How, one asks, can this truly formidable fusion take place during the swift passage of the electric spark, which disappears, it may well be said, "with lightning speed."
What magic force gives the fiery bolt from the sky the power to transform the atmosphere into a veritable forge, in which kilos of metal are melted in the thousandth part of a second!
Great leaden pipes melt like a lump of sugar in a glass of water, letting the contents escape.
In Paris, June 19, 1903, lightning broke tempestuously into a kitchen, and, melting the gaspipes, set fire to the place.
On another occasion, the meteor breaking into the workshop of a locksmith, files and other tools hanging from a rack on the wall were soldered to the nails with which the iron ferrules of their handles came in contact, and were with difficulty pulled apart.
A house at Dorking, Sussex, received a visit from lightning on July 16, 1750. Nails, bolts, and divers small objects were soldered together in groups of six, seven, eight, or ten, just as if they had been thrown into a crucible.
"Money melts, leaving the purse uninjured," says Seneca. "The sword-blade liquifies, while the scabbard remains intact. The iron in the javelin runs down the handle, which is none the worse."
We could add other examples, quite as unheard of, as those enumerated by the preceptor of Nero.
A hat-wire melted into nothing, though the paper in which it was wrapped was not burnt.
Knives and forks were melted without the least injury being done to the linen which enveloped them, by the presence of the fluid.