seldom deceives us. The
approach of a sleety snow-storm, following a deceitful gleam in
spring, is always announced to us by the loud untuneful voice of the
missel-thrush (_turdus viscivorus_) as it takes its stand on some
tall tree, like an enchanter calling up the gale. It seems to have
no song, no voice, but this harsh predictive note; and it in great
measure ceases with the storms of spring. We hear it occasionally in
autumn, but its voice is not then prognostic of any change of
weather. The missel-thrush is a wild and wary bird, keeping
generally in open fields and commons, heaths and unfrequented places,
feeding upon worms and insects. In severe weather it approaches our
plantations and shrubberies, to feed on the berry of the mistletoe,
the ivy, or the scarlet fruit of the holly or the yew; and, should
the redwing or the fieldfare presume to partake of these with it, we
are sure to hear its voice in clattering and contention with the
intruders, until it drives them from the place, though it watches and
attends, notwithstanding, to its own safety."

But before we notice more in detail the natural prognostics of the
weather, it is desirable to speak of a superstition which is widely
spread among all classes, in the town as well as in the country. The
superstition referred to, is that connected with St. Swithin's-day, and
is well expressed in a Scotch proverb:--

"Saint Swithin's-day, gif ye do rain,
For forty days it will remain;
Saint Swithin's-day, an ye be fair,
For forty days 'twill rain nae mair."

This superstition originated with Swithin, or Swithum, bishop of
Winchester, who died in the year 868. He desired that he might be buried
in the open churchyard, "where the drops of rain might wet his grave;"
"thinking," says Bishop Hall, "that no vault was so good to cover his
grave as that of heaven." But when Swithin was canonized the monks
resolved to remove his body into the choir of the church. According to
tradition, this was to have been done on the 15th of July; but it rained
so violently for forty days that the design was abandoned. Mr. Howard
remarks, that the tradition is so far valuable, as it proves that the
summers in the southern part of our island were subject, a thousand years
ago, to occasional heavy rains, in the same way as at present. This
accurate observer has endeavoured to ascertain how far the popular