"The bigger they are the more I don't like them, Mr. Bombs. The little ones tire me and the big ones scare me. You know how I screamed when that horrid London Pyro-King sent off his biggest rockets. They looked so dangerous--as though a terrible comet or electric storm were crashing into the earth to destroy it. Is your new piece dangerous, Mr. Bombs?" "Not very, I hope, Miss Adelaide." "You mean that it _is_ a little dangerous, Mr. Bombs. Now I want to know if you don't think there are dangerous things enough in the world without inventing any more?" "I think you are mightily like old Pythagoras, Miss Adelaide." "Why so, Mr. Bombs?" "He was said to be an '_assiduous questioner_', Miss Adelaide." That ended it. He lighted his cigar and went out into the garden. Soon afterwards the Tourbillions began to ascend; and the heavens, at least that portion of them that belonged to Schwarmer Hill, was soon filled with jets and coils of flame and stars of many magnitudes and colors. The spectators appeared to be highly delighted--all except Adelaide. She was growing tired. Her eyes burned, her head ached and she was thinking of going to her room, when suddenly the sky cleared and she heard the voice of Bombs announcing the closing piece--"his new contribution to Pyrotechnic art." He said among other things that he had invented the piece especially for this occasion; that it had as yet no name; that he had left it for the ladies to name--that is, if it proved to be a success, or materialized as he expected it would. Otherwise it might better be nameless; for if it were mentioned at all it would be called "The light that failed." However he would say this much as to its composition and intention. It was intended to be a sort of cross between the girandole and the war-rocket. The girandole proper was getting to be rather monotonous, having been used as the end piece to pyro-spectacles for fifty years or more. He thought it was high time to have a new one. It was also necessary that the new one should be superior to the old one, both in size and splendor of coloring. There was no such thing as going backward in this matter. We might as well talk of the decadence of American institutions or the annihilation of "The Fourth of July."