"Science," said the Observer, "is a great thing and applicable to
almost every line of endeavor. You can kill people in a scientific
manner--witness the late Madame Borgia and others. You can shoe a
horse scientifically, beg scientifically or hypnotize a squalling
infant into innocuous quietude by the aid of science. Marconi has
signalled across the ocean; Santos-Dumont has navigated the air and
Austria has proven her neutrality in the Spanish-American war by
scientific means. But there is one thing which Science cannot tackle
with any degree of success, and that is the weather problem.

"The gift of weather prophecy goes with rheumatism and not with
government appointment. The barometer and the anemometer are not in it
with a touch of gout, a sailor's superstitions or a farmer's instinct,
and, until the Department of Agriculture realizes this, the weather
forecast will have no practical value except as an interesting bit of
fiction.

"I once heard of a man who was 'salivated' in a quicksilver mine,
and who, as a result, turned into a living barometer. If his head was
clear and his feet were heavy, it was a sure sign of rain in Summer or
frost in Winter. If, on the contrary, he seemed depressed mentally and
yearned for exercise, a rise in temperature and fair weather were in
order. He amassed a large fortune in making weather bets, but one day
when the thermometer was down below zero, he stepped on a tack and
all the mercury ran out of his heel. After that he lost all his money
betting with a neighbor who had a rheumatic left joint, and died of
grief in abject poverty.