s are free from brag and
bluster; but the sham gods fill the sky with portentous signs and
omens. I recall one 5th of March as a day that would have filled the
ancient observers with dreadful forebodings. At ten o'clock the sun
was attended by four extraordinary sun-dogs. A large bright halo
encompassed him, on the top of which the segment of a larger circle
rested, forming a sort of heavy brilliant crown. At the bottom of the
circle, and depending from it, was a mass of soft, glowing,
iridescent vapor. On either side, like fragments of the larger circle,
were two brilliant arcs. Altogether, it was the most portentous
storm-breeding sun I ever beheld. In a dark hemlock wood in a valley,
the owls were hooting ominously, and the crows dismally cawing. Before
night the storm set in, a little sleet and rain of a few hours'
duration, insignificant enough compared with the signs and wonders
that preceded it.

To what extent the birds or animals can foretell the weather is
uncertain. When the swallows are seen hawking very high it is a good
indication; the insects upon which they feed venture up there only in
the most auspicious weather. Yet bees will continue to leave the hive
when a storm is imminent. I am told that one of the most reliable
weather signs they have down in Texas is afforded by the ants. The
ants bring their eggs up out of their underground retreats, and expose
them to the warmth of the sun to be hatched. When they are seen
carrying them in again in great haste, though there be not a cloud in
the sky, your walk or your drive must be postponed: a storm is at
hand. There is a passage in Virgil that is doubtless intended to
embody a similar observation, though none of his translators seem to
have hit its meaning accurately:--

"Saepius et tectis penetralibus extulit ova
Angustum formica terens iter:"

"Often also has the pismire making a narrow road brought forth her
eggs out of the hidden recesses" is the literal translation of old
John Martyn.

"Also the ant, incessantly traveling
The same straight way with the eggs of her hidden store,"

is one of the latest metrical translations. Dryden has it:--

"The careful ant her secret cell forsakes
And drags her eggs along the narrow tracks,"

which comes nearer to the fact. When a storm is coming, Virgil also
makes his swallows skim low about the lake, which agrees with the
observation above.

The critical moments of the day as regards