Lightning has no respect for old memories. It demolished with a single flash a superb giant whose long branches, laden with perfumed leaves, had given shade to many generations. The splendid tree, which had survived the severity of several centuries, fell beneath the arrow of the pernicious fluid. Such was the fate of an oak near l'Etoile du Grand-Veneur. Struck on the top, its upper branches were violently torn off.... A spiral furrow beginning at the top ended within a metre of the ground. But, wonderful to relate, the whole mass of the tree appeared to have been twisted mightily by a force which worked with so much power that the tree could never regain its original position. The fibre, instead of growing vertically, followed the furrow made by the lightning, and became twisted like a corkscrew. There exist certain singular trees, the fibre of which grows in spiral fashion, and is called twisted wood by carpenters and cabinet-makers. Pines and firs in mountainous countries are fairly often affected in this curious fashion. One can no more account for it than one can define the cause of the curved form of some flashes of lightning. One does not know exactly if they should be attributed to their following the direction taken by the fibre, or whether, on the contrary, the tree had been struck in its infancy by a spiral flash, and, submitting to that influence, continued to grow up corkscrew fashion. It is most probable that the fall of the thunder-ball on the trees in this manner is governed by the laws of electricity. We may even note casually that traces of similar spirals have been remarked on objects as well as on the dead bodies of those struck by lightning, thus preserving the ceraunic likeness of the mortal blow. Other observers, besides, have declared that they saw distinctly the spiral lightning flash through the atmosphere. But these observations would need to be confirmed by photographs of indisputable accuracy. In these circumstances, as in many others, the dark room is worth a hundred human eyes! In some cases the curved furrow turns several times. For instance, in May, 1850, Grebel saw an alder nearly twenty metres high struck by lightning on the right bank of the Elster below Zeitz. On the lower part of its trunk were two spiral bands which had carried away bark and sap-wood, leaving no trace of combustion. The depth and width of the twist are very variable; at times the furrow is deeper in the veined parts than at the edges; again it reaches the core. Two oaks were struck in June, 1742, in the park at Thornden. One was marked with a spiral for a length of forty feet to within a little distance of the ground. The band was five inches wide, but became narrower as it descended, and was finally no more than two inches wide. The wood was incised and even torn in places, but the branches were not hurt. The rest of the bark seemed to have been riddled by small shot.