A WATERSPOUT. 143

« But it isn’t anything of that kind,” Miss Dunham said,
positively. “I remember how thoroughly frightened I
was at the first composant I saw, and father insisted on
my studying the subject ; consequently, I ought to be con-
versant with it, for I read of nothing else for a week.”

«Well, what did you make them out to be?” Ben
asked. ‘I’ve heard as many different versions as I have
seen sailors.”

“Tt is evidently of the same nature as the light caused
by electricity, passing off from points connected with the
electrical machine. You never see them unless the air is
heavily charged with electricity. Sailors in the olden
times believed that these balls of light on the spars of
their vessels were signs that they had nothing to fear
from the storm, and hailed their appearance with delight
instead of terror, as some of the mariners do nowadays.”

“Then you are quite certain they are no relation to
phosphorescence ?””

“Oh, that is beyond question. The sea is more often
luminous in fair weather than foul, while St. Elmo’s fire
is never seen except when there is a storm gathering.”

“T never took any stock in the supérstitions of the
sailors; but there is certainly something uncanny looking
about those balls of light dancing back and forth without
any apparent cause.”

There was very little opportunity for extended conver-
sation. Although the evening had promised so fair,
while Miss Dunham was describing to Ben a form of
phosphorescence she had once seen, which caused the