“You mean to say that jar’s full of something,” said Cusack. “Look here, don’t you try to stuff us up. What’s the use of saying it’s full when it’s empty?”
“It’s full of gas, I tell you,” said Philpot. “Don’t you talk till you know.”
This rebuke somewhat silenced the two devotees of science, who, however, continued to regard the jar sceptically and rather contemptuously.
Philpot next dived into a drawer and drew from it a large cork, through which passed a long wire having a small cup at the lower end.
“Now look out,” he said.
He proceeded to shovel the small piece of phosphorus into the little cup under the cork, and drawing it out of the water, applied a light. The phosphorus lit up immediately, and at the same instant he slipped the glass plate off the mouth of the oxygen jar, and clapped the cork, with the wire and cup hanging down from it, in its place. The effect was magical. The moment the phosphorus was introduced into the oxygen it flared up with a brilliancy that perfectly dazzled the spectators, and made the entire jar look like one mass of light.
The two pupils were delighted; Philpot was complacently triumphant; when all of a sudden there was a loud report, the illumination suddenly ceased, and the jar, broken to pieces, collapsed.
Pilbury and Cusack, who at the first alarm had retreated somewhat suddenly to the door, returned as soon as they perceived there was no danger, and were profuse in their praises of the experiment and the experimenter.
“Awfully prime, that was!” cried Cusack; “wasn’t it, Pil?”
“Stunning!” said Pilbury.