Now I
place this mass of iron scraps in the crucible of the furnace and
start the furnace."
He turned a switch, and long yellowish-blue sheets of flame
spurted out from the electrodes on either side. It was weird,
gruesome. One could feel the heat of the tremendous electric
discharge.
As I looked at the bluish-yellow flames they gradually changed to
a beautiful purple, and a sickish sweet odour filled the room.
The furnace roared at first, but as the vapors increased it
became a better conductor of the electricity, and the roaring
ceased.
In almost no time the mass of iron scraps became molten. Suddenly
Poissan plunged the cast-iron cup into the seething mass. The cup
floated and quickly began to melt. As it did so he waited
attentively until the proper moment. Then with a deft motion he
seized the whole thing with a long pair of tongs and plunged it
into a vat of running water. A huge cloud of steam filled the
room.
I felt a drowsy sensation stealing over me as the sickish sweet
smell from the furnace increased. Gripping the chair, I roused
myself and watched Poissan attentively. He was working rapidly.
As the molten mass cooled and solidified he took it out of the
water and laid it on an anvil.
Then his assistant began to hammer it with careful, sharp blows,
chipping off the outside.
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