preceding the wind rush the kite would fall. It was not until August 9th that we succeeded in going through a storm with the kite still flying. About 11 a. m. the kite was sent aloft, and it remained aloft until after 10 p. m. From the observatory one can see to the west fifty or more miles, and a thunderstorm came into view just about sunset. The kite was flying steadily, and whenever a finger was held near the kite wire there was a perfect fusillade of sparks. As the darkness increased, the polished metallic and glass surfaces in the large electrometer reflected the sparks, now strong enough to jump across the air gaps, and the incessant sizzling threatened to burn out the instrument. The vividness of the lightning in the west also made it plain that the storm was one of great violence, and as the observatory itself would be jeopardized, one of the four men present proposed to Hargrave Kite. cut the wired string and let the kite go. But even that was easier said than done, for to touch the string was to receive a severe shock. It was necessary, however, to get out of the scrape, and one of the party took the kite string and broke the connection with the electrometer and insulators. While he was in the act of doing this, the others, who by this time were outside the building, saw a flash of lightning to the west of the hill. The observer who was undoing the kite wire did not see this flash. He saw a brilliant flare-up in the electrometer, and at the same instant felt a severe blow across both arms. Notwithstanding, he loosened the wire, and, dropping an end without, it took but a few moments to make it fast on the hillside some distance away from the observatory. There it remained for the rest of the night. A 105-volt incandescent lamp was placed between the end of the kite wire and a wire