The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers (Complete‪)‬

Near the centre of this village in the valley, my boy, and a little back from its principal road, stood the residence of my worthy sire—and a very pretty residence it was. From the frequent addition of a new upper-room here, a new dormer window there, and an innovating skylight elsewhere, the roof of the mansion had gradually assumed an Alpine variety of juts and peaks somewhat confusing to behold. Local tradition related that, on a certain showery occasion, a streak of lightning was seen to descend upon that roof, skip vaguely about from one peak to another, and finally slink ignominiously down the water-pipe, as though utterly disgusted with its own inability to determine, where there are so many, which peak it should particularly perforate.


Years afterwards, my boy, this strange tale was told me by a venerable chap of the village, and I might have believed it, had he not outraged the probability of the meteorological narrative with a sequel.


"And when that streak came down the pipe," says the aged chap, thoughtfully, "it struck a man who was leaning against the house, ran down to his feet, and went into the ground without hurting him a mite!"


With the natural ingenuousness of childhood I closed one eye, my boy, and says I: "Do you mean to tell me, old man, that he was struck by lightning, and yet wasn't hurt?"