On August 19, 1866, at Chaumont, lightning, having played havoc in a house in various ways, espied a pile of plates in a cupboard, china and earthenware plates being mixed, it broke all the china ones, leaving the others untouched.
Why this preference? The lightning does not explain. It is for us to find out.
On May 31, 1903, at Tillieu-sous-Aire (Eure), during a thunderstorm, a number of china plates were filled with a kind of sticky water. The earthenware plates beside them were not even wet. I received a little flask of this water sent me by the parish priest, but analysis revealed nothing unusual.
The following case gives a formal denial to the ancient prejudice which attributes a cabalistic influence to the number thirteen.
There were thirteen people in the dining-room of a house at Langonar while the thunder rumbled outside. Suddenly a flash of lightning struck a plate in the middle of the table, threw dishes, glasses, plates, knives, and forks in all directions—in a word, cleared the table, not forgetting the tablecloth.
None of the thirteen guests were touched.
It sometimes happens, indeed, that glasses or bottles are altogether or partly melted. Boyle gives a very curious instance of the kind.
Two large drinking glasses were side by side on a table. They were exactly alike. Lightning seemed to pass between them, yet neither was broken; one was slightly distorted, however, and the other so much bent by an instantaneous softening that it could hardly stand.
When firearms are struck by lightning, their injuries are often of the most varied kind. Sometimes the wood, particularly of the butt-end, is split, or broken to pieces, the metal parts torn out, or thrown right away.
On July 27, 1721, the meteor struck a sentry-box at Fort Nicolai, Breslau, and pierced the top to get at the sentry and his gun. The barrel was blackened; the butt-end broken and thrown to a distance. The shot had been discharged and pierced the roof of the sentry-box.