had never witnessed. And in eighteen
hundred and thirteen, Howard, at Tottenham,
saw, on the south-east horizon, and under a
clear starry sky, some pale summer lightnings,
which proved afterwards to be a violent
storm raging between Calais and Dunkerque.
The question of distant storms, and how
far the reflection of them could be possibly
visible, and whether this sheet or summer
lightning necessarily always argued a distant
storm, was being once discussed at the
philosophical society of Geneva. When the meeting
broke up, the southern horizon was illuminated
with the very form of lightning
under dispute. Some days after, the newspapers
spoke of a violent storm in the Pays
de Vaud, Wurtemberg, and Bavaria; which
seemed conclusive enough as to how far
reflection could be carried, if not as to the
universally uniform character of distant sheet
lightning. For there are, in truth, such
things as thunderless summer lightnings;
lightnings without storms and without
dangers; and as frequent under the tropics
as in our own temperate latitudes. There
is probably, and more than probably, thunder
with these flashes, but at too great a height
from us to be heard. Besides, the higher
the atmosphere, the more rarified it becomes,
and the more rarified the medium, the less
intensity there is of sound; but we can
scarcely imagine that lightnings can be
interchanged without any accompanying report,
or that a certain law of nature can be
contravened, without the intervention of any
higher agency, or the interruption of an
opposing law.

There being lightnings without thunder,
so there are thunders without lightning.
Volney, among many other witnesses of
similar phenomena, speaks of violent
thunderings one morning at Pontchartrain, under
a clear sky, and without lightning; but, in a
quarter of an hour the heavens clouded
thickly over, and a heavy hailstorm fell, the
stones, as big as his fist. The longest thunder-
roll (which seems so interminable to those
who are nervous during storms) lasts only
from thirty-five to fifty seconds; and the space
of time between the roll and the flash varies,
according to distance, from five, four, three,
and even half a second, to forty-two, forty-
seven, forty-nine, and seventy-two seconds.
But the half second interval is very rare, and
only found in storms of the closest and most
violent character. We need scarcely add,
that the nearer a storm, the more dangerous.
Also, the higher the body the more likely it
is to be struck; as, for instance, all
mountains, trees, high buildings, and, in the midst
of a plain, men and animals. Trees, bushes,
and buildings are peculiarly lightning
conductors, and specially liable to be struck.
For this reason it is wise to avoid the
neighbourhood of trees during a storm; not even
trusting to the old poetic legend of the
exemption of all the laurel tribe, for love
of one fair Daphne; nor to Hugh
Maxwell's assertion that the beech, maple,
and birch are anticonductors, like that
classic laurel; nor to Captain Dibdin's
belief in pines; nor, in fact, to any private
or personal favourite among forest-trees or
shrubs; for they are all equally dangerous to
human neighbours during a storm, and
equally powerful conductors; their power
varying only as they are taller or more
humid than their fellows.

Thunderbolts have special attraction to
certain places as well as to certain objects.
No one in New Granada, says Monsieur Arago,
willingly inhabits El Sitio de Tumba Barreto,
near the gold mine of the Vega de Supia,
because of the frequency of thunderbolts
there. Even while Monsieur Boussingault
was crossing El Sitio, the black who guided
him was struck by lightning. La Loma de
Pitago, near Popayan, is another locality of
doubtful electric fame. A young botanist,
Monsieur Plancheman, was determined to
cross La Loma on a stormy day, in spite of
all remonstrances, and was struck dead by a
thunderbolt. On the twenty-ninth of June,
seventeen hundred and sixty-three, a thunderbolt
struck the bell-tower of a certain
church near Laval, and, entering the church,
caused great damage; on the twentieth of
June, seventeen hundred and sixty-four, a
thunderbolt struck the same bell-tower,
entered the church, and melted the same gilding,
blackened the same holy vessels, and in
the very same spot as the preceding year,
made anew two holes which had been filled
up. There is no more striking instance on
record of the uniform action of natural laws
than this. We believe, too, that any inhabitant
of a mountainous district could bear
out our own assertion and observation, that
where once a thunderbolt had been seen to
fall, or forked lightning to strike, there
surely would the same accidents occur
during the worst storms of succeeding years.
We may be certain that there is no such,
thing as chance in nature. Chance is simply
our ignorance which cannot foresee necessary
consequences, because it does not understand
the foregoing laws; there is no such thing
as blind unmeaning hazard, without necessity,
or without law.

Chemical, mechanical, and physical effects,
follow on electrical phenomena; which,
any one may see repeated, on a minute
scale, by an electrical machine. Lightning
melts and vitrifies masses of rock,
sometimes covering them with a yellowish-
green enamel, studded with opaque or semi-
transparent lumps. But it has never been
known to melt any metallic substance of
a certain thickness. Watch-springs, small
chains, points, and parts of swords and
daggers, fine lines or threads of metal, or
thin layers and washes, these have been known
to have been thoroughly melted by a lightning
stroke. Larger masses, heavy chains,