l 7 S THE POPULAR SCIENCE MONTHLY. 



at mid-day. While the sun was shining, the lightning fired the electric 

 gun at Newcastle three minutes before its time, casting a slur on the 

 chronometer of the best ship lying in the river ; and then, like a pall, 

 the clouds descended and literally walked through the town. There 

 was no looking iip at the lightning ; it was on a level with the eye. 

 The streets were a deluge, and old people and children and furniture 

 were burled along in the torrent. At the height of the storm, twenty- 

 one flashes were counted in a minute, and the thunder rolled without 

 intermission, only enlivened by a loud discharge as from a sixty-four 

 pounder. Wherever there was a window open, the lightning ran in 

 and out in mad revel. Houses were struck in every direction, and 

 windows of whole streets were smashed, though no one knew whether 

 by the hail or the thunder. Families assembled for prayer, believing 

 they had arrived at the final consummation ; and all who witnessed 

 this storm whether the population, scared out of their wits for many 

 a day, or the fifteen people who were struck by the lightning, or the 

 five who were killed by it (if they could have returned to give their 

 testimony) would have decided the question at the head of this paper, 

 and said, " Electricity is death." 



And yet " electricity is life." It is the very soul of the universe. 

 It permeates all space, surrounds the earth, and is found in every 

 part of it. Its pristine character is by no means what we have above 

 described. It is naturally the most peaceful agent in creation. It 

 is eminently social, and nestles round the form it inhabits. Unlike 

 many human specimens, it never desires to keep all its good to itself, 

 but is ever ready to diffuse its beneficence. It is only in abnormal con- 

 ditions, and in unexpected rencontres, that it displays itself in that 

 brilliant flash and that deafening roar with which its majestic force 

 yields up its great spirit. 



The ocean, for instance, is compounded of water and salt ; one is an 

 electric, the other not. The friction of these causes the phosphorescent 

 appearance so often observed at sea. But, when clouds arise from the 

 ocean and come inland, they are mostly highly charged with electricity, 

 and, being naturally anxious to give up the good things they possess, 

 when they meet clouds not so much electrified, they hand over their 

 surplus commodity, and the deliverance makes the earth and all created 

 things in the neighborhood tremble. Or, if clouds arise from fresh 

 waters, or from land not having much electric fire, the sun himself 

 warms them up in a friendly manner ; and, as they become charged 

 with the vital fluid, and, in a drunken sort of way, stumble against the 

 sides of mountains or against other clouds, the same benignant tendency 

 to part with what they have too much of induces them to give up their 

 vital force, and the fire flashes across the sky, and all creation bows 

 before the artillery of the heavens. And then they weep together 

 over the kindly exchange, though their tears do sometimes swell the 

 rivers and produce a number of catastrophes not originally in the pro- 



