Where there existed neither wells nor fountains, people were compelled to depend on rain-water, collected and preserved in cisterns.[[1648]] For this purpose troughs were in some farm-houses run along the eaves both of the stables, barns, and sheep-cotes, as well as of the dwelling of the family, while others used only that which ran from the last, the roof of which was kept scrupulously clean. The water was conveyed through wooden pipes[[1649]] to the cisterns, which appear to have been frequently situated in the front court.[[1650]] Bad water they purified in several ways: by casting into it a little coral powder,[[1651]] small linen bags of bruised barley, or a quantity of laurel leaves, or by pouring it into broad tubs and exposing it for a considerable time to the action of the sun and air. When there happened to be about the farms ponds of any magnitude, they introduced into them a number of eels or river crabs, which opened the veins of the earth and destroyed leeches.
A scarcely less important branch of the farmer’s studies was that which related to the weather and the general march of the seasons.[[1652]] Above all things, it behoved him to observe diligently the rising and setting of the sun and moon. He was, likewise, carefully to note the state of the atmosphere at the disappearance of the Pleiades, since it was expected to continue the same until the winter solstice, after which a change sometimes immediately supervened, otherwise there was usually no alteration till the vernal equinox.[[1653]] Another variation then took place in the character of the weather, which afterwards remained fixed till the rising of the Pleiades, undergoing successively fresh mutations at the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox. According to their observations, moreover, a rainy winter[[1654]] was followed by a dry and raw spring, and the contrary; and a snowy winter by a year of abundance. But as nature by no means steadily follows this course, exhibiting many sudden and abrupt fluctuations, it was found necessary to subject her restless phenomena to a more rigid scrutiny, in order that rules might be obtained for foretelling the approach of rain, or tempests, or droughts, or a continuance of fair weather. Of these some, possibly, were founded on imperfect observation or casual coincidences, or a fanciful linking of causes and effects; while others, we cannot doubt, sprang from a practical familiarity with the subtler and more shifting elements of natural philosophy.
As nothing more obviously interests the husbandman than the seasonable arrival and departure of rains, everything connected with them, however remotely, was observed and treasured up with scrupulous accuracy. Of all the circumstances pre-signifying their approach the most certain was supposed to be the aspect of the morning; for if, before sunrise, beds of purpurescent clouds[[1655]] stretched along the verge of the horizon, rain was expected that day, or the day after the morrow. The same augury they drew, though with less confidence, from the appearance of the setting sun,[[1656]] especially if in winter or spring it went down through an accumulation of clouds or with masses of dusky rack on the left. Again, if, on rising, the sun looked pale, dull red, or spotted;[[1657]] or, if, previously, its rays were seen streaming upwards;[[1658]] or, if, immediately afterwards, a long band of clouds extended beneath it, intersecting its descending beams; or if the orient wore a sombre hue; or if piles of sable vapour towered into the welkin; or if the clouds were scattered loosely over the sky like fleeces of wool;[[1659]] or came waving up from the south in long sinuous streaks—the “mares’ tails” of our nautical vocabulary—the husbandman reckoned with certainty upon rain, floods, and tempestuous winds. Among the signs of showers peculiar to the site of Athens may be reckoned these following: if a rampart of white ground-fogs begirt at night the basis of Hymettos; or, if its summits were capped with vapour;[[1660]] or, if troops of mists settled in the hollow of the smaller mount, called the Springless; or, if a single cloud rested on the fane of Zeus at Ægina.[[1661]] The violent roaring of the sea upon the beach was the forerunner of a gale, and they were enabled to conjecture from what quarter it was to blow, by the movements of the waters, which retreated from the shore before a north wind; while, at the approach of the sirocco, they were piled up higher than usual against the cliffs. Elsewhere, in Attica, they supposed wet weather to be foretold by the summits of Eubœa rising clear, sharp, and unusually elevated through a dense floor of exhalations, which, when they mounted and gathered in blowing weather about the peaks of Caphareus,[[1662]] on the eastern shores of the island, presaged an impending storm of five days’ continuance. But here these signs concerned rather the mariner than the husbandman, since the cliffs that stretched along this coast are rugged and precipitous, and the approaches so dangerous that few vessels which are driven on it escape. Scarcely are the crews able to save themselves, unless their bark happen to be extremely light. Another portent of foul weather was the apparition of a circle about the moon, while, by the double reflection of its orb north and south, that luminary appeared to be multiplied into three. At night, also, if the nubecula,[[1663]] called the Manger, in the constellation of the Crab, shone less luminously, it betokened a similar state of the atmosphere. A like inference[[1664]] was drawn when the moon at three days old rose dusky; or, with blunt horns; or, with its rim, or whole disk, red; or blotted with black spots; or encircled by two halos.[[1665]]
The phenomena of thunder and lightning, likewise, instructed the husbandman who was studious in the language of the heavens: thus, when thunder was heard in winter or in the morning, it betokened wind; in the evening or at noon, in summer, rain; when it lightened from every part of the heavens, both. Falling stars[[1666]] likewise denoted wind or rain, originating in that part of the heavens where they appeared.
Among our own rustics the whole philosophy of rainbows has been compressed into a couple of distichs:
A rainbow at night
Is the shepherd’s delight.
A rainbow in the morning
Is the shepherd’s warning.
And upon this subject,[[1667]] the peasants of Hellas had little more to say; their opinion having been that, in proportion to the number of rainbows, would be the fury and continuance of the showers with which they were threatened.