It used to be supposed, too, that the electric fluid held the lily in particular respect. But here is a note which shows us that the white flower is visited by the burning flashes. During a violent thunderstorm on June 25, 1881, at Montmorin (Haute-Garonne)----But let M. Larroque, who witnessed the curious phenomenon, describe it: "In a clump of lilies in my garden," says he, "I see the highest of them surrounded by a violet glimmer, which formed an aureola round the corolla. This glimmer lasted for eight or ten seconds. As soon as it disappeared, I went close to the lily, which, to my great surprise, I found had been deprived of its pollen, while the surrounding flowers were laden with it. So the electric fluid must have scattered or carried off the pollen." When Jupiter thunders, he still seems to dominate our world, as in the days when the graceful legends of mythology flourished. And not only does he work above ground, but, contrary to the belief of the ancients, his influence extends beneath the soil. A great number of men were working in the mines at Himmelsfurth on July 5, 1755. They were, as often happens, working at various points along the vein of metal, and never dreaming of the events which might take place on the surface of the ground. All at once they were conscious of several very violent shocks, given in the oddest and most extravagant fashion. Some felt the shock in their backs, while their neighbours received them on their arms or legs. They might have been shaken by a mysterious invisible hand, stretching now up from below, now from above, now from the sides of the galleries. One of the miners found himself hurled against the wall, two others, whose backs were turned, almost came to blows, each believing that his mate had thumped him. The real culprit was the thunder, of whom they might well demand an explanation of these strange proceedings. Here is another example which bears out the foregoing:-- On the 25th of May, the watchman on guard at the pit mouth of one of the principal mines at Freyberg, perceived an electric glimmer run along the wire rope going to the bottom of the mines, and used by the miners to exchange signals with the men employed in working the lifts. Suddenly all the pits were brilliantly lit up. At the same moment the watchman saw a clear vivid flame shoot out at the other end of the chain. On this occasion the lightning behaved with due discretion, and shone through the mine without giving any one the slightest shock. In vain the monster Tiberius, and the infamous Caligula, sought a subterranean refuge from lightning. Their impure consciences, laden with crimes, dreaded the chastisement of heaven. By fleeing from the lightning flash, they believed themselves saved from death. Lightning dogs our footsteps, and works even when the criminals believe themselves in safety. It is conceivable that the ancients should have dreaded it as an instrument of celestial justice.