is near!"
"I am bound to understand it,"
Says one self-proud speckle-side;
"When I see the danger's real,
Then, if need be, I can hide."

So he waits alone and watches,
Sees the shadow pass again,
Sees a fly drop on the water,--
Dashes at it, might and main.
"Missed it! Well," he says, "I never!
That's the worst jump made to-day!
Here another comes--now for it!"
Splash! He's in the air--to stay!
When the alders cease to tremble,
Silence comes and sun-glints shine,
Mistress Salmo Fontinalis
Calls the roll,--just thirty-nine!

[Footnote A: Brook-trout.]

[Illustration]

HOW THE WEATHER IS FORETOLD.

BY JAMES H. FLINT.

In former times, the chief herald of the weather was the almanac, which
ambitiously prophesied a whole year of cold and heat, wet and dry,
dividing up the kinds of weather quite impartially, if not always
correctly.

But the almanac, good as it was now and then, and the weather-wise
farmers, correct as sometimes they might have been, were not always
able to impart exact information to the country; and they have been
thrown quite into the shade of late, by one who is popularly known
under the somewhat disrespectful title of "Old Prob," or "Old
Probabilities." He has become the Herald of the Weather to the sailor,
near the rocky, dangerous coasts; to the farmer, watching his crops,
and waiting for good days to store them; to the traveler, anxious to
pursue his journey under fair skies; and to the girls and boys who want
to know, before they start to the woods for a picnic, what are the
"probabilities" as to rain.

Every one who reads the daily paper is familiar with the "Weather
Record," issued from the "War Department, office of the Chief Signal
Officer," at Washington. These reports give, first, a general statement
of what the weather has been, for the past twenty-four hours, all over
the country, from Maine to California, and from the Lakes to the South
Atlantic States; and then the "Probabilities," or "Indications," for
the next twenty-four hours, over this same broad territory. The annual
reports of the Chief Signal Officer show that in only comparatively few
instances do these daily predictions fail of fulfillment.

The reason these prophecies are so true is a simple and yet a wonderful
one. The weather itself tells the observer what it is going to do, some
time in advance, and the telegraph sends the news all over the country,