At Perpignan on August 31, 1895, lightning fell on the mountains of Nyer, near Olette. Twenty-five out of a flock of sheep were struck. The shepherd was enveloped by a flash, yet escaped, but the knife he was holding in his hand disappeared--and likewise his dog. Another time it fell on a house at Beaumont (Puy-de-Dôme), flashed through every part of it, blew up the stone staircase, and did considerable damage. It grazed a woman who was sitting with a cup in her hand, but she was not hurt, though the cup was rudely torn out of her hands. In July, 1886, a labourer was in the act of mowing, when lightning coming on unawares, stole his scythe and threw it 10 metres away. The man was not in the least hurt. The following example is truly amazing from this point of view. A woman was busy milking a cow, when suddenly she saw a tongue of fire shoot into the stable and round it, pass between a cow and the wall at a place where there was not more than 30 or 35 centimetres of space, and finally go out of the door without leaving any marks, or hurting any living thing. Very often lightning contents itself with making a frightful hubbub, and breaking any china or glass it may come across. In July, 1886, thunder burst over a house at Langres. It was at breakfast-time. The fluid came down the chimney, which it swept thoroughly, came near the table, ran between the legs of an astounded guest, and then knocked a hole as big as a shilling in the neck of a bottle which was being filled at the pump. Then it took itself off to the courtyard, which it swept clean, and disappeared without hurting any of the witnesses of this strange phenomenon. On August 3, 1898, two women were in the dining-room of their house at Confolens, when lightning broke a pane of glass in the window, and passing within a few metres of them, went through the kitchen, and disappeared through the wall, after having broken several cooking utensils and the mantelpiece into atoms. At Port-de-Bouc, on August 21, 1900, lightning struck the custom house, went into the room of one of the officials, and cut clean in two a china vase, which was on the mantelpiece, without separating the pieces. Several days later, on August 26, the mysterious fluid came to disturb the peaceful repast of two honest labourers. Having taken refuge from the storm in a hut, they had set out their provisions for breakfast. All at once the thunderstorm burst into the humble dining-room, snatched up the bread, cheese, etc., overturned the bottles and other articles, covered everything with straw, as if by a violent gust of wind. The labourers felt nothing but stupefaction. Was not it a veritable farce?