam Boiler Inspection and Insurance Company, it is explained that the proper way to start these atomisers is to light a handful of oil-saturated waste, and place it in the furnace, before the sprinkler. The steam valve of the sprinkler is then opened, and the oil valve is opened last. In stopping the atomiser this course is reversed, and the oil valve is closed first. If these simple directions are followed, there should be no danger in starting or stopping the fires; but if they are not observed, the fireman, in all probability, will, sooner or later, be badly burned. If oil finds its way into the furnace without being ignited at once, it vapourises and its vapours mingle with the air, forming an explosive mixture that requires only a spark to produce the most serious consequences. Even when the atomisers are in full operation, they should be carefully watched, because they are liable, from time to time, to "snap out,"—that is, to go out suddenly, without warning. This anomalous behaviour appears to be due to the presence of water, either in the oil supply, or in the steam. The liability of the fire "snapping out" is much diminished by providing a settling tank on the oil pipe, where the water can sink to the bottom, and a similar chamber, or trap, on the steam pipe, so that entrained water may be caught and drawn off from time to time. Firemen, after working with oil atomisers for a time, are very likely to grow careless with them, and every now and then a fireman pays, with his life, the penalty for such carelessness. For example, when a jet "snaps out," the proper thing to do is to shut off the oil as quickly as possible, and allow the furnace to ventilate itself until there is no doubt about its being free from oil vapours. A piece of burning waste is then cautiously introduced into the furnace, just as in starting up, and the sprinkler is again set in action by opening the steam valve first, and then the oil valve. This routine soon becomes irksome to a thoughtless fireman, and he is apt to let the oil run, trusting that the highly-heated surrounding surfaces against which it strikes will speedily ignite it again. This, indeed, it usually does; but ignition in this way is uncertain, and the fireman who is not prepared for an immediate trip to that mysterious country from whose bourne no traveler returns, had better not rely upon it. He had better take a little trouble and do the thing right.
That a great railway company is called upon to expend annually immense sums of money for what seem to be comparatively trifling details of its business was forcibly illustrated recently by Dr. Charles B. Dudley, chief chemist of the Pennsylvania Railroad, in a lecture at Purdue University. He said that the purchasing agent of the Pennsylvania Railroad spends from $17,000,000 to $20,000,000 a year, and of that amount about $5000 goes for rubber bands, $7000 for lead pencils, $1000 for pins, $5000 for ink, $2000 for toilet soap, $1,000,000 for lumber, and $60,000 or hose. Attention was also called to the very interesting fact that it costs nearly as much for stationery with which to carry on the business of the road as it does for iron.
