"Harnessing Niagara"—the phrase has been a commonplace for a generation; but until very recently indeed it was nothing more than a phrase. Almost since the time when the Falls were first viewed by a white man the idea of utilizing their powers has been dreamed of. But until our own day—until the last decade—science had not shown a way in which the great current could be economically shackled. A few puny mill-wheels have indeed revolved for thirty years or so, but these were of no greater significance than the thousands of others driven by mountain streams or by the currents of ordinary rivers. But about a decade ago the engineering skill of the world was placed in commission, and to-day Niagara is fairly in harness.

If you have ever seen Niagara—and who has not seen it?-you must have been struck with the metamorphosis that comes over the stream about half a mile above the falls. Above this point the river flows with a smooth sluggish current. Only fifteen feet have the waters sunk in their placid flowing since they left Lake Erie. But now in the course of half a mile they are pitched down more than two hundred feet. If you follow the stream toward this decline you shall see it undergo a marvelous change. Of a sudden the placid waters seem to feel the beckoning of a new impulse. Caught with the witchery of a new motion, they go swirling ahead with unwonted lilt and plunge, calling out with ribald voices that come to the ear in an inchoate chorus of strident, high-pitched murmurings. Each wavelet seems eager to hurry on to the full fruition of the cataract. It lashes with angry foam each chance obstruction, and gurgles its disapproval in ever-changing measures. Even to the most thoughtless observer the mighty current thus unchained attests the sublimity of almost irresistible power. Could a mighty mill-wheel be adjusted in that dizzy current, what labors might it not perform? Five million tons of water rush down this decline each hour, we are told; and the force that thus goes to waste is as if three million unbridled horses exhausted their strength in ceaseless plunging. This estimate may be only a guess, but it matters not whether it be high or low; all estimates are futile, all comparisons inadequate to convey even a vague conception of the majesty of power with which the mighty waters rush on to their final plunge into the abysm.

It is here, you might well suppose, where the appalling force of the current is made so tangible, that man would place the fetters of his harness, making the madcap current subject to his will. You will perhaps more than half expect to see gigantic mechanisms of man's construction built out over the rapids or across the face of the cataract—so much has been said of Æstheticism versus commercialism in connection with the attempt to utilize Niagara's power. But whatever your fears in this regard, they will not be realized. Inspect the rapids and the falls as you may, you will see no evidence that man has tampered with their pristine freedom. Subtler means have been employed to tame the wild steed. The mad waves that go dashing down the rapids are as free and untrammeled to-day as they were when the wild Indian was the only witness of their tempestuous activity. Such portions of the current as reach the rapids have full license to pass on untrammeled, paying no toll to man. The water which is made to pay tribute is drawn from the stream up there above the rapids, where it lies placid and as yet unstirred by the beckoning incline. To see Niagara in harness, then, you must leave the cataract and the rapids and pass a full mile up the stream where the great river looks as calm as the Hudson or the Mississippi, and where, under ordinary conditions, not even the sound of the falls comes to your ear.

Prosaic enough it seems to observe here nothing more startling than a broad cul de sac of stagnant water, like the beginning of a broad canal, extending in for a few hundred yards only from the main stream; its waters silent, currentless, seemingly impotent. This stagnant pool, then, not the whirling current below, is to furnish the water whose reserve force of energy of position is drawn upon to serve man's greedy purpose. Coming from the rapids and cataract to this stagnant canal, you seem to step from the realm of poetic beauty to the sordid realities of the work-a-day world. Of a truth it would seem that "harnessing Niagara" is but a far-fetched metaphor.

WITHIN THE POWER-HOUSE

And yet if you will turn aside from the canal and enter one of the long, low buildings that flank it on either side, you will soon be made to feel that the metaphor was amply justified. Little as there was exteriorly to suggest it, you are entering a fairyland of applied science, and within these plain walls you shall witness evidences of the ingenuity of man that should appeal scarcely less to your imagination than the sight of the cataract itself in all its sublimity of power.

For within these walls, by a miracle of modern science, the potential energy which resides in the water of the canal is transformed into an electrical current which is sent out over a network of wires to distant cities to perform a thousand necromantic tasks,—propelling a street car in one place, effecting chemical decompositions in another; turning the wheels of a factory here and lighting the streets of a city there; in short, subserving the practical needs of man in devious and wonderful ways.

Even as you gazed disdainfully at the stagnant canal, its waters, miraculously transformed, were propelling the trolley cars along the brink of the cliff over there on the Canadian shore, and at the same time were turning the wheels in many a factory in the distant city of Buffalo. After all, then, the quiet pool of water was not so prosaic as it seemed.

As you stand in the building where this wonderful transformation of power is effected, the noble simplicity of the vista heightens the mystery. The most significant thing that strikes the eye is a row of great mushroom-like affairs, for all the world like giant tops, that stand spinning—and spinning. These great tops are about a dozen feet in diameter. They are whirling, so we are told, at a rate of two hundred and fifty revolutions per minute. Hour after hour they spin on, never varying in speed, never faltering; day and night are alike to them, and one day is like another. They are as ceaselessly active, as unwearying as Niagara itself, whose power they symbolize; and, like the great Falls, they murmur exultingly as they work.

The giant tops which thus seem to bid defiance to the laws of motion are in reality electric dynamos, no different in principle from the electric generators with which some visit to a street-car power-house has doubtless made you familiar. The anomalous feature of these dynamos—in addition to their size—is found in the fact that they revolve on a vertical shaft which extends down into a hole in the earth for more than a hundred feet, and at the other end of which is adjusted a gigantic turbine water-wheel. Water from the canal is supplied this great turbine wheel through a steel tube or penstock, seven feet in diameter. As the turbine revolves under stress of this mighty column of water, the long shaft revolves with it, thus turning the electric generator at the other end of the shaft—the generator at which we are looking, and which we have likened to a giant top—without the interposition of any form of gearing whatever.

To gain a vivid mental picture of the apparatus, we must take an elevator and descend to the lower regions where the turbine wheel is in operation. As we pass down and down, our eyes all the time fixed on the vertical revolving shaft, which is visible through a network of bars and gratings, it becomes increasingly obvious that to speak of this shaft as standing in "a hole in the ground" is to do the situation very scant justice. A much truer picture will be conceived if we think of the entire power-house as a monster building, about two hundred feet high, all but the top story being underground. What corresponds to the ground floor of the ordinary building is located one hundred and fifty feet below the earth's surface; and it is the top story which we entered from the street level, thus precisely reversing the ordinary conditions.

PENSTOCKS AND TURBINES

As we descend now and reach at last the lowest floor of the building, we step out into a long narrow room, the main surface of which is taken up with a series of gigantic turnip-shaped mechanisms, each one having a revolving shaft at its axis; while from its side projects outward and then upward a seven-foot steel tube, for all the world like the funnel of a steamship. This seeming funnel—technically termed a penstock—is in reality the great tube through which the massive column of water finds access to the turbine wheel, which of course is incased within the turnip-shaped mechanism at its base.

As you stand there beside this great steel mechanism a sense of wonderment and of utter helplessness takes possession of you. As you glance down the hall at this series of great water conduits, and strain your eyes upward in the endeavor to follow the great funnel to its very end, an oppressive sense of the irresistible weight of the great column of water it supports comes to you, and you can scarcely avoid a feeling of apprehension. Suppose one of the great tubes were to burst?—we should all be drowned like rats in a hole. There is small danger, to be sure, of such a contingency; but it is well worth while to have stood thus away down here at the heart of the great power-house to have gained an awed sense of what man can accomplish toward rivaling the wonders of nature. To have stood an hour ago on the ice bridge at the foot of the most tremendous cataract in the world, where Nature exhausts her powers amidst the mad rush and roar of seething waters; and now to stand beneath this other column of water which effects a no less wonderful transformation of energy, serenely, silently,—is to have run such a gamut of emotions as few other hours in all your life can have in store for you.

A MIRACULOUS TRANSFORMATION OF ENERGY

There are eleven of these great turbine mechanisms, each with a supplying funnel of water and a revolving shaft extending upward to its companion dynamo, in the room in which we stand. Energy representing fifty-five thousand horse-power is incessantly transformed and made available for man's use in the subterranean building in which we stand. And there is not a pound of coal, not a lick of flame, not an atom of steam involved in the transformation. There are no dust-grimed laborers; there is no glare of furnace, no glow of heat, no stifling odor of burning fuel;—there is only the restful hum of the machinery that responds to the ceaseless flow of the silent and invisible waters. Day and night the mighty river here pulls away at its turbine harness; and man, having once adjusted that harness, may take his ease and enjoy the fruits of his ingenuity.

As we return now to the top of the building, we shall view the spinning dynamos with renewed interest, and a few facts regarding their output of energy may well claim our attention. In their principle of action, as we have seen, all dynamos are alike,—depending upon the mutual relations between the wire-wound armature and a magnetic field. In the present case the magnets are made to revolve and the armatures are stationary, but this is a mere detail. There is one feature of these dynamos, however, which is of greater importance,—the fact namely that they operate without commutators, and therefore produce alternating currents. This fact has an important bearing upon the distribution of the current. Each of the dynamos before us generates the equivalent of five thousand horse-power of energy. There are eleven such dynamos here before us; there are ten more in the power-house on the other side of the canal, giving a total of one hundred and five thousand horse-power for this single plant; and there are five such plants now in existence or in course of construction to utilize the waters of Niagara, three being on the Canadian shore. When in full operation the aggregate output of these plants will be six or seven hundred thousand horse-power.

SUBTERRANEAN TAIL-RACES

As we step from the door of the power-house and stand again beside the canal whose waters produce the wonderful effects we have witnessed in imagination, one question remains to be answered: What becomes of the water after it has passed through the turbine wheels down there in the depths? The answer is simple: All the water from the various turbines flows away into a great subterranean canal which passes down beneath the city of Niagara Falls, and discharges finally at the level of the rapids a few hundred yards below the Falls. The construction of this subterranean canal would in itself have been considered a great engineering feat a few decades ago; but of late years mountain tunnels, such subterranean railways as the London "tube system" and tunnels beneath rivers have robbed such structures of their mystery. It may be added that another such subterranean canal, to serve as a tail-race for one of the new Canadian plants, extends beneath the cataract itself, discharging not far from the centre of the Horseshoe Falls. Another of the power companies utilizes the water of the old surface canal which extends to the brink of the gorge some distance below the Falls. Yet another company on the Canadian side conveys water from far above the rapids in a gigantic closed tube to the brink of the gorge just below the Canadian Falls, above the point where their power-house is located.

But the principle involved is everywhere the same. The idea is merely to utilize the weight of falling water. The water of Niagara River is of course no different from any other body of water of equal size. It is merely that its unique position gives the engineer an easy opportunity to utilize the potential energy that resides in any body of water—or, for that matter, in any other physical substance—lying at a high level. In due course, doubtless, other bodies of water, such as mountain lakes and mountain streams will be similarly put into electrical harness. The electrical feature is of course the one that most appeals to the imagination. But it may be well to recall that the ultimate source of all the power in question is gravitation. People fond of philosophical gymnastics may reflect with interest that, according to the newest theory, gravitation itself is, in the last analysis, an electrical phenomenon—a reflection which, it will be noted, leads the mind through a very curious cycle.

THE EFFECT ON THE FALLS

Much solicitude has been expressed as to the possible effect, upon the Falls themselves, of this withdrawal of water. For the present, it is admitted, there is no visible effect; and to the casual observer it may seem that almost any quantity of water the power-houses are likely to need might be withdrawn without seriously marring the wonderful cataract. But the statistics supplied by the power companies, taken in connection with estimates as to the bulk of water that passes over the Falls, do not support this optimistic view. Taking what seems to be a reasonable estimate for a basis of computation it would appear that when the power-houses now rapidly approaching completion are in full operation, the total withdrawal of water from the stream will represent a very appreciable fraction of its entire bulk—one-twenty-fifth at the very least, perhaps as much as one-tenth. Such a diminution as this will by no means ruin the Falls, yet it would seem as if it must sensibly affect them, particularly at some places near Goat Island, where the water flows at present in a very shallow stream. Be that as it may, however, the power-houses are there, and it is probable that their number will be added to as years go on. Whether commercialism or Æstheticism will win in the end, it remains for the legislators of the future to decide.

Meanwhile, it is gratifying to reflect that for the present the Falls retain their pristine beauty, even though part of the water that is their normal due is turned aside and made to do service for man in another way. There is only one reason why the Falls have escaped desecration so long as they have; that reason being the very practical one that until quite recently man has not known how to utilize their powers to advantage. The effort was indeed made, a full generation ago, through the construction of the canal leading from the upper river to the bluffs overlooking the gorge below the cataract. Here a few mill-wheels were set whirling, and a tiny fraction of the potential energy of the water was utilized. There was no mechanical difficulty involved in the utilization of this power. Mill-wheels are a familiar old-time device, and even the turbine wheel is modern only in a relative sense of the word. And it must be understood that the turbine water-wheel utilizes the greatest proportion of the power of falling water of any contrivance as yet known to mechanics. It was possible, then, to utilize the water of Niagara with full effectiveness fifty years ago, so far as the direct action of the water-wheel upon machinery near at hand was concerned. The sole difficulty lay in the fact that only a small amount of machinery can be placed in any one location. The real problem was not how to produce the power, but how to transmit it to a distance.

THE TRANSMISSION OF POWER

For fifty years mechanical engineers have looked enviously upon unshackled Niagara, and have striven to solve the problem of transmitting its power. It were easy enough to harness the great Fall, but futile to do so, so long as the power generated must be used in the immediate vicinity. So, many schemes for transmitting power were tried one after another, and as often laid aside. There was one objection to even the best of them—the cost. At one time it was thought that compressed air might solve the problem. But repeated experiments did not justify the hope. Then it was believed that the storage battery might be made available. The storage battery, it might be explained, does not really store electricity in the sense in which the Leyden jar, for example, stores it. Rather is it to be likened to an ordinary voltaic cell, the chemical ingredients of which have been rendered active by the passage of the electric current. The active ingredients of the storage battery are usually lead compounds, which through action of the electric currents have been decomposed and placed in a state of chemical instability. The dissociated molecule of the lead compound, when permitted to reunite with the atoms with which it was formerly associated, will give up electrical energy.

Such a storage battery might readily be charged with electricity generated at Niagara Falls. It might then be conveyed to any part of the world, and, its poles being connected, the charge of electricity would be made available. Such storage batteries are in common use in connection with electric automobiles, as we have seen. But the great difficulty is that they are enormously heavy in proportion to the amount of electricity that they can generate; therefore, their transportation is difficult and expensive. In practice it is cheaper to produce electricity through the operation of a steam engine in a distant city than to transmit the electricity with the aid of a storage battery from Niagara. So the storage battery served as little as compressed air to solve the engineer's problem.

When the electric dynamo became a commercial success for such purposes as the operation of trolley lines it seemed as if the Niagara problem was on the verge of solution. And so, in point of fact, it really was, though more time was required for it than at first seemed needed. The power generated by the dynamo could, indeed, be transmitted along a wire, but not without great loss. Sir William Siemens, in 1877, had pointed out in connection with this very subject of the wasted power of Niagara, that a thousand horse-power might be transmitted a distance of, say, thirty miles over a copper rod three inches in diameter. But a copper rod three inches in diameter is enormously expensive, and when Siemens further stated that sixty per cent of the power involved would be lost in transmission, it was obvious that the method was far too wasteful to be commercially practicable.

For a time the experimenters with the transmission of electricity along a wire were on the wrong track. They were experimenting with a continuous current which, as we have seen, is produced from an ordinary dynamo with the aid of a commutator. But hosts of experiments finally made it clear that this form of current, no matter how powerful it might be, is unable to traverse considerable distance without great loss, being frittered away in the form of heat.

But the very term "continuous current" implies the existence of a current that is not continuous. In point of fact, we have already seen that a dynamo, if not supplied with a commutator, will produce what is called an alternating current, and such a current has long been known to possess properties peculiar to itself. It is, in effect, an interrupted current, and it is sometimes spoken of as if it really consisted of an alternation of currents which move first in one direction and then in another. Such a conception is not really justifiable. The more plausible explanation is that the alternating current is one in which the electrons are not evenly distributed and move with irregular motion. Perhaps we may think of the individual electrons of such a current as oscillating in their flight, and, as it were, boring their way into the resisting medium. In any event, experience shows that such a current, under proper conditions, may be able to traverse a conducting wire for a long distance with relatively small loss.

It must be understood, however, that the mere fact that a current alternates is not in itself sufficient to make feasible its transmission to a remote distance. To meet all the requirements a current must be of very high voltage. This means, in so far as we can represent the conditions of one form of energy in the terms of another, that it shall be under high pressure. Fortunately a relatively simple apparatus enables the electrician to transform a current from low to high voltage without difficulty. And so at last the problem of transmitting power to a distance of many miles has been solved. Electrical currents representing thousands of horse-power are to-day transmitted from Niagara Falls to the city of Buffalo over ordinary wires, with a loss that is relatively insignificant. A plant is in process of construction that will similarly transmit the power to Toronto; and it is predicted that in the near future the powers of Niagara will be drawn upon by the factories of cities even as far distant as New York and Chicago. Practical difficulties still stand in the way of such very distant transmission, to be sure, but these are matters of detail, and are almost certain to be overcome in the near future.

All this being explained, it will be understood that the sole reason why the new power-houses at Niagara generate electricity is that electricity is the one readily transportable carrier of energy. We have already explained that there is loss of energy when the steam engine operates the dynamo. At Niagara, of course, no steam is involved; it is the energy of falling water that is transformed into the energy of the electrical current. Moreover, the revolving dynamo is attached to the same shaft with the turbine water-wheel, so that there is no loss through the interposition of gearing. Yet even so, the electric current that flows from the dynamo represents somewhat less of energy than the water current that flows into the turbine. This loss, however, is compensated a thousandfold by the fact that the energy of the electric current may now be distributed in obedience to man's will.

"STEP UP" AND "STEP DOWN" TRANSFORMERS

The dynamos in operation at Niagara do not differ in principle from those in the street-car power-house, except in the fact that they are not supplied with commutators. We have seen that these dynamos are of enormous size. Those already in operation generate five thousand horse-power; others in process of construction will develop ten thousand. The generator which produces this enormous current is about eleven feet in diameter, and it makes two hundred and fifty revolutions per minute. The armatures are so wound that the result is an alternating current of electricity of twenty-two hundred volts. This current represents, it has been said, raw material which is to be variously transformed as it is supplied to different uses. To factories near at hand, indeed, the current of twenty-two hundred volts is supplied unchanged; but for more distant consumption it is raised to ten thousand volts; and that portion which is sent away to the factories of Buffalo and other equally distant places is raised to twenty-two thousand volts.

ELECTRICAL TRANSFORMERS.

The upper figure shows Ferranti's experimental transformer built in 1888. It has a closed iron circuit, built up of thin strips filling the interior of the coil and having their ends bent over and overlapping outside. The lower figure shows a simple transformer known as Sturgeon's induction coil. The middle figure gives a view of the series of converters in the power house of the Manhattan Elevated Railway.