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 suddenly 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 during 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. Where have all the clouds and vapors
gone to so suddenly? was my mute inquiry, but I suspected they were
plotting together somewhere 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, rain-clouds
and wind-clouds, and that the latter are always the most portentous. 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 something in the look of rain-clouds that is
unmistakable,--a firm, gray, tightly woven look that makes you remember