a small test jar filled with my product.
Capital! The candle lights with a little explosion and burns with
extraordinary brilliancy. It is oxygen right enough.

The moment is a solemn one. My audience is astounded and so am I, but
more at my own success than at the relighted candle. A puff of vainglory
rises to my brow; I feel the fire of enthusiasm run through my veins.
But I say nothing of these inner sensations. Before the boys' eyes, the
master must appear an old hand at the things he teaches. What would the
young rascals think of me if I allowed them to suspect my surprise,
if they knew that I myself am beholding the marvelous subject of
my demonstration for the first time in my life? I should lose their
confidence, I should sink to the level of a mere pupil.

Sursum corda! Let us go on as if chemistry were a familiar thing to me.
It is the turn of the steel ribbon, an old watch spring rolled corkscrew
fashion and furnished with a bit of tinder. With this simple lighted
bait, the steel should take fire in a jar filled with my gas. And it
does burn; it becomes a splendid firework, with cracklings and a blaze
of sparks and a cloud of rust that tarnishes the jar. From the end of
the fiery coil a red drop breaks off at intervals, shoots quivering
through the layer of water left at the bottom of the vessel and embeds
itself in the glass which has suddenly grown soft. This metallic tear,
with its indomitable heat, makes every one of us shudder. All stamp and
cheer and applaud. The timid ones place their hands before their faces
and dare not look except through their fingers. My audience exults; and
I myself triumph. Ha, my friends, isn't it grand, this chemistry!

All of us have red letter days in our lives. Some, the practical men,
have been successful in business; they have made money and hold their
heads high in consequence. Others, the thinkers, have gained ideas;
they have opened a new account in the ledger of nature and they silently
taste the hallowed joys of truth. One of my great days was that of my
first acquaintance with oxygen. On that day, when my class was over and
all the materials put back in their place, I felt myself grow several
inches taller. An untrained workman, I had shown, with complete success,
that which was unknown to me a couple of hours before. No accident
whatever, not even the least stain of acid.

It is, therefore, not so difficult nor so dangerous as the pitiful
finish of the Saint Mar