{"id":"01KG6YHDZ0F9AS3165DGS2CM70","cid":"bafkreih2qygpfywqjoc75d4ib7sjdsk5y3efd5ypiq2yiphykibt7fhmcu","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5642,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG6YDDF6PTWG4P7JTS5THSTD","start_line":5563,"text":"by far the most dangerous part of a house, during such a terrific\r\ntempest as this, is the fire-place?”\r\n\r\n“Nay, I did not know that,” involuntarily stepping upon the first board\r\nnext to the stone.\r\n\r\nThe stranger now assumed such an unpleasant air of successful\r\nadmonition, that—quite involuntarily again—I stepped back upon the\r\nhearth, and threw myself into the erectest, proudest posture I could\r\ncommand. But I said nothing.\r\n\r\n“For Heaven’s sake,” he cried, with a strange mixture of alarm and\r\nintimidation—“for Heaven’s sake, get off the hearth! Know you not, that\r\nthe heated air and soot are conductors;—to say nothing of those immense\r\niron fire-dogs? Quit the spot—I conjure—I command you.”\r\n\r\n“Mr. Jupiter Tonans, I am not accustomed to be commanded in my own\r\nhouse.”\r\n\r\n“Call me not by that pagan name. You are profane in this time of\r\nterror.”\r\n\r\n“Sir, will you be so good as to tell me your business? If you seek\r\nshelter from the storm, you are welcome, so long as you be civil; but\r\nif you come on business, open it forthwith. Who are you?”\r\n\r\n“I am a dealer in lightning-rods,” said the stranger, softening his\r\ntone; “my special business is—Merciful heaven! what a crash!—Have you\r\never been struck—your premises, I mean? No? It’s best to be\r\nprovided;”—significantly rattling his metallic staff on the floor;—“by\r\nnature, there are no castles in thunder-storms; yet, say but the word,\r\nand of this cottage I can make a Gibraltar by a few waves of this wand.\r\nHark, what Himalayas of concussions!”\r\n\r\n“You interrupted yourself; your special business you were about to\r\nspeak of.”\r\n\r\n“My special business is to travel the country for orders for\r\nlightning-rods. This is my specimen-rod;” tapping his staff; “I have\r\nthe best of references”—fumbling in his pockets. “In Criggan last\r\nmonth, I put up three-and-twenty rods on only five buildings.”\r\n\r\n“Let me see. Was it not at Criggan last week, about midnight on\r\nSaturday, that the steeple, the big elm, and the assembly-room cupola\r\nwere struck? Any of your rods there?”\r\n\r\n“Not on the tree and cupola, but the steeple.”\r\n\r\n“Of what use is your rod, then?”\r\n\r\n“Of life-and-death use. But my workman was heedless. In fitting the rod\r\nat top to the steeple, he allowed a part of the metal to graze the tin\r\nsheeting. Hence the accident. Not my fault, but his. Hark!”\r\n\r\n“Never mind. That clap burst quite loud enough to be heard without\r\nfinger-pointing. Did you hear of the event at Montreal last year? A\r\nservant girl struck at her bed-side with a rosary in her hand; the\r\nbeads being metal. Does your beat extend into the Canadas?”\r\n\r\n“No. And I hear that there, iron rods only are in use. They should have\r\n_mine_, which are copper. Iron is easily fused. Then they draw out the\r\nrod so slender, that it has not body enough to conduct the full\r\nelectric current. The metal melts; the building is destroyed. My copper\r\nrods never act so. Those Canadians are fools. Some of them knob the rod\r\nat the top, which risks a deadly explosion, instead of imperceptibly\r\ncarrying down the current into the earth, as this sort of rod does.\r\n_Mine_ is the only true rod. Look at it. Only one dollar a foot.”\r\n\r\n“This abuse of your own calling in another might make one distrustful\r\nwith respect to yourself.”\r\n\r\n“Hark! The thunder becomes less muttering. It is nearing us, and\r\nnearing the earth, too. Hark! One crammed crash! All the vibrations\r\nmade one by nearness. Another flash. Hold!”\r\n\r\n“What do you?” I said, seeing him now, instantaneously relinquishing\r\nhis staff, lean intently forward towards the window, with his right\r\nfore and middle fingers on his left wrist. But ere the words had well\r\nescaped me, another exclamation escaped him.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG6YGB7Z2K80VSW6KH8Q6MN2","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG6YDDF6PTWG4P7JTS5THSTD","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG6YCG626JN4FCG8QK17CQCF","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG6YHDZ7QSWS9PKG8CJV0J73","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG6YHDZ3M80N0P58XTHGQDWN","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T07:58:01.184Z","ts":"2026-01-30T07:58:06.041Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}