a period, it has not been found by experience, that places within the reach of such blessed sound are safer than others where it is never heard, but that, on the contrary, the lightning seems to strike steeples by choice, and at the very time the bells are ringing, yet still they continue to bless the new bells, and jangle the old ones whenever it thunders.’ ‘One would think,’ continues Dr. Franklin, with exquisite humour, ‘that it was now time to try some other trick. Ours is recommended, whatever the able French philosopher may say to the contrary, by more than twelve years’ experience, during which, among the great number of houses furnished with iron rods in North America, not one so guarded has been materially hurt by lightning, and many have been evidently preserved by their means; while a number of houses, churches, barns, ships, &c., in different places, unprovided with rods, have been struck and greatly damaged, demolished, or burnt. Probably, the vestries of English churches are not generally well acquainted with these facts; otherwise, since as good Protestants they have no faith in the blessing of bells, they would be less excusable in not providing this other security for their respective churches, and for the good people that may happen to be assembled in them during a tempest, especially as these buildings, from their greater height, are more exposed to the stroke of lightning than our common dwellings.’ While Franklin thus wrote of ‘the great number of houses furnished with iron rods in North America,’ there was not a single public building so protected in England. Several private persons had adopted them for their houses, following the example of Dr. William Watson--subsequently Sir William--vice-president of the Royal Society, who had been the first to set up a lightning conductor in England, erecting one over his cottage at Payneshill, near London, in 1762. But notwithstanding the evident utility of the ‘Franklin rods,’ they were refused where they were most wanted--for larger buildings, and particularly for churches. The ‘unlearned men, such as commonly compose our church vestries,’ openly declared against them, and among the clergy there was a steady, if often silent, antagonism to their introduction. The first movement towards its being upset was given by an occurrence which caused much commotion, and gave rise to a vast amount of discussion. On Sunday, June 18, 1764, a few minutes before three in the afternoon, the splendid steeple of St. Bride’s Church, in the city of London, one of the architectural monuments of Sir Christopher Wren, was struck by lightning, the flash being intensely vivid, blinding several people. The damage done was so serious that about ninety feet of the steeple had to be taken down entirely, while great and expensive repairs were required for the rest. Dr. Watson, as the first introducer, so one of the chief promoters of Franklin’s invention in England, took