{"id":"01KG6YHDZ7QSWS9PKG8CJV0J73","cid":"bafkreidry4gjndzdloupuw2coxwq5bzzjeldovjjhoxlqy5givklnmxeka","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5573,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG6YDDF6PTWG4P7JTS5THSTD","start_line":5494,"text":"THE LIGHTNING-ROD MAN.\r\n\r\n\r\nWhat grand irregular thunder, thought I, standing on my hearth-stone\r\namong the Acroceraunian hills, as the scattered bolts boomed overhead,\r\nand crashed down among the valleys, every bolt followed by zigzag\r\nirradiations, and swift slants of sharp rain, which audibly rang, like\r\na charge of spear-points, on my low shingled roof. I suppose, though,\r\nthat the mountains hereabouts break and churn up the thunder, so that\r\nit is far more glorious here than on the plain. Hark!—someone at the\r\ndoor. Who is this that chooses a time of thunder for making calls? And\r\nwhy don’t he, man-fashion, use the knocker, instead of making that\r\ndoleful undertaker’s clatter with his fist against the hollow panel?\r\nBut let him in. Ah, here he comes. “Good day, sir:” an entire stranger.\r\n“Pray be seated.” What is that strange-looking walking-stick he\r\ncarries: “A fine thunder-storm, sir.”\r\n\r\n“Fine?—Awful!”\r\n\r\n“You are wet. Stand here on the hearth before the fire.”\r\n\r\n“Not for worlds!”\r\n\r\nThe stranger still stood in the exact middle of the cottage, where he\r\nhad first planted himself. His singularity impelled a closer scrutiny.\r\nA lean, gloomy figure. Hair dark and lank, mattedly streaked over his\r\nbrow. His sunken pitfalls of eyes were ringed by indigo halos, and\r\nplayed with an innocuous sort of lightning: the gleam without the bolt.\r\nThe whole man was dripping. He stood in a puddle on the bare oak floor:\r\nhis strange walking-stick vertically resting at his side.\r\n\r\nIt was a polished copper rod, four feet long, lengthwise attached to a\r\nneat wooden staff, by insertion into two balls of greenish glass,\r\nringed with copper bands. The metal rod terminated at the top\r\ntripodwise, in three keen tines, brightly gilt. He held the thing by\r\nthe wooden part alone.\r\n\r\n“Sir,” said I, bowing politely, “have I the honor of a visit from that\r\nillustrious god, Jupiter Tonans? So stood he in the Greek statue of\r\nold, grasping the lightning-bolt. If you be he, or his viceroy, I have\r\nto thank you for this noble storm you have brewed among our mountains.\r\nListen: That was a glorious peal. Ah, to a lover of the majestic, it is\r\na good thing to have the Thunderer himself in one’s cottage. The\r\nthunder grows finer for that. But pray be seated. This old\r\nrush-bottomed arm-chair, I grant, is a poor substitute for your\r\nevergreen throne on Olympus; but, condescend to be seated.”\r\n\r\nWhile I thus pleasantly spoke, the stranger eyed me, half in wonder,\r\nand half in a strange sort of horror; but did not move a foot.\r\n\r\n“Do, sir, be seated; you need to be dried ere going forth again.”\r\n\r\nI planted the chair invitingly on the broad hearth, where a little fire\r\nhad been kindled that afternoon to dissipate the dampness, not the\r\ncold; for it was early in the month of September.\r\n\r\nBut without heeding my solicitation, and still standing in the middle\r\nof the floor, the stranger gazed at me portentously and spoke.\r\n\r\n“Sir,” said he, “excuse me; but instead of my accepting your invitation\r\nto be seated on the hearth there, I solemnly warn _you_, that you had\r\nbest accept _mine_, and stand with me in the middle of the room. Good\r\nheavens!” he cried, starting—“there is another of those awful crashes.\r\nI warn you, sir, quit the hearth.”\r\n\r\n“Mr. Jupiter Tonans,” said I, quietly rolling my body on the stone, “I\r\nstand very well here.”\r\n\r\n“Are you so horridly ignorant, then,” he cried, “as not to know, that\r\nby 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","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG6YGB7Z2K80VSW6KH8Q6MN2","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG6YDDF6PTWG4P7JTS5THSTD","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG6YCG626JN4FCG8QK17CQCF","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG6YHDZ0F9AS3165DGS2CM70","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T07:58:01.191Z","ts":"2026-01-30T07:58:05.972Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}