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WHAT grand irregular
thunder, thought I, standing on my hearth-stone among the
Acroceraunian hills, as the scattered bolts boomed
overhead, and crashed down among the valleys, every bolt
followed by zigzag irradiations, and swift slants of sharp
rain, which audibly rang, like a charge of spear-points,
on my low shingled roof. I suppose, though, that the
mountains hereabouts break and churn up the thunder, so
that it is far more glorious here than on the plain.
Hark!—some one at the door. Who is this that chooses a
time of thunder for making calls? And why don't he,
man-fashion, use the knocker, instead of making that
doleful undertaker's clatter with his fist against the
hollow panel? But let him in. Ah, here he comes.
"Good day, sir:" an entire stranger. "Pray
be seated." What is that strange-looking
walking-stick he carries: "A fine thunder-storm,
sir."
"Fine?—Awful!"
"You are wet. Stand
here on the hearth before the fire."
"Not for
worlds!"
The stranger still stood
in the exact middle of the cottage, where he had first
planted himself. His singularity impelled a closer
scrutiny. A lean, gloomy figure. Hair dark and lank,
mattedly streaked over his brow. His sunken pitfalls of
eyes were ringed by indigo halos, and played with an
innocuous sort of lightning: the gleam without the bolt.
The whole man was dripping. He stood in a puddle on the
bare oak floor: his strange walking-stick vertically
resting at his side.
It was a polished copper
rod, four feet long, lengthwise attached to a neat wooden
staff, by insertion into two balls of greenish glass,
ringed with copper bands. The metal rod terminated at the
top tripodwise, in three keen tines, brightly gilt. He
held the thing by the wooden part alone.
"Sir," said I,
bowing politely, "have I the honor of a visit from
that illustrious god, Jupiter Tonans? So stood he in the
Greek statue of old, grasping the lightning-bolt. If you
be he, or his viceroy, I have to thank you for this noble
storm you have brewed among our mountains. Listen: That
was a glorious peal. Ah, to a lover of the majestic, it is
a good thing to have the Thunderer himself in one's
cottage. The thunder grows finer for that. But pray be
seated. This old rush-bottomed arm-chair, I grant, is a
poor substitute for your evergreen throne on Olympus; but,
condescend to be seated."
While I thus pleasantly
spoke, the stranger eyed me, half in wonder, and half in a
strange sort of horror; but did not move a foot.
"Do, sir, be seated;
you need to be dried ere going forth again."
I planted the chair
invitingly on the broad hearth, where a little fire had
been kindled that afternoon to dissipate the dampness, not
the cold; for it was early in the month of September.
But without heeding my
solicitation, and still standing in the middle of the
floor, the stranger gazed at me portentously and spoke.
"Sir," said he,
"excuse me; but instead of my accepting your
invitation to be seated on the hearth there, I solemnly
warn you , that you had best accept mine ,
and stand with me in the middle of the room. Good
heavens!" he cried, starting—"there is another
of those awful crashes. I warn you, sir, quit the
hearth."
"Mr. Jupiter Tonans,"
said I, quietly rolling my body on the stone, "I
stand very well here."
"Are you so horridly
ignorant, then," he cried, "as not to know, that
by far the most dangerous part of a house, during such a
terrific tempest as this, is the fire-place?"
"Nay, I did not know
that," involuntarily stepping upon the first board
next to the stone.
The stranger now assumed
such an unpleasant air of successful admonition,
that—quite involuntarily again—I stepped back upon the
hearth, and threw myself into the erectest, proudest
posture I could command. But I said nothing.
"For Heaven's
sake," he cried, with a strange mixture of alarm and
intimidation—"for Heaven's sake, get off the
hearth! Know you not, that the heated air and soot are
conductors;—to say nothing of those immense iron
fire-dogs? Quit the spot—I conjure—I command
you."
"Mr. Jupiter Tonans,
I am not accustomed to be commanded in my own house."
"Call me not by that
pagan name. You are profane in this time of terror."
"Sir, will you be so
good as to tell me your business? If you seek shelter from
the storm, you are welcome, so long as you be civil; but
if you come on business, open it forthwith. Who are
you?"
"I am a dealer in
lightning-rods," said the stranger, softening his
tone; "my special business is———Merciful
heaven! what a crash!—Have you ever been struck—your
premises, I mean? No? It's best to be
provided;"—significantly rattling his metallic
staff on the floor;—"by nature, there are no
castles in thunder-storms; yet, say but the word, and of
this cottage I can make a Gibraltar by a few waves of this
wand. Hark, what Himalayas of concussions!"
"You interrupted
yourself; your special business you were about to speak
of."
"My special business
is to travel the country for orders for lightning-rods.
This is my specimen-rod;" tapping his staff; "I
have the best of references"—fumbling in his
pockets. "In Criggan last month, I put up
three-and-twenty rods on only five buildings."
"Let me see. Was it
not at Criggan last week, about midnight on Saturday, that
the steeple, the big elm, and the assembly-room cupola
were struck? Any of your rods there?"
"Not on the tree and
cupola, but the steeple."
"Of what use is your
rod, then?"
"Of life-and-death
use. But my workman was heedless. In fitting the rod at
top to the steeple, he allowed a part of the metal to
graze the tin sheeting. Hence the accident. Not my fault,
but his. Hark!"
"Never mind. That
clap burst quite loud enough to be heard without
finger-pointing. Did you hear of the event at Montreal
last year? A servant girl struck at her bed-side with a
rosary in her hand; the beads being metal. Does your beat
extend into the Canadas?"
"No. And I hear that
there, iron rods only are in use. They should have mine
, which are copper. Iron is easily fused. Then they
draw out the rod so slender, that it has not body enough
to conduct the full electric current. The metal melts; the
building is destroyed. My copper rods never act so. Those
Canadians are fools. Some of them knob the rod at the top,
which risks a deadly explosion, instead of imperceptibly
carrying down the current into the earth, as this sort of
rod does. Mine is the only true rod. Look at it.
Only one dollar a foot."
"This abuse of your
own calling in another might make one distrustful with
respect to yourself."
"Hark! The thunder
becomes less muttering. It is nearing us, and nearing the
earth, too. Hark! One crammed crash! All the vibrations
made one by nearness. Another flash. Hold!"
"What do you?"
I said, seeing him now, instantaneously relinquishing his
staff, lean intently forward towards the window, with his
right fore and middle fingers on his left wrist.
But ere the words had
well escaped me, another exclamation escaped him.
"Crash! only three
pulses—less than a third of a mile off—yonder,
somewhere in that wood. I passed three stricken oaks
there, ripped out new and glittering. The oak draws
lightning more than other timber, having iron in solution
in its sap. Your floor here seems oak.
"Heart-of-oak. From
the peculiar time of your call upon me, I suppose you
purposely select stormy weather for your journeys. When
the thunder is roaring, you deem it an hour peculiarly
favorable for producing impressions favorable to your
trade."
"Hark!—Awful!"
"For one who would
arm others with fearlessness, you seem unbeseemingly
timorous yourself. Common men choose fair weather for
their travels: you choose thunder-storms; and
yet———"
"That I travel in
thunder-storms, I grant; but not without particular
precautions, such as only a lightning-rod man may know.
Hark! Quick—look at my specimen rod Only one dollar a
foot."
"A very fine rod, I
dare say. But what are these particular precautions of
yours? Yet first let me close yonder shutters; the
slanting rain is beating through the sash. I will bar
up."
"Are you mad? Know
you not that yon iron bar is a swift conductor?
Desist."
"I will simply close
the shutters, then, and call my boy to bring me a wooden
bar. Pray, touch the bell-pull there."
"Are you frantic?
That bell-wire might blast you. Never touch bell-wire in a
thunder-storm, nor ring a bell of any sort."
"Nor those in
belfries? Pray, will you tell me where and how one may be
safe in a time like this? Is there any part of my house I
may touch with hopes of my life?"
"There is; but not
where you now stand. Come away from the wall. The current
will sometimes run down a wall, and—a man being a better
conductor than a wall—it would leave the wall and run
into him. Swoop! That must have fallen very nigh.
That must have been globular lightning."
"Very probably. Tell
me at once, which is, in your opinion, the safest part of
this house?"
"This room, and this
one spot in it where I stand. Come hither."
"The reasons
first."
"Hark!—after the
flash the gust—the sashes shiver—the house, the
house!—Come hither to me!"
"The reasons, if you
please."
"Come hither to
me!"
"Thank you again, I
think I will try my old stand—the hearth. And now, Mr.
Lightning-rod-man, in the pauses of the thunder, be so
good as to tell me your reasons for esteeming this one
room of the house the safest, and your own one stand-point
there the safest spot in it."
There was now a little
cessation of the storm for a while. The Lightning-rod man
seemed relieved, and replied:—
"Your house is a
one-storied house, with an an attic and a cellar; this
room is between. Hence its comparative safety. Because
lightning sometimes passes from the clouds to the earth,
and sometimes from the earth to the clouds. Do you
comprehend?—and I choose the middle of the room,
because, if the lightning should strike the house at all,
it would come down the chimney or walls; so, obviously,
the further you are from them, the better. Come hither to
me, now."
"Presently.
Something you just said, instead of alarming me, has
strangely inspired confidence."
"What have I
said?"
"You said that
sometimes lightning flashes from the earth to the
clouds."
"Aye, the
returning-stroke, as it is called; when the earth, being
overcharged with the fluid, flashes its surplus
upward."
"The
returning-stroke; that is, from earth to sky. Better and
better. But come here on the hearth and dry
yourself."
"I am better here,
and better wet."
"How?"
"It is the safest
thing you can do—Hark, again!—to get yourself
thoroughly drenched in a thunder-storm. Wet clothes are
better conductors than the body; and so, if the lightning
strike, it might pass down the wet clothes without
touching the body. The storm deepens again. Have you a rug
in the house? Rugs are non-conductors. Get one, that I may
stand on it here, and you, too. The skies blacken—it is
dusk at noon. Hark!—the rug, the rug!"
I gave him one; while the
hooded mountains seemed closing and tumbling into the
cottage.
"And now, since our
being dumb will not help us," said I, resuming my
place, "let me hear your precautions in traveling
during thunder-storms."
"Wait till this one
is passed."
"Nay, proceed with
the precautions. You stand in the safest possible place
according to your own account. Go on."
"Briefly, then. I
avoid pine-trees, high houses, lonely barns, upland
pastures, running water, flocks of cattle and sheep, a
crowd of men. If I travel on foot—as to-day—I do not
walk fast; if in my buggy, I touch not its back or sides;
if on horseback, I dismount and lead the horse. But of all
things, I avoid tall men."
"Do I dream? Man
avoid man? and in danger-time, too."
"Tall men in a
thunder-storm I avoid. Are you so grossly ignorant as not
to know, that the height of a six-footer is sufficient to
discharge an electric cloud upon him? Are not lonely
Kentuckians, ploughing, smit in the unfinished furrow?
Nay, if the six-footer stand by running water, the cloud
will sometimes select him as its conductor to
that running water. Hark! Sure, yon black pinnacle is
split. Yes, a man is a good conductor. The lightning goes
through and through a man, but only peels a tree. But sir,
you have kept me so long answering your questions, that I
have not yet come to business. Will you order one of my
rods? Look at this specimen one? See: it is of the best of
copper. Copper's the best conductor. Your house is low;
but being upon the mountains, that lowness does not one
whit depress it. You mountaineers are most exposed. In
mountainous countries the lightning-rod man should have
most business. Look at the specimen, sir. One rod will
answer for a house so small as this. Look over these
recommendations. Only one rod, sir; cost, only twenty
dollars. Hark! There go all the granite Taconics and
Hoosics dashed together like pebbles. By the sound, that
must have struck something. An elevation of five feet
above the house, will protect twenty feet radius all about
the rod. Only twenty dollars, sir—a dollar a foot.
Hark!—Dreadful!—Will you order? Will you buy? Shall I
put down your name? Think of being a heap of charred
offal, like a haltered horse burnt in his stall; and all
in one flash!"
"You pretended envoy
extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary to and from
Jupiter Tonans," laughed I; "you mere man who
come here to put you and your pipestem between clay and
sky, do you think that because you can strike a bit of
green light from the Leyden jar, that you can thoroughly
avert the supernal bolt? Your rod rusts, or breaks, and
where are you? Who has empowered you, you Tetzel, to
peddle round your indulgences from divine ordinations? The
hairs of our heads are numbered, and the days of our
lives. In thunder as in sunshine, I stand at ease in the
hands of my God. False negotiator, away! See, the scroll
of the storm is rolled back; the house is unharmed; and in
the blue heavens I read in the rainbow, that the Deity
will not, of purpose, make war on man's earth."
"Impious
wretch!" foamed the stranger, blackening in the face
as the rainbow beamed, "I will publish your infidel
notions."
The scowl grew blacker on
his face; the indigo-circles enlarged round his eyes as
the storm-rings round the midnight moon. He sprang upon
me; his tri-forked thing at my heart.
I seized it; I snapped
it; I dashed it; I trod it; and dragging the dark
lightning-king out of my door, flung his elbowed, copper
sceptre after him.
But spite of my
treatment, and spite of my dissuasive talk of him to my
neighbors, the Lightning-rod man still dwells in the land;
still travels in storm-time, and drives a brave trade with
the fears of man.
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