enormous rents in his trousers and his coat. His cast-iron undershirt
protruded in jagged points from a dozen orifices in his waistcoat. As
the major took him by the leg to haul him out of the _débris_ Partridge
opened his eyes wearily and said,

"Awful clap, wasn't it? You ought to've had lightning-rods on this
building. Struck by lightning, wasn't I?"

[Illustration: BANG!!!]

"You intolerable ass!" exclaimed the major as the clerks and reporters
came rushing in and began to place Partridge on his legs; "it wasn't
lightning. It was that infernal machine that you wanted me to put on
my head. If it had driven you under ground about forty feet, I'd have
been glad, even if it had also demolished the building."

"What! the receiver exploded, did it? Too bad, ain't it? Blamed if I
didn't think she was strong enough to bear twice that pressure. I must
have made a mistake in my calculations, however," said Partridge,
pinning up his clothes and holding his handkerchief to his bloody
nose; "I'll have another one made, and come around to show you the
invention to better advantage."

"If you do, I'll brain you with an inkstand," said the major.

Then Partridge limped out, and the major, abandoning the subject of
resumption, began a fresh editorial upon "The Extraordinary Prevalence
of Idiots at the Present Time."

* * * * *