"Oh, well, that's different. Every one knows a bathtub is perfectly safe, while lightning isn't," declared Jane.
"I see! Then it resolves itself into familiarity with the things you know about—and the danger of lightning is in its elusiveness at being studied and not in its power?" laughed Miss Miller, pleased at the way the girls walked in the trap.
"Mother always closes the doors and windows during a storm and won't let me sit on the porch, either. Why is that?" asked Elena, while the other girls forgot their fear in the interesting discussion under way.
"Some people say that a place might be struck unless tightly closed. I have even heard of folks that refused to have a lamp or light lighted during a storm, for fear the lightning would follow the path of light. But that is sheer nonsense. The only thing that might occur from wide-opened doors and windows is the strong current of wind that would tear along the floor if the draft was strong enough. This might conduct the lightning, especially if the rain blew in with the wind, for water is a great conductor of electricity. Sometimes, the clouds hang very low and the dart might possibly follow the line of least resistance. The notion that it will follow in the pathway of a light, is on the face of it an absurdity, for electricity itself is so much brighter than a pale shaft from a lamp or gas-jet can be, that it would never see the latter. Then, too, it would be allowing electricity to have intelligence to see a pathway of light, and that would be paganism. All intelligence comes from God, the Spirit, and no current of force, or object of material sense can rob Spirit of its prerogative. When we sift out many fears we find them actually based on old superstitions that have in some way been handed down since the days before the Christian Era."
"Miss Miller, why is it that a barn is more often struck than a house in town?" asked Jane, after a short silence.
"I am glad you thought of that, because it is interesting. It is a positive fact that very few accidents by lightning are recorded in large towns or cities. Not because there are no tall buildings or spires for the bolt to follow, but for some unknown reason lightning does not touch thickly populated places but seeks out solitary objects in the country, or on mountains and plains. Probably the farmers know this and that is why almost every dwelling in the country has a lightning-rod at the corners of the roof. Too, I have often thought that the chemicals generated by the cattle that stand in a barn have much to do with attracting electricity. I have even compared cases and find that a barn where the cows or horses are present, is struck and a vacant barn that has not been in use for a time, is left intact."
"Maybe you can tell us why pine trees are struck when the other trees are left without a mark? I have seen pine trees torn and splintered—ten to one of other trees," said Zan.
"Generally, a pine tree grows up straight and tall above its fellows about it. A pine having rosin in its sap should prove a non-conductor for the shaft, so I should say that the cause of its often being a victim to lightning must come from the fact that its spire pierces the low-hanging clouds passing over it and thus letting the electricity out to follow the object that entered the proscribed place. The higher on a mountain-side the pine grows, the oftener you will find one shattered. But I have noticed that other tall trees growing on high places, are as often struck, if the pine is not as tall as the companion trees."
"Miss Miller, who thought of the lightning-rod?" asked Zan.
"Why, my dear, don't you know? I thought every grammar school child remembered our good old Benjamin Franklin for that! He it was who brought it down into subjection for mortals to use. Before that time, people actually believed that God sent it for a warning. In these days, the man we call the Wizard of Electricity, Thomas Edison, has been able to harness it for practical purposes to lighten labour and extend the luxuries of living to mankind."