In order to refine "copper" it is melted in a furnace and it is stirred with green logs of wood. The purpose is :-
In order to refine "copper" it is melted in a furnace and it is stirred with green logs of wood. The purpose is :-
A
to expel the dissolved gases in blister copper
B
to reduce the metallic oxide impurities with hydrocarbon gases liberated from the wood
C
to bring the impurities to surface and oxidise them
D
to increase the carbon content in copper
Text Solution
AI Generated Solution
The correct Answer is:
To refine copper, it is melted in a furnace and stirred with green logs of wood. The purpose of this process can be understood through the following steps:
### Step-by-Step Solution:
1. **Understanding Blister Copper**:
- Blister copper is an intermediate product obtained during the extraction of copper. It contains impurities and dissolved gases, primarily oxygen.
**Hint**: Remember that blister copper is not pure and contains various impurities.
2. **Melting in a Furnace**:
- The blister copper is melted in a furnace, specifically a reverberatory furnace. This allows for the separation of impurities from the copper.
**Hint**: Think about how melting can help in separating different components based on their physical properties.
3. **Stirring with Green Logs of Wood**:
- The addition of green logs of wood introduces hydrocarbon gases into the molten copper. These gases are produced from the combustion of the wood.
**Hint**: Consider what happens when wood burns and how it can affect the surrounding materials.
4. **Reduction of Copper Oxides**:
- Any copper oxides that may have formed during the melting process can be reduced back to metallic copper by the hydrocarbon gases released from the burning wood.
**Hint**: Recall that reduction reactions involve the gain of electrons or the removal of oxygen.
5. **Bringing Impurities to the Surface**:
- The stirring action helps to bring impurities to the surface of the molten copper, where they can be removed.
**Hint**: Think about how stirring can help mix substances and facilitate separation.
6. **Final Purpose**:
- The overall purpose of stirring with green wood is to refine the copper by reducing metal oxide impurities and expelling dissolved gases, resulting in purer copper.
**Hint**: Focus on the end goal of refining processes, which is to obtain a purer product.
### Conclusion:
The purpose of stirring blister copper with green logs of wood during the refining process is primarily to reduce the metal oxide impurities with hydrocarbon gases liberated from the wood. Therefore, the correct answer is **Option B**.
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Blister copper is refined by stirring molten impure metal with green logs of wood because such a wood liberates hydrocarbon gases (like CH_4 ). This process X is called ________ and the metal contains impurities of Y is __________ .
Blister copper is refined by stirring moltem impure metal with green logs of wood because such a wood liberated hydrocarbon gases like (CH_(4)) . The process X is called _____ and the Metal contains impurity of Y is ____:
Knowledge Check
Mark the correct statements. (i) Mercury can be refined by the process of distillation. (ii) In poling, the molten impure metal is stirred with green poles of wood. (iii) In electrolytic refining of metals , impure metal is made as cathode and a thin strip of pure metal is made as anode.
Mark the correct statements. (i) Mercury can be refined by the process of distillation. (ii) In poling, the molten impure metal is stirred with green poles of wood. (iii) In electrolytic refining of metals , impure metal is made as cathode and a thin strip of pure metal is made as anode.
A
(i) and (ii)
B
(i) and (iii)
C
(ii) and (iii)
D
(i), (ii) and (iii)
Already, the fire was dying. Kolya watched,stonily,silently as the warm, orange ribbons began to unravel and vanish beneath the cinders. To feed the thing seemed pointless-almost cruel-and he wondered if perhaps it was better to stamp it out than to let it serve. He too, after all,was hungry. He too,after all,was cold. Already that winter,he had fed it had it half the books in his great grandfather's library. It had eaten up all the Napoleonic settees and tables that once adorned his ancestral home. He'd even offered it his mother's beloved mandolin,letting the strings on which she'sd plucked his somber lullabies catch fire,snap,and turn to ash. He watched it happen and felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but warm. It was winter and sentimentality was not in season-nor had it been for many months. Besides, no one still living in the house knew how to play it. "Will this be enough?" Anna entered the barren parlor, shevireing and dragging a rococo cradle behind her,"It is not large, but I think it's dry." Kolya nodded, watching her words turn to plumes of pale steam as she spoke. Much like the lullibies, the cradle had long outlived its purpose.With pale hands he broke free the first turned bar,and snapped it over his knee before condemning the splintered ends to the furnace. Anna sat, and warmmed her hands. She was right: the wood was dry. And dry wood, laterly, was north to them than rubies. The rains, Kolya recalled, had come too early that autumn. Down in the village, where Anna's family lived, he'd overheard the pilgrims in the street, with their silvery beards and mud-caked sandals, speaking of a great rasputitsa* to the south. They'd said it was an ill omen. They'd said there were stirrings in the capital. Kolya, at the time,he smiled. IT pleased him to belong to so province, cut off from the uglinessof cities and the southern roads. *"Sea of mud,'a semiannual occurance when the unpaved roads of Russia become diffult to traverse but every day until they froze, the rains grew heavier and the news still worse. A prince disappeared in Moscow. A farmer's wagon went missing in the mire. They found his horse the following morning, buried up to its bridle, though he, like a sailor lost lost at sea, had vanished. It wasn't long before the carts quit coming altogether and in October, with the war on, the train quit coming as well. There was no timber from the tiaga, no grain from the steppes, nor sunflower seeds from the fertile, far-off south. And Kolya, for the first tme, came to know the cost to know the cost of living at the edge of the world. "We're running out tinder, you know,"Anna turned to him. "How much longer do you really think we can stay here?" Kolya frowned, "The entire hoouse is tinder-we can tear out the rafters if we need to,"he said as he laid more wood on the fire, and hung a cast iron kettle over the coals. "So long as the root cellar holds,I think we can stay." "But how long will that be? Anna creased her brow. She was anxious. Her father ought to have returned from his trapline four days ago, but the snows had been heavier than expected. Probably, he was just caught on the other side of the pass until the storm cleared-probably. Kolya stirred the kettle slowly, mixing together the blood-red beets, and the ice-white cabbage. The nightly stew with which they'd started out the winter had given way to a thin, translucent soup. It would not be long, Kolya mused, before they were little more than seasoned water. "I don't know, "he replied, raising a rabbit bone from the bottom of the pot-the only remnant of father's last outing. He ladled out a bowl for Anna, "At least, no one will go hungry tonight." She didn't smile, but leaned back to gaze at the intricate millwork and murals overhead. "When I was young, you know,"she sighed,"I often dreamt of living here. Dolokhov Palace-it seemed so mysterious up on the hill. I dreamt of lavish winter balls, of being courted by boys who would call me "countness'. " Kolya smirhed grimly, taking a bowl for himself, and sat beside her. "IT is a dream come true,then,Countness Anna." She sivered. EVen now, she could neither smile, nor meent his gaze. "Perhaps it is,Prince Nikolai. But now i'd much rather be awake." Q. The author uses the word "probably" in the sentence in lines 39-40 ("Probably...probably) to emphasize Anna's
Already, the fire was dying. Kolya watched,stonily,silently as the warm, orange ribbons began to unravel and vanish beneath the cinders. To feed the thing seemed pointless-almost cruel-and he wondered if perhaps it was better to stamp it out than to let it serve. He too, after all,was hungry. He too,after all,was cold. Already that winter,he had fed it had it half the books in his great grandfather's library. It had eaten up all the Napoleonic settees and tables that once adorned his ancestral home. He'd even offered it his mother's beloved mandolin,letting the strings on which she'sd plucked his somber lullabies catch fire,snap,and turn to ash. He watched it happen and felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but warm. It was winter and sentimentality was not in season-nor had it been for many months. Besides, no one still living in the house knew how to play it. "Will this be enough?" Anna entered the barren parlor, shevireing and dragging a rococo cradle behind her,"It is not large, but I think it's dry." Kolya nodded, watching her words turn to plumes of pale steam as she spoke. Much like the lullibies, the cradle had long outlived its purpose.With pale hands he broke free the first turned bar,and snapped it over his knee before condemning the splintered ends to the furnace. Anna sat, and warmmed her hands. She was right: the wood was dry. And dry wood, laterly, was north to them than rubies. The rains, Kolya recalled, had come too early that autumn. Down in the village, where Anna's family lived, he'd overheard the pilgrims in the street, with their silvery beards and mud-caked sandals, speaking of a great rasputitsa* to the south. They'd said it was an ill omen. They'd said there were stirrings in the capital. Kolya, at the time,he smiled. IT pleased him to belong to so province, cut off from the uglinessof cities and the southern roads. *"Sea of mud,'a semiannual occurance when the unpaved roads of Russia become diffult to traverse but every day until they froze, the rains grew heavier and the news still worse. A prince disappeared in Moscow. A farmer's wagon went missing in the mire. They found his horse the following morning, buried up to its bridle, though he, like a sailor lost lost at sea, had vanished. It wasn't long before the carts quit coming altogether and in October, with the war on, the train quit coming as well. There was no timber from the tiaga, no grain from the steppes, nor sunflower seeds from the fertile, far-off south. And Kolya, for the first tme, came to know the cost to know the cost of living at the edge of the world. "We're running out tinder, you know,"Anna turned to him. "How much longer do you really think we can stay here?" Kolya frowned, "The entire hoouse is tinder-we can tear out the rafters if we need to,"he said as he laid more wood on the fire, and hung a cast iron kettle over the coals. "So long as the root cellar holds,I think we can stay." "But how long will that be? Anna creased her brow. She was anxious. Her father ought to have returned from his trapline four days ago, but the snows had been heavier than expected. Probably, he was just caught on the other side of the pass until the storm cleared-probably. Kolya stirred the kettle slowly, mixing together the blood-red beets, and the ice-white cabbage. The nightly stew with which they'd started out the winter had given way to a thin, translucent soup. It would not be long, Kolya mused, before they were little more than seasoned water. "I don't know, "he replied, raising a rabbit bone from the bottom of the pot-the only remnant of father's last outing. He ladled out a bowl for Anna, "At least, no one will go hungry tonight." She didn't smile, but leaned back to gaze at the intricate millwork and murals overhead. "When I was young, you know,"she sighed,"I often dreamt of living here. Dolokhov Palace-it seemed so mysterious up on the hill. I dreamt of lavish winter balls, of being courted by boys who would call me "countness'. " Kolya smirhed grimly, taking a bowl for himself, and sat beside her. "IT is a dream come true,then,Countness Anna." She sivered. EVen now, she could neither smile, nor meent his gaze. "Perhaps it is,Prince Nikolai. But now i'd much rather be awake." Q. The author uses the word "probably" in the sentence in lines 39-40 ("Probably...probably) to emphasize Anna's
A
confidence and self-assurance
B
anxiety and uncertainly
C
belligerence and hostility.
D
depression and lack of faith.
Already, the fire was dying. Kolya watched,stonily,silently as the warm, orange ribbons began to unravel and vanish beneath the cinders. To feed the thing seemed pointless-almost cruel-and he wondered if perhaps it was better to stamp it out than to let it serve. He too, after all,was hungry. He too,after all,was cold. Already that winter,he had fed it had it half the books in his great grandfather's library. It had eaten up all the Napoleonic settees and tables that once adorned his ancestral home. He'd even offered it his mother's beloved mandolin,letting the strings on which she'sd plucked his somber lullabies catch fire,snap,and turn to ash. He watched it happen and felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but warm. It was winter and sentimentality was not in season-nor had it been for many months. Besides, no one still living in the house knew how to play it. "Will this be enough?" Anna entered the barren parlor, shevireing and dragging a rococo cradle behind her,"It is not large, but I think it's dry." Kolya nodded, watching her words turn to plumes of pale steam as she spoke. Much like the lullibies, the cradle had long outlived its purpose.With pale hands he broke free the first turned bar,and snapped it over his knee before condemning the splintered ends to the furnace. Anna sat, and warmmed her hands. She was right: the wood was dry. And dry wood, laterly, was north to them than rubies. The rains, Kolya recalled, had come too early that autumn. Down in the village, where Anna's family lived, he'd overheard the pilgrims in the street, with their silvery beards and mud-caked sandals, speaking of a great rasputitsa* to the south. They'd said it was an ill omen. They'd said there were stirrings in the capital. Kolya, at the time,he smiled. IT pleased him to belong to so province, cut off from the uglinessof cities and the southern roads. *"Sea of mud,'a semiannual occurance when the unpaved roads of Russia become diffult to traverse but every day until they froze, the rains grew heavier and the news still worse. A prince disappeared in Moscow. A farmer's wagon went missing in the mire. They found his horse the following morning, buried up to its bridle, though he, like a sailor lost lost at sea, had vanished. It wasn't long before the carts quit coming altogether and in October, with the war on, the train quit coming as well. There was no timber from the tiaga, no grain from the steppes, nor sunflower seeds from the fertile, far-off south. And Kolya, for the first tme, came to know the cost to know the cost of living at the edge of the world. "We're running out tinder, you know,"Anna turned to him. "How much longer do you really think we can stay here?" Kolya frowned, "The entire hoouse is tinder-we can tear out the rafters if we need to,"he said as he laid more wood on the fire, and hung a cast iron kettle over the coals. "So long as the root cellar holds,I think we can stay." "But how long will that be? Anna creased her brow. She was anxious. Her father ought to have returned from his trapline four days ago, but the snows had been heavier than expected. Probably, he was just caught on the other side of the pass until the storm cleared-probably. Kolya stirred the kettle slowly, mixing together the blood-red beets, and the ice-white cabbage. The nightly stew with which they'd started out the winter had given way to a thin, translucent soup. It would not be long, Kolya mused, before they were little more than seasoned water. "I don't know, "he replied, raising a rabbit bone from the bottom of the pot-the only remnant of father's last outing. He ladled out a bowl for Anna, "At least, no one will go hungry tonight." She didn't smile, but leaned back to gaze at the intricate millwork and murals overhead. "When I was young, you know,"she sighed,"I often dreamt of living here. Dolokhov Palace-it seemed so mysterious up on the hill. I dreamt of lavish winter balls, of being courted by boys who would call me "countness'. " Kolya smirhed grimly, taking a bowl for himself, and sat beside her. "IT is a dream come true,then,Countness Anna." She sivered. EVen now, she could neither smile, nor meent his gaze. "Perhaps it is,Prince Nikolai. But now i'd much rather be awake." Q. Kolya's point of view presented in the paragraph in lines 18-31 can most fully be described as
Already, the fire was dying. Kolya watched,stonily,silently as the warm, orange ribbons began to unravel and vanish beneath the cinders. To feed the thing seemed pointless-almost cruel-and he wondered if perhaps it was better to stamp it out than to let it serve. He too, after all,was hungry. He too,after all,was cold. Already that winter,he had fed it had it half the books in his great grandfather's library. It had eaten up all the Napoleonic settees and tables that once adorned his ancestral home. He'd even offered it his mother's beloved mandolin,letting the strings on which she'sd plucked his somber lullabies catch fire,snap,and turn to ash. He watched it happen and felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but warm. It was winter and sentimentality was not in season-nor had it been for many months. Besides, no one still living in the house knew how to play it. "Will this be enough?" Anna entered the barren parlor, shevireing and dragging a rococo cradle behind her,"It is not large, but I think it's dry." Kolya nodded, watching her words turn to plumes of pale steam as she spoke. Much like the lullibies, the cradle had long outlived its purpose.With pale hands he broke free the first turned bar,and snapped it over his knee before condemning the splintered ends to the furnace. Anna sat, and warmmed her hands. She was right: the wood was dry. And dry wood, laterly, was north to them than rubies. The rains, Kolya recalled, had come too early that autumn. Down in the village, where Anna's family lived, he'd overheard the pilgrims in the street, with their silvery beards and mud-caked sandals, speaking of a great rasputitsa* to the south. They'd said it was an ill omen. They'd said there were stirrings in the capital. Kolya, at the time,he smiled. IT pleased him to belong to so province, cut off from the uglinessof cities and the southern roads. *"Sea of mud,'a semiannual occurance when the unpaved roads of Russia become diffult to traverse but every day until they froze, the rains grew heavier and the news still worse. A prince disappeared in Moscow. A farmer's wagon went missing in the mire. They found his horse the following morning, buried up to its bridle, though he, like a sailor lost lost at sea, had vanished. It wasn't long before the carts quit coming altogether and in October, with the war on, the train quit coming as well. There was no timber from the tiaga, no grain from the steppes, nor sunflower seeds from the fertile, far-off south. And Kolya, for the first tme, came to know the cost to know the cost of living at the edge of the world. "We're running out tinder, you know,"Anna turned to him. "How much longer do you really think we can stay here?" Kolya frowned, "The entire hoouse is tinder-we can tear out the rafters if we need to,"he said as he laid more wood on the fire, and hung a cast iron kettle over the coals. "So long as the root cellar holds,I think we can stay." "But how long will that be? Anna creased her brow. She was anxious. Her father ought to have returned from his trapline four days ago, but the snows had been heavier than expected. Probably, he was just caught on the other side of the pass until the storm cleared-probably. Kolya stirred the kettle slowly, mixing together the blood-red beets, and the ice-white cabbage. The nightly stew with which they'd started out the winter had given way to a thin, translucent soup. It would not be long, Kolya mused, before they were little more than seasoned water. "I don't know, "he replied, raising a rabbit bone from the bottom of the pot-the only remnant of father's last outing. He ladled out a bowl for Anna, "At least, no one will go hungry tonight." She didn't smile, but leaned back to gaze at the intricate millwork and murals overhead. "When I was young, you know,"she sighed,"I often dreamt of living here. Dolokhov Palace-it seemed so mysterious up on the hill. I dreamt of lavish winter balls, of being courted by boys who would call me "countness'. " Kolya smirhed grimly, taking a bowl for himself, and sat beside her. "IT is a dream come true,then,Countness Anna." She sivered. EVen now, she could neither smile, nor meent his gaze. "Perhaps it is,Prince Nikolai. But now i'd much rather be awake." Q. Kolya's point of view presented in the paragraph in lines 18-31 can most fully be described as
A
generally optimistic.
B
consistently pessimistic.
C
shifting from appreciation to melancholy.
D
shifting from despair to hope.
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A copper block of mass 2.5 kg is heated in a furnace to a temperature of 500^(@)C and then placed on a large ice block. What is the maximum amount (approx.) of ice that can melt? (Specific heat copper = 0.39 J//g^(@)C heat of fusion of water = 335 J//g ).
Already, the fire was dying. Kolya watched,stonily,silently as the warm, orange ribbons began to unravel and vanish beneath the cinders. To feed the thing seemed pointless-almost cruel-and he wondered if perhaps it was better to stamp it out than to let it serve. He too, after all,was hungry. He too,after all,was cold. Already that winter,he had fed it had it half the books in his great grandfather's library. It had eaten up all the Napoleonic settees and tables that once adorned his ancestral home. He'd even offered it his mother's beloved mandolin,letting the strings on which she'sd plucked his somber lullabies catch fire,snap,and turn to ash. He watched it happen and felt nothing. Nothing, that is, but warm. It was winter and sentimentality was not in season-nor had it been for many months. Besides, no one still living in the house knew how to play it. "Will this be enough?" Anna entered the barren parlor, shevireing and dragging a rococo cradle behind her,"It is not large, but I think it's dry." Kolya nodded, watching her words turn to plumes of pale steam as she spoke. Much like the lullibies, the cradle had long outlived its purpose.With pale hands he broke free the first turned bar,and snapped it over his knee before condemning the splintered ends to the furnace. Anna sat, and warmmed her hands. She was right: the wood was dry. And dry wood, laterly, was north to them than rubies. The rains, Kolya recalled, had come too early that autumn. Down in the village, where Anna's family lived, he'd overheard the pilgrims in the street, with their silvery beards and mud-caked sandals, speaking of a great rasputitsa* to the south. They'd said it was an ill omen. They'd said there were stirrings in the capital. Kolya, at the time,he smiled. IT pleased him to belong to so province, cut off from the uglinessof cities and the southern roads. *"Sea of mud,'a semiannual occurance when the unpaved roads of Russia become diffult to traverse but every day until they froze, the rains grew heavier and the news still worse. A prince disappeared in Moscow. A farmer's wagon went missing in the mire. They found his horse the following morning, buried up to its bridle, though he, like a sailor lost lost at sea, had vanished. It wasn't long before the carts quit coming altogether and in October, with the war on, the train quit coming as well. There was no timber from the tiaga, no grain from the steppes, nor sunflower seeds from the fertile, far-off south. And Kolya, for the first tme, came to know the cost to know the cost of living at the edge of the world. "We're running out tinder, you know,"Anna turned to him. "How much longer do you really think we can stay here?" Kolya frowned, "The entire hoouse is tinder-we can tear out the rafters if we need to,"he said as he laid more wood on the fire, and hung a cast iron kettle over the coals. "So long as the root cellar holds,I think we can stay." "But how long will that be? Anna creased her brow. She was anxious. Her father ought to have returned from his trapline four days ago, but the snows had been heavier than expected. Probably, he was just caught on the other side of the pass until the storm cleared-probably. Kolya stirred the kettle slowly, mixing together the blood-red beets, and the ice-white cabbage. The nightly stew with which they'd started out the winter had given way to a thin, translucent soup. It would not be long, Kolya mused, before they were little more than seasoned water. "I don't know, "he replied, raising a rabbit bone from the bottom of the pot-the only remnant of father's last outing. He ladled out a bowl for Anna, "At least, no one will go hungry tonight." She didn't smile, but leaned back to gaze at the intricate millwork and murals overhead. "When I was young, you know,"she sighed,"I often dreamt of living here. Dolokhov Palace-it seemed so mysterious up on the hill. I dreamt of lavish winter balls, of being courted by boys who would call me "countness'. " Kolya smirhed grimly, taking a bowl for himself, and sat beside her. "IT is a dream come true,then,Countness Anna." She sivered. EVen now, she could neither smile, nor meent his gaze. "Perhaps it is,Prince Nikolai. But now i'd much rather be awake." Q. What happens in the passage as a whole?
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