traction of the sun and moon, of interest: It is confirmed by the experience of many years' observation, and will follow the moon's entrance into any of her quarters. Though calculated for England, it will be found applicable for other localities. If the moon changes at 12 o'clock M., the weather immediately afterward will be very rainy, if in summer, and there will be rain and snow in winter. If between 2 and 4 P.M., changeable in summer, fair and mild in winter. Between 4 and 6 o'clock P.M., fair in both summer and winter. Between 6 and 10 o'clock A.M., in summer fair, if the wind is north-east; rainy, if south or south-west. In winter fair and frosty, if the wind is north or north-west; rainy if south or south-west. Between 10 and 12 o'clock A.M., fair in summer and frosty in winter. Between 12 at night and 2 o'clock A. M., fair in summer and frosty in winter, unless the wind is from the south or south-west. Between 2 and 4 o'clock A.M., cold and showery in summer, and snow and storm in winter. Between 4 and 6 o'clock A.M., rainy both in winter and summer. Between 6 and 8 o'clock A. M., wind and rain in summer, and stormy in winter. Between 8 and 10 o'clock A.M., changeable in summer; rain with a westerly and snow with an easterly wind in winter. Between 10 and 12 o'clock A.M., showery in summer, and cold and windy in winter."

WEATHER WISDOM.

The laws of storms, up to a certain point, have come to be pretty well understood, but there is yet no science of the weather, any more than there is of human nature. There is about as much room for speculation in the one case as in the other. The causes and agencies are subtle and obscure, and we shall, perhaps, have the metaphysics of the subjects before we have the physics.

But as there are persons who can read human nature pretty well, so there are those who can read the weather.

It is a masculine subject, and quite beyond the province of woman. Ask those who spend their time in the open air-the farmer, the sailor, the soldier, the walker; ask the birds, the beasts, the tree toads; they know, if they will only tell. The farmer diagnoses the weather daily, as the doctor a patient; he feels the pulse of the wind, he knows when the clouds have a scurfy tongue, or when the cuticle of the day is feverish and dry or soft and moist. Certain days he calls "weatherbreeders," and they are usually the fairest days in the calendar-all sun and sky. They are too fair; they are suspiciously so. They come in the fall and spring, and always mean mischief. When a day of almost unnatural brightness and clearness in either of these seasons follows immediately after a storm, it is a sure indication that another storm follows close-follows to-morrow. In keeping with this fact is the rule of the barometer, that if the mercury rises very high, the fair weather will not last. It is a high peak that indicates a corresponding depression close at hand. I observed one of these angelic mischief-makers the past October. The second day after a heavy fall of rain was the fairest of the fair-not a speck or film in all the round of the sky.

THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY,

Where have all the clouds and vapors gone to so suddenly? I thought, but knew they were plotting together some where behind the horizon. The sky was a deep ultramarine blue; the air so transparent that distant objects seemed near, and the afternoon shadows were sharp and clear. At night the stars were unusually numerous and bright (a sure sign of an approaching storm). The sky was laid bare, as the tidal wave empties the shore of its water before it heaps it up upon it. A violent storm of wind and rain, the next day, followed this delusive brightness. So the weather, like human nature, may be suspiciously transparent. A saintly day may undo you. A few clouds do not mean rain; but when there are absolutely none, when even the haze and filmy vapors are suppressed or held back, then beware.

Then, the weather-wise know there are two kinds of clouds, rainclouds and wind-clouds, and that the latter are always the most portentious. In summer, they are black as night; they look as if they would blot out the very earth. They raise a great dust, and set things flying and slamming for a moment, and that is all. They are the veritable wind-bags of Æolus. There is somethng in the look of rain-clouds that is unmistakable,—a firm, gray, tightly woven look that makes you remember your umbrella. Not too high, nor too low, not black, nor blue, but the form and hue of wet, unbleached linen. You see the river water in them; they are heavy laden, and move slow. Sometimes they develop what are called "mares' tails,"-small cloud-forms here and there against a heavy background, that look like the stroke of a brush, or the streaming tail of a charger. Sometimes a few under-clouds will be combed and groomed by the winds or other meteoric agencies at work, as if for a race. I have seen coming storms develop well-deîned vertebra,-a long backone of cloud, with the articulations and processes clearly marked. Any of these forms changing, growing, denote rain, because they show unusual agencies at work. The storm is brewing and fermenting. "See those cowlicks," said an old farmer, pointing to certain patches on the clouds; "they mean rain." Another time, he said the clouds were "making bag," had growing udders, and that it would rain before night, as it did. This reminded me that the Orientals speak of the clouds as cows which the winds herd and milk.

In the winter, we see the sun wading in snow. The morning has perhaps been clear, but in the afternoon a bank of gray filmy or cirrus cloud meets him in the west, and he sinks deeper and deeper into it, till, at his going down, his muffled beams are entirely hidden. Then, on the morrow, not

"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,"

but silent as night, the white legions are here.

The old signs seldom fail,- -a red and angry sunrise, or flushed clouds at evening. Many a hope of rain have I seen dashed by a painted sky at sunset. There is truth in the old couplet, too :

"If it rains before seven,

It will clear before eleven."

Morning rains are usually short-lived. Better wait till ten o'clock. When the clouds are chilled, they turn blue and rise up.

When the fog leaves the mountains, reaching upward, as if afraid of being left behind, the fair weather is near.

Shoddy clouds are of little account, and soon fall to pieces. Have your clouds show a good strong fibre and have them lined,—not with silver, but with other clouds of a finer texture,--and have them wadded. It wants two or three thicknesses to get up a good rain. Especially, unless you have that cloud-mother, that dim, filmy, nebulous mass that has its root in the higher regions of the air, and is the source and backing of all storms, -your rain will be light indeed.-John Burroughs, in Scribner's Monthly.

REMINISCENCE OF 1855-A TERRIBLE SCENE.

The perils attendant on crossing the river have sunk into insignificance compared with former dangers. Victoria Bridge and the Grand Trunk Railway Company afford New York the much required facilities since the completion of the former great work at the close of 1859. We give the following account of an affair which caused much excitement in Montreal when it occurred. It was the 23rd of April (St. George's Day), and the severity of the winter had rendered the clearing of the harbor somewhat a difficult matter for the spring sun and mild temperature. Passengers for New York in those days crossed the river in ferry-boats in summer and on the ice in winter. About thirty persons, including many ladies, set out to cross on this particular day in April, 1855. Among those whose names are known to us were Dr. Reddy, his wife and infant, with their servant; Mr. Henry Prince, well known in musical circles; Thomas Hood, now Alderman, representing the St. Antoine Ward in the Council; Mr. Silverman, Dr. Crawford, son of the eminent surgeon of that name, and a Mr. Sanderson, with others whose names are not now known to us. The ice was not very good as may be supposed for such a time of the year, and the party were obliged to walk the distance, under the direction of a stalwart voyageur, whose assistants dragged the luggage along in large sleds. It was a bright, warm day, the sky clear and the sun's heat almost unbearable, while the glare of the ice and snow of the river reflected its rays with blinding effect. The party set out for Longueuil, the voyageur leading and probing the ice with a long pole, armed at the end with an iron hook, while he divided his time between masticating tobacco and assuring his followers that there was no danger. Nearly every one had commenced to believe him, and the centre of the river had been reached, when loud, gunlike reports from the direction of the site of Victoria Bridge startled the party. Every one grew alarmed. Still the voyageur assured them there was no danger. But the pace of each quickened, and there was fear at the heartstrings which no one cared to acknowledge to his neighbor. Not a word was said, and in the stillness that followed a cessation of conversation the noise of the breaking ice grew louder. Suddenly the party of travellers became aware that the ice which alone intervened between them and eternity, was on the move. Slowly, trembling at first, but certainly, the mass commenced to move downward, and then, one after another, immense

E

THE AMERAN NEWS COMPANY,

Pubh.

'Agents, New York.

masses were breaking up and piling one over the other. The party acted as if paralyzed for a moment. Suddenly Alderman Hood, who was picking his way along, nearly disappeared through the honeycombed ice, his arms spreading out instinctively preventing him from being carried off. The ladies shrieked ; there was a little scattering of the party; Ald. Hood managed to scramble out, and then it was every man or himself and the ladies. The latter, cool and trusting to the advice of the gentlemen, pressed on towards Longueuil, and piece after piece of ice was abandoned as other huge fragments would tower over the heads of the unfortunate travellers, threatening to engulf them in the chaos into which the ice was being involved. Many mishaps occurred, narrow and providential escapes happened, which the spectator had barely time to notice, ere he was himself called to a sense of impending danger. On towards Longueuil went the travellers, struggling bravely for dear life. But a new danger threatened. The current set from Longueuil to the opposite shore, and finally clear water imposed a barrier between the now completely terrified people and the Longueuil shore. But there was not much time for lamentations. The constant breaking up of the ice on which they stood required vigilance, and the ever-moving ice caused the development of a muscular activity on the part of persons who must have been surprised in looking back to the

scene.

If there was activity and terror among the ice-beleagured party, there was a corresponding feeling of excitement among the friends of persons on shore. The relatives of those who had a few moments before parted with their loved ones, realized to the fullest extent the peril to which the shoving ice exposed them; while, more terrible to think of still, they knew that no human help could reach their endangered friends from the Montreal side, and the groups of scores which in those days were always to be found at the river banks, increased to hundreds. Glasses were levelled, and the progress of the party watched breathlessly. When a man fell into the water, no one saw him pulled out again in the momentary excitement, and rumors were afloat before long that more than half of the thirty or thirty-five persons had been either drowned or crushed in the ice press.

On the Longueuil side alone could help reach the party, and every exertion was made to reach the spot. Ill-conditioned canoes and skiffs were launched and manned, and their progress watched with intense interest. It was a matter of no ordinary difficulty to pull a boat through the water of the bay, covered with floating ice, and strenuous as were the exertions of the boatmen, to the endangered persons on the ice their speed seemed slothful indeed. To those on the ice the suspense was terrible. Already several men had given up the struggle, and drenched to the skin from repeated immersions, refused to make further exertions. Mr. Sanderson became so terror-stricken at the surroundings that he became perfectly helpless, and in a few moments took a fit from which he gradually sank until he died. With his dead body, the almost inanimate forms of others who had been with difficulty rescued from the water, the scene when the first boat from Longueuil reached the ice field, was indeed appalling.

At last the prayed for boats arrived, and the dangerous work of embarking commenced. The ladies first, and then the helpless and half-drowned men, with Mr. Sanderson's body, were safely placed in the dug-out, and the boat commenced the return trip, laden almost to her gunwale. Alderman Hood was the last man off the ice, and had a swim for life before he managed to embark. The passengers safe, baggage was next looked up, and save a trunk belonging to Dr. Reddy and an overcoat of Alderman Hood's, all were saved, Mr. Sanderson's death being the only serious casuality recorded. This, after spending about an hour on the breaking ice--jumping from one piece to the other as each mass swayed and tossed in the flood.-Montreal Witness.

On March 25th, 1825, a steamer arrived in Montreal from Boucherville.

NOVEL BAROMETERS.

There are two animated barometers in Sacramento, Cal., that have proved trustworthy, even where artificial instruments have failed. One of them is a catfish, which is kept in a water-trough. No matter how clear the weather may be, this fish always, before a storm, makes it a point to swim about with his head below the water and his tail above. When the rain begins to fall he goes out of sight until the weather changes. The other is a couple of frogs under the floor of the police office, which have never yet been seen by any of the officers, but who presage a storm several hours in advance of the barometrical indications, by a series of peculiarly discordant croaks. No matter how clear and bright the night, the police officers then make it a point to prepare for a storm, and the warning has never proved in vain.

THE AMER'AN NEWS COMPANY,

Publ

'Agents, New York,