Amusements in Mathematics, Henry Ernest Dudeney [books to read to be successful txt] 📗

"I think it will surprise you all," said the curate, "to learn that those extra six yards would make the distance from the earth all round the girdle very nearly a yard!"

"Very nearly a yard!" everybody exclaimed, with astonishment; but Mr. Smoothly was quite correct. The increase is independent of the original length of the girdle, which may be round the earth or round an orange; in any case the additional six yards will give a distance of nearly a yard all round. This is apt to surprise the non-mathematical mind.

"Did you hear the story of the extraordinary precocity of Mrs. Perkins's baby that died last week?" asked Mrs. Allgood. "It was only three months old, and lying at the point of death, when the grief-stricken mother asked the doctor if nothing could save it. 'Absolutely nothing!' said the doctor. Then the infant looked up pitifully into its mother's face and said—absolutely nothing!"

"Impossible!" insisted Mildred. "And only three months old!"

"There have been extraordinary cases of infantile precocity," said Mr. Filkins, "the truth of which has often been carefully attested. But are you sure this really happened, Mrs. Allgood?"

"Positive," replied the lady. "But do you really think it astonishing that a child of three months should say absolutely nothing? What would you expect it to say?"

"Speaking of death," said Mr. Smoothly, solemnly, "I knew two men, father and son, who died in the same battle during the South African War. They were both named Andrew Johnson and buried side by side, but there was some difficulty in distinguishing them on the headstones. What would you have done?"

"Quite simple," said Mr. Allgood. "They should have described one as 'Andrew Johnson, Senior,' and the other as 'Andrew Johnson, Junior.'"

"But I forgot to tell you that the father died first."

"What difference can that make?"

"Well, you see, they wanted to be absolutely exact, and that was the difficulty."

"But I don't see any difficulty," said Mr. Allgood, nor could anybody else.

"Well," explained Mr. Smoothly, "it is like this. If the father died first, the son was then no longer 'Junior.' Is that so?"

"To be strictly exact, yes."

"That is just what they wanted—to be strictly exact. Now, if he was no longer 'Junior,' then he did not die 'Junior." Consequently it must be incorrect so to describe him on the headstone. Do you see the point?"

"Here is a rather curious thing," said Mr. Filkins, "that I have just remembered. A man wrote to me the other day that he had recently discovered two old coins while digging in his garden. One was dated '51 B.C.,' and the other one marked 'George I.' How do I know that he was not writing the truth?"

"Perhaps you know the man to be addicted to lying," said Reginald.

"But that would be no proof that he was not telling the truth in this instance."

"Perhaps," suggested Mildred, "you know that there were no coins made at those dates.

"On the contrary, they were made at both periods."

"Were they silver or copper coins?" asked Willie.

"My friend did not state, and I really cannot see, Willie, that it makes any difference."

"I see it!" shouted Reginald. "The letters 'B.C.' would never be used on a coin made before the birth of Christ. They never anticipated the event in that way. The letters were only adopted later to denote dates previous to those which we call 'A.D.' That is very good; but I cannot see why the other statement could not be correct."

"Reginald is quite right," said Mr. Filkins, "about the first coin. The second one could not exist, because the first George would never be described in his lifetime as 'George I.'"

"Why not?" asked Mrs. Allgood. "He was George I."

"Yes; but they would not know it until there was a George II."

"Then there was no George II. until George III. came to the throne?"

"That does not follow. The second George becomes 'George II.' on account of there having been a 'George I.'"

"Then the first George was 'George I.' on account of there having been no king of that name before him."

"Don't you see, mother," said George Allgood, "we did not call Queen Victoria 'Victoria I.;' but if there is ever a 'Victoria II.,' then she will be known that way."

"But there have been several Georges, and therefore he was 'George I.' There haven't been several Victorias, so the two cases are not similar."

They gave up the attempt to convince Mrs. Allgood, but the reader will, of course, see the point clearly.

"Here is a question," said Mildred Allgood, "that I should like some of you to settle for me. I am accustomed to buy from our greengrocer bundles of asparagus, each 12 inches in circumference. I always put a tape measure round them to make sure I am getting the full quantity. The other day the man had no large bundles in stock, but handed me instead two small ones, each 6 inches in circumference. 'That is the same thing,' I said, 'and, of course, the price will be the same;' but he insisted that the two bundles together contained more than the large one, and charged me a few pence extra. Now, what I want to know is, which of us was correct? Would the two small bundles contain the same quantity as the large one? Or would they contain more?"

"That is the ancient puzzle," said Reginald, laughing, "of the sack of corn that Sempronius borrowed from Caius, which your greengrocer, perhaps, had been reading about somewhere. He caught you beautifully."

"Then they were equal?"

"On the contrary, you were both wrong, and you were badly cheated. You only got half the quantity that would have been contained in a large bundle, and therefore ought to have been charged half the original price, instead of more."

Yes, it was a bad swindle, undoubtedly. A circle with a circumference half that of another must have its area a quarter that of the other. Therefore the two small bundles contained together only half as much asparagus as a large one.

"Mr. Filkins, can you answer this?" asked Willie. "There is a man in the next village who eats two eggs for breakfast every morning."

"Nothing very extraordinary in that," George broke in. "If you told us that the two eggs ate the man it would be interesting."

"Don't interrupt the boy, George," said his mother.

"Well," Willie continued, "this man neither buys, borrows, barters, begs, steals, nor finds the eggs. He doesn't keep hens, and the eggs are not given to him. How does he get the eggs?"

"Does he take them in exchange for something else?" asked Mildred.

"That would be bartering them," Willie replied.

"Perhaps some friend sends them to him," suggested Mrs. Allgood.

"I said that they were not given to him."

"I know," said George, with confidence. "A strange hen comes into his place and lays them."

"But that would be finding them, wouldn't it?"

"Does he hire them?" asked Reginald.

"If so, he could not return them after they were eaten, so that would be stealing them."

"Perhaps it is a pun on the word 'lay,'" Mr. Filkins said. "Does he lay them on the table?"

"He would have to get them first, wouldn't he? The question was, How does he get them?"

"Give it up!" said everybody. Then little Willie crept round to the protection of his mother, for George was apt to be rough on such occasions.

"The man keeps ducks!" he cried, "and his servant collects the eggs every morning."

"But you said he doesn't keep birds!" George protested.

"I didn't, did I, Mr. Filkins? I said he doesn't keep hens."

"But he finds them," said Reginald.

"No; I said his servant finds them."

"Well, then," Mildred interposed, "his servant gives them to him."

"You cannot give a man his own property, can you?"

All agreed that Willie's answer was quite satisfactory. Then Uncle John produced a little fallacy that "brought the proceedings to a close," as the newspapers say.

413.—A CHESSBOARD FALLACY.

"Here is a diagram of a chessboard," he said. "You see there are sixty-four squares—eight by eight. Now I draw a straight line from the top left-hand corner, where the first and second squares meet, to the bottom right-hand corner. I cut along this line with the scissors, slide up the piece that I have marked B, and then clip off the little corner C by a cut along the first upright line. This little piece will exactly fit into its place at the top, and we now have an oblong with seven squares on one side and nine squares on the other. There are, therefore, now only sixty-three squares, because seven multiplied by nine makes sixty-three. Where on earth does that lost square go to? I have tried over and over again to catch the little beggar, but he always eludes me. For the life of me I cannot discover where he hides himself."

"It seems to be like the other old chessboard fallacy, and perhaps the explanation is the same," said Reginald—"that the pieces do not exactly fit."

"But they do fit," said Uncle John. "Try it, and you will see."

Later in the evening Reginald and George, were seen in a corner with their heads together, trying to catch that elusive little square, and it is only fair to record that before they retired for the night they succeeded in securing their prey, though some others of the company failed to see it when captured. Can the reader solve the little mystery?

UNCLASSIFIED PROBLEMS.

"A snapper up of unconsidered trifles."
Winter's Tale, iv. 2.

414.—WHO WAS FIRST?

Anderson, Biggs, and Carpenter were staying together at a place by the seaside. One day they went out in a boat and were a mile at sea when a rifle was fired on shore in their direction. Why or by whom the shot was fired fortunately does not concern us, as no information on these points is obtainable, but from the facts I picked up we can get material for a curious little puzzle for the novice.

It seems that Anderson only heard the report of the gun, Biggs only saw the smoke, and Carpenter merely saw the bullet strike the water near them. Now, the question arises: Which of them first knew of the discharge of the rifle?

415.—A WONDERFUL VILLAGE.

There is a certain village in Japan, situated in a very low valley, and yet the sun is nearer to the inhabitants every noon, by 3,000 miles and upwards, than when he either rises or sets to these people. In what part of the country is the village situated?

416.—A CALENDAR PUZZLE.

If the end of the world should come on the first day of a new century, can you say what are the chances that it will happen on a Sunday?

417.—THE TIRING IRONS.

The illustration represents one of the most ancient of all mechanical puzzles. Its origin is unknown. Cardan, the mathematician, wrote about it in 1550, and Wallis in 1693; while it is said still to be found in obscure English villages (sometimes deposited in strange places, such as a church belfry), made of iron, and appropriately called "tiring-irons," and to be used by the Norwegians to-day as a lock for boxes and bags. In the toyshops it is sometimes called the "Chinese rings," though there seems to be no authority for the description, and it more frequently goes by the unsatisfactory name of "the puzzling rings." The French call it "Baguenaudier."

The puzzle will be seen to consist of a simple loop of wire fixed in a handle to be held in the left hand, and a certain number of rings secured by wires which pass through holes in the bar and are kept there by their blunted ends. The wires work freely in the bar, but cannot