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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
43
"Say
a
million,"
said
the
other
thinker,
encouragingly.
"Yes,
a
million,
or
possibly
a
billion
...
but
at
any
rate,
ever
so
many
of
them."
"Is
it
possible?"
said
the
other.
"But
really,
you
know
there
are
wonderful
things
in
the
world.
Now,
coal
...
take
coal...."
"Very,
good,"
said
his
friend,
"let
us
take
coal,"
settling
back
in
his
seat
with
the
air
of
an
intellect
about
to
feed
itself.
"Do
you
know
that
every
ton
of
coal
burnt
in
an
engine
will
drag
a
train
of
cars
as
long
as
...
I
forget
the
exact
length,
but
say
a
train
of
cars
of
such
and
such
a
length,
and
weighing,
say
so
much
...
from
...
from
...
hum!
for
the
moment
the
exact
distance
escapes
me
...
drag
it
from...."
"From
here
to
the
moon,"
suggested
the
other.
"Ah,
very
likely;
yes,
from
here
to
the
moon.
Wonderful,
isn't
it?"
"But
the
most
stupendous
calculation
of
all,
sir,
is
in
regard
to
the
distance
from
the
earth
to
the
sun.
Positively,
sir,
a
cannon-ball--er--fired
at
the
sun...."
"Fired
at
the
sun,"
nodded
the
other,
approvingly,
as
if
he
had
often
seen
it
done.
"And
travelling
at
the
rate
of
...
of...."
"Of
three
cents
a
mile,"
hinted
the
listener.
"No,
no,
you
misunderstand
me,--but
travelling
at
a
fearful
rate,
simply
fearful,
sir,
would
take
a
hundred
million--no,
a
hundred
billion--in
short
would
take
a
scandalously
long
time
in
getting
there--"
At
this
point
I
could
stand
no
more.
I
interrupted--"Provided
it
were
fired
from
Philadelphia,"
I
said,
and
passed
into
the
smoking-car.
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