After a moment of silence he turned to me and said: “I've heard about the three commandments of your house. They're like those of my shop: Take your power off the main shaft—that means truth. Oil your bearings—kindness. Reduce friction as much as possible—happiness. And that reminds me, how is your gentleman?”
The Pearl turned to Mr. McCarthy as he put the query.
“A little more polished,” said the latter. “I think his deportment has improved, an' he can converse upon many subjects or write an elegant letter. He's a little more natural, as ye might say, and has so much else to think of he's kind o' forgot himself. He reads the New York Herald every day, and can hold an argument on politics or religion. He knows all the points in favor of the protection of home industries, an' has learnt every great fact in American history.”
“Except one,” said the Pearl of great price.
“What's that?”
“A new thing discovered by H. M. Pearl, Esq., which is singular an' likewise worthy of your attention.”
The Pearl paused for a moment while he looked at him. “A stream o' power is rushing over those wires,” he went on. “I'll turn it into another channel an' put a brake on it. Then you'll see some actions calculated to produce loud and continued applause.”
He put out his lamp and stepped away in the darkness. I heard the turn of a lever and then the room was flooded with light. We gazed at it with a feeling of awe.
“These are sticks of carbon,” said he, pointing at the centre of the glow. “When the current strikes the carbon it comes into hard sledding; there's the rub, an' the rub makes heat an' the heat gives light, and the light gives history and feelin's of surprise an' happiness in the breast of H. M. Pearl, Esq. Wait until he gets the voltage he needs and he can turn night into day.”
“What do you mean by voltage?” I asked.