“Well, that is a discovery!” exclaimed Mrs. Partington,
smilingly; and she stood with a small pitcher in
her right hand, her left resting upon the table, and her
eyes fixed upon the flame of a glass lamp, that sputtered
a moment and then shot out a light that irradiated every
part of the little kitchen, and revealed the portrait of
Paul upon the wall, and Ike asleep by the fire. She
spoke to herself; it was a way she had; she met with
no contradiction from that quarter. “This is a discovery!
Where is Tom Paine and his gas now, I should like
to know? Here I 've been and filled this lamp up with
water, and it burns just as well as the real ile.”

The experiment was perfectly triumphant; the problem
of light from water was demonstrated; and yet,
with this vast fact revealed to her, Mrs. Partington, with
a modesty equal to that of the great philosopher who
picked up a pocket-ful of rocks on the shore of the
great ocean of truth, smiled with delight at her discovery,
nor once thought of getting out a patent or selling
rights.