Science and Weather.
"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.
"The only way by which the government may hope to secure competent weather prognostigators is in the establishment of regular training schools for its prophets. The candidate should be examined as to fitness, just as the applicant for a West Point cadetship. He should possess inherited tendencies toward rheumatism as a primary qualification. Then, after serving three years before the mast and putting in an equal period of active labor on a farm, he would be able to turn out correct forecasts with no other apparatus than a set of signal flags, a typewriter and a hektograph.
"It wouldn't be scientific," concluded the Observer, reflectively, "because he couldn't explain his deductions on a basis of dynamic pressure, electrical disturbances, or velocity of air currents. But it would be a safe tip for the city man to get out his umbrella, mackintosh and overshoes and for the farmer to cover up his hay, if the rain flag were seen to float on the weather pole."
"Oh yes! Steve White was a great man," said the Observer, as he chalked his cue and reflectively gazed at the balls, "but he was born in that class. If he hadn't been, Stephen Mallory White would probably have cut no greater figure in the world than any other man.
"Did you ever hear of a man who wasn't born in some country village, 'of poor but honest parents,' amounting to a row of pins? Not on your life! It's the true and only essential of greatness. Yes, there are lots of fellows fixed that way who don't make their mark, but that's because they don't try.
"Everybody knows how Carnegie got his start; didn't Lincoln use to chop wood for a living, and Garfield drive a canal boat team? Wasn't Gould a messenger boy, and General Miles a private? It's a 'cinch,' a 'kismet.' Fate has posted a great big placard over the door to Fame and it says, 'None But Impecunious Young Countrymen Need Apply.'
"That is why I always thought reincarnation was a good scheme. The Theosophists say that every soul must pass through a certain number of experiences, before it can attain perfection. Now, here's a chance for some unfortunate scion of wealth or nobility, who has lived a useless and uneventful life, and wants to do something for his country.
"He can go to some secluded hamlet, inquire as to the probable date of the next birth in the neighborhood, and, when things are in shape, he can blow out the gas some night and wake up the next morning as a new-born babe, with all the elements of greatness strong upon him.
"When this fact becomes generally known, people will donate their funds to charitable institutions and move to the country to raise future presidents, senators and merchant princes; there will be an epidemic of suicide among the idle rich, and the birth-rate of our rural districts will increase a hundredfold; the population of cities will be sadly decimated; waste lands will be cleared and cultivated, as if by magic, and, a generation hence, there will come forth from the agricultural regions a host of young toilers with Destiny's diploma for future greatness in their pockets."
The Observer was so wrapped up in his prophecy that he missed his shot by fully half an inch and put the wrong end of his cigar in his mouth. After carefully wiping the ashes out of his teeth and kicking the proprietor's cat, he resumed:
"I rather got off the subject, and don't want you to put me down as endorsing reincarnation, either, but when I hear a lot of folks talking about what a great man So-and-So was; how he had to get up before daylight to chop wood and feed the stock, in order to get to school on time, I say to myself, 'What Tommyrot! As if Providence didn't have it all fixed for him.'"
"In some ways the average man hasn't the sense of the average horse," said the Observer, taking a shot at the cuspidor and looking thoroughly disgusted. "Horse sense is a brand of intelligence immeasurably above that displayed by human beings under certain conditions. No, I'm not suffering from dyspepsia or gout—I've simply been watching people as they try to pass each other in halls and doorways, and on the street. It's enough to make a man ashamed that he was born a 'Lord of creation.'
"The average horse doesn't need to be guided when he sees another horse coming the other way. He swerves to the right, as naturally as a bull-dog chases a tramp. What does the average man do when he suddenly meets another coming hurriedly in an opposite direction? He places himself squarely in front of him and then begins a series of side-steps, first to one side and then the other, in exact accordance with those of the man he is trying to pass, like the mirror pantomime in Hanlon's Fantasma. Finally, both come to a standstill, facing each other, and one tries to execute a quick flank movement to the left. Just at this moment the other suddenly remembers that he would have avoided all this tomfoolery if he had only kept to the right, and tries to make good on this hypothesis. The result is that they bump into each other violently and begin side-stepping again. After another round or two of Terpsichorean gymnastics one of them breaks through the other's guard and escapes and each continues on his belated way, thinking what an infernal idiot the other is.
"I have known men who gained international renown for their strategy and 'sang froid' on the battlefield; men whose calmness and deliberation have averted many a financial crisis and men whose marvelous executive capacity and keen insight into human affairs have won them great fortunes. I have seen these same men trying to pass other pedestrians in a narrow hallway and act in a way which would make a lunatic ashamed of himself.
"A drummer, who travels for a large Eastern jobbing concern, was once entering the establishment of a firm which always bought heavily from his house. One of the proprietors was just going out. They came together in the doorway, and, before they could pass each other, a rival salesman slipped by and sold the other partner a large bill of goods.
"Congress ought to pass an appropriation for the purpose of teaching people how to pass each other. If the surplus energy and brainwork consumed in this task under present methods were applied to some more useful purpose, a great reform movement would have been inaugurated."