CHAPTER VIII.
common sayings respecting the weather—saint swithin’s-day—signs of rain or of fair weather derived from the appearance of the sun—from that of the moon—from the stars—from the sky—from the distinctness of sounds—from the rising of smoke—from the peculiar actions of plants and animals—prognostics noticed by sir humphrey davy—signs of rain collected by dr. jenner—north american rain-makers—incident related by catlin—rain-doctors of southern africa—rain-doctors of ceylon—superstitions giving way to the teaching of missionaries—conclusion.
There are many proverbial sayings among country people concerning the state of the weather, which, having been derived from long observation, have become axioms, and were designated by Bacon “the philosophy of the people.” These prognostics are being set aside by the more certain lights of science, but there is no doubt that many natural objects may indicate symptoms of change in the atmosphere before any actually takes place in it to such an extent as to affect our senses. Some of
these prognostics are of a general character applying to all seasons, and there are others which apply only to a particular season; but they may all be derived from appearances of the heavenly bodies and of the sky, the state of meteorological instruments, and the notions and habits of certain plants and animals. The author of the “Journal of a Naturalist” has some good observations on this subject. He says:—
“Old simplicities, tokens of winds and weather, and the plain observances of human life, are everywhere waning fast to decay. Some of them may have been fond conceits; but they accorded with the ordinary manners of the common people, and marked times, seasons, and things, with sufficient truth for those who had faith in them. Little as we retain of these obsolete fancies, we have not quite abandoned them all; and there are yet found among our peasants a few, who mark the blooming of the large water-lily (lilium candidum), and think that the number of its blossoms on a stem will indicate the price of wheat by the bushel for the ensuing year, each blossom equivalent to a shilling. We expect a sunny day too, when the pimpernel (anagallis arvensis) fully expands its blossoms; a dubious, or a moist one, when they are closed. In this belief, however, we have the sanction of some antiquity to support us. Sir F. Bacon records it; Gerarde notes it as a common opinion entertained by country people above two centuries ago; and I must not withhold my own faith in its veracity, but say that I believe this pretty little flower to afford more certain indication of dryness or moisture in the air than any of our hygrometers do. But if these be fallible criterions, we will notice another that seldom deceives us. The approach of a sleety snow-storm, following a deceitful gleam in spring, is always announced to us by the loud untuneful voice of the missel-thrush (turdus viscivorus) as it takes its stand on some tall tree, like an enchanter calling up the gale. It seems to have no song, no voice, but this harsh predictive note; and it in great measure ceases with the storms of spring. We hear it occasionally in autumn, but its voice is not then prognostic of any change of weather. The missel-thrush is a wild and wary bird, keeping generally in open fields and commons, heaths and unfrequented places, feeding upon worms and insects. In severe weather it approaches our plantations and shrubberies, to feed on the berry of the mistletoe, the ivy, or the scarlet fruit of the holly or the yew; and, should the redwing or the fieldfare presume to partake of these with it, we are sure to hear its voice in clattering and contention with the intruders, until it drives them from the place, though it watches and attends, notwithstanding, to its own safety.”
But before we notice more in detail the natural prognostics of the weather, it is desirable to speak of a superstition which is widely spread among all classes, in the town as well as in the country. The superstition referred to, is that connected with St. Swithin’s-day, and is well expressed in a Scotch proverb:—
“Saint Swithin’s-day, gif ye do rain,
For forty days it will remain;
Saint Swithin’s-day, an ye be fair,
For forty days ’twill rain nae mair.”
This superstition originated with Swithin, or Swithum, bishop of Winchester, who died in the year 868. He desired that he might be buried in the open churchyard, “where the drops of rain might wet his grave;” “thinking,” says Bishop Hall, “that no vault was so good to cover his grave as that of heaven.” But when Swithin was canonized