hrough them the telegrams are sucked just as they are
written. The longest tube, from the West Strand, is about two miles,
and each bundle or cylinder of telegrams takes about three minutes to
travel. There are upwards of thirty such tubes, and the suction
business is done by two enormous fifty-horse-power steam-engines in the
basement of our splendid building. There is a third engine, which is
kept ready to work in case of a break-down, or while one of the others
is being repaired."

"Ah! May, wouldn't there be the grand blow-up if you were to burst your
boilers in the basement?" said Phil.

"No doubt there would. But steam is not the only terrible agent at work
in that same basement. If you only saw the electric batteries there
that generate the electricity which enables us up-stairs to send our
messages flying from London to the Land's End or John o' Groat's, or the
heart of Ireland! You must know that a far stronger battery is required
to send messages a long way than a short. Our Battery Inspector told me
the other day that he could not tell exactly the power of all the
batteries united, but he had no doubt it was sufficient to blow the
entire building into the middle of next week. Now you know, Phil, it
would require a pretty severe shock to do that, wouldn't it?
Fortunately the accidental union of all the batteries is impossible.
But you'll see it for yourself soon. And it will make you open your
eyes when you see a room with three miles of shelving, on which are
ranged twenty-two thousand battery-jars."

"My dear," said Miss Lillycrop, with a mild smile, "you will no doubt
wonder at my ignorance, but I don't understand what you mean by a
battery-jar."

"It is a jar, cousin, which contains the substances which produce
electricity."

"Well, well," rejoined Miss Lillycrop, dipping the sugar-spoon into the
slop-bowl in her abstraction, "this world and its affairs is to me a
standing miracle. Of course I must believe that what you say is true,
yet I can no more understand how electricity is made in a jar and sent
flying along a wire for some hundreds of miles with messages to our
friends than I can comprehend how a fly walks on the ceiling without
tumbling off."

"I'm afraid," returned May, "that you would require to study a treatise
on Telegraphy to comprehend that, but no doubt Phil will soon get it so
clearly into his head as to be able to communicate it to you.--You'll go
to the office with me