Meteoric stones have been known to commit great injury in their fall. In July, 1790, a very bright fire-ball, luminous as the sun, of the size of an ordinary balloon, appeared near Bourdeaux, which, after filling the inhabitants with alarm, burst, and disappeared. A few days after, some peasants brought stones into the town, which they said had fallen from the meteor; but, the philosophers to whom they offered them laughed at their statements. One of these stones, fifteen inches in diameter, broke through the roof of a cottage, and killed a herdsman and a bullock. In 1810, a great stone fell at Shahabad, in India. It burnt a village, and killed several people.

The fall of meteoric stones is more frequent than would be supposed. Chaldni has compiled a Catalogue of all recorded instances from the earliest times. Of these, twenty-seven are previous to the Christian era; thirty-five from the beginning of the first to the end of the fourteenth century; eighty-nine from the beginning of the fifteenth to the beginning of the present century; from which time, since the attention of scientific men has been directed to the subject, above sixty cases have been recorded. These are, doubtless, but a small proportion of the whole amount of meteoric showers which have fallen, when the small extent of surface occupied by those capable of recording the event is compared with the wide expanse of the ocean, the vast uninhabited deserts, mountains, and forests, and the countries occupied by savage nations.

Meteoric stones have generally a broken, irregular surface, coated with a thin black crust, like varnish. When broken, they appear to have been made up of a number of small spherical bodies of a grey colour, imbedded in a gritty substance, and often interspersed with yellow spots. A considerable proportion of iron is found in all of them, partly in a malleable state, partly in that of an oxide, and always in combination with a rather scarce metal called nickel; {181} the earths silica, and magnesia, and sulphur, form the other chief ingredients; but, the earths alumina and lime, the metals manganese, chrome, and cobalt, together with carbon, soda, and water, have also been found in small quantities, but not in the same specimens. No substance with which chemists were previously unacquainted, has ever been found in them; but no combination, similar to that in meteoric stones, has ever been met with in geological formations, or among the products of any volcano. They are sometimes very friable, sometimes very hard; and some that are friable when they first fall, become hard afterwards. When taken up soon after their fall they are extremely hot. They vary in weight from two drams to several hundred pounds. Meteoric stones have fallen in all climates, in every part of the earth, at all seasons, in the night and in the day.

The meteoric stones already noticed, are not the only metallic bodies which are supposed to fall from the sky. In many parts of the earth masses of malleable iron, often of vast size, have been found. An immense mass seen by Pallas, in Siberia, was discovered at a great height on a mountain of slate, near the river Jenesei. The Tartars held it in great veneration, as having fallen from heaven. It was removed in the year 1749, to the town of Krasnojarsk, by the inspector of iron mines. The mass, which weighed about 1,400 pounds, was irregular in form, and cellular, like a sponge. The iron was tough and malleable, and was found to contain nickel, silica, magnesia, sulphur, and chrome. Another enormous mass of meteoric iron was found in South America, about the year 1788. It lay in a vast plain, half sunk in the ground, and was supposed, from its size and the known weight of iron, to contain upwards of thirteen tons. Specimens of this mass are now in the British Museum, and have been found to contain 90 per cent. of iron and 10 of nickel. Many other masses of iron might be mentioned, which, from the places in which they are found, and from their composition, leave no doubt as to their being of meteoric origin. The only instance, on record, of iron having been actually seen to fall from the atmosphere, is that which took place at Agram in Croatia, on the 26th May, 1751. About six o'clock in the evening, the sky being quite clear, a ball of fire was seen, which shot along, with a hollow noise, from west to east, and, after a loud explosion accompanied by a great smoke, two masses of iron fell from it in the form of chains welded together.

It is, perhaps, impossible, in the present state of our knowledge, to account for the origin of these remarkable bodies. Some have supposed them to have been shot out from volcanoes belonging to our earth; but this theory is opposed by the fact that no substance, resembling aerolites, has ever been found in or near any volcano; and they fall from a height to which no volcano can be supposed to have projected them, and still less to have given them the horizontal direction in which they usually move. Another supposition is, that these masses are formed in the atmosphere; but it is almost ridiculous to imagine a body, weighing many tons, to be produced by any chemical or electrical forces in the upper regions of the air. A third explanation is, that they are bodies thrown out by the volcanoes, which are known to exist in the moon, with such force as to bring them within the sphere of the earth's attraction. This notion was supported by the celebrated astronomer and mathematician La Place. He calculated that a body projected from the moon with the velocity of 7771 feet in the first second, would reach our earth in about two days and a half. But other astronomers are of opinion, that the known velocity of some meteors is too great to admit of the possibility of their having come from the moon. The theory which agrees best with known facts and the laws of nature, is that proposed by Chladni, namely, that the meteors are bodies moving in space, either masses of matter as originally created, or fragments separated from a larger mass of a similar nature. This view has also been supported by Sir Humphrey Davy, who says, "The luminous appearances of shooting-stars and meteors cannot be owing to any inflammation of elastic fluids, but must depend upon the ignition of solid bodies. Dr. Halley calculated the height of a meteor at ninety miles; and the great American meteor, which threw down showers of stones, was estimated at seventeen miles high. The velocity of motion of these bodies must, in all cases, be immensely great, and the heat produced by the compression of the most rarefied air from the velocity of motion, must be, probably, sufficient to ignite the mass; and all the phenomena may be explained, if falling stars be supposed to be small bodies moving round the earth in very eccentric orbits, which become ignited only when they pass with immense velocity through the upper region of the atmosphere; and if the meteoric bodies which throw down stones with explosions, be supposed to be similar bodies which contain either combustible or elastic matter."

This chapter ought not to be concluded without a short notice of that remarkable rain known to geologists as "fossil rain." In the new red-sandstone of the Storeton quarries, impressions of the foot-prints of ancient animals have been discovered; and in examining some of the slabs of stone extracted at the depth of above thirty feet, Mr. Cunningham observed "that their under surface was thickly covered with minute hemispherical projections, or casts in relief of circular pits, in the immediately subjacent layers of clay. The origin of these marks, he is of opinion, must be ascribed to showers of rain which fell upon an argillaceous beach exposed by the retiring tide, and their preservation to the filling up of the indentations by sand. On the same slabs are impressions of the feet of small reptiles, which appear to have passed over the clay previously to the shower, since the foot-marks are also indented with circular pits, but to a less degree; and the difference Mr. Cunningham explains by the pressure of the animal having rendered these portions less easily acted upon." The preservation of these marks has been explained by supposing dry sand, drifted by the wind, to have swept over and filled up the footprints, rain-pits, and hollows of every kind, which the soft argillaceous surface had received.

The frontispiece to the present chapter (p. 156), represents a slab of sandstone containing impressions of the foot of a bird and of rain drops. This slab is from a sandstone basin near Turner's Falls, a fine cataract of the Connecticut river in the State of Massachusetts, and is described by Dr. Deane in a recent number of the American Journal of Science. "It is rare," says that gentleman, to "find a stratum containing these footprints exactly as they were made by the animal, without having suffered change. They are usually more or less disturbed or obliterated by the too soft nature of the mud, the coarseness of the materials, and by many other circumstances which we may easily see would deface them, so that although the general form of the foot may be apparent, the minute traces of its appendages are almost invariably lost. In general, except in thick-toed species, we cannot discover the distinct evidences of the structure of the toes, each toe appearing to be formed of a single joint, and seldom terminated by a claw. But, a few specimens hitherto discovered at this locality completely developed the true characters of the foot, its ranks of joints, its claws and integuments. So far as I have seen, the faultless impressions are upon shales of the finest texture with a smooth glossy surface, such as would retain the beautiful impressions of rain drops. This kind of surface containing footmarks is exceedingly rare: I have seen but few detached examples; recently it has been my good fortune to recover a stratum, containing in all more than one hundred most beautiful impressions of the feet of four or five varieties of birds, the entire surface being also pitted by a shower of fossil rain-drops. The slabs are perfectly smooth on the inferior surface, and are about two inches in thickness.

"The impression of a medallion is not more sharp and clear than are most of these imprints, and it may be proper to observe, that this remarkable preservation may be ascribed to the circumstance, that the entire surface of the stratum was incrusted with a layer of micaceous sandstone, adhering so firmly that it would not cleave off, thereby requiring the laborious and skilful application of the chisel. The appearance of this shining layer which is of a gray colour, while the fossil slab is a dark red, seems to carry the probability that it was washed or blown over the latter while in a state of loose sand, thus filling up the foot-prints and rain-drops, and preserving them unchanged until the present day—unchanged in the smallest particular, so far as relates merely to configuration, nothing being obliterated; the precise form of the nails, or claws, and joints, and in the deep impressions of the heel bone, being exquisitely preserved."

The small slab figured at p. 156 is described as being an incomparable specimen. "For purity of impression it is unsurpassed, and the living reality of the rain-drops, the beautiful colour of the stone, its sound texture and lightness, renders it a fit member for any collection of organic remains."

[Picture: Mandan rain-makers]



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 the monks resolved to remove his body into the choir of the church. According to tradition, this was to have been done on the 15th of July; but it rained so violently for forty days that the design was abandoned. Mr. Howard remarks, that the tradition is so far valuable, as it proves that the summers in the southern part of our island were subject, a thousand years ago, to occasional heavy rains, in the same way as at present. This accurate observer has endeavoured to ascertain how far the popular notion is borne out by the fact. In 1807 and 1808, it rained on St. Swithin's-day, and a dry season followed. In 1818 and 1819, it was dry on the 15th, and a very dry season followed. The other summers, occurring between 1807 and 1819, seem to show, "that in a majority of our summers, a showery period which, with some latitude as to time and local circumstances, may be admitted to constitute daily rain for forty days, does come on about the time indicated by the tradition of St. Swithin."

But in these calculations, it is necessary to bear in mind that the change of style has very much interfered with St. Swithin. With the day allowed in the closing year of the last century, St. Swithin's day is how thirteen days earlier in the calendar than it would have been by the old style. Thus the true St. Swithin's-day, according to the tradition, is about the 28th of July, and not the 15th, as set down in the present calendar. There must, therefore, be a considerable difference as to the rains and this day.

We now proceed to collect a number of prognostics connected with the appearances of the heavenly bodies and of the sky; they are the result of long experience, but at the same time it is necessary to caution our readers against attaching much importance to them.

When the sun rises red, wind and rain may be expected during the day; but when he rises unclouded, attended by a scorching heat, cloudiness and perhaps rain will ensue before mid-day. When he rises clouded, with a few grey clouds, they will soon dissipate, and a fine day will follow. When his light is dim, vapour exists in the upper regions of the air, and may be expected to descend shortly after in the form of dense clouds. When his light, after rain, is of a transparent watery hue, rain will soon fall again. When his direct rays have a scorching and weakening effect on the body throughout the greater part of the day, the next day will be cloudy, and perhaps rainy. When the sun is more or less obscured by a thicker or thinner cirro-stratus cloud, and when he is said to be wading in the cloud, rain may come—if the cloud indicates rain it will come. A halo surrounding the disc of the sun is almost always sure to precede rain. A red sunset without clouds indicates a doubt of fair weather; but a fine day may be expected after a red sunset in clouds. A watery sunset, diverging rays of light, either direct from the sun or from behind a cloud, is indicative of rain. After a dull black sunset rain may be expected.

It is a common saying among country people,—

"An evening red, or a morning grey, Doth betoken a bonnie day; In an evening grey and a morning red, Put on your hat, or yell weet your head."

There are not many prognostics connected with the appearances of the moon. The changes of the moon produce greater effects than at any other period. With a clear silvery aspect fair weather may be expected. A pale moon always indicates rain, and a red one wind. Seeing the "old moon in the new one's arms," is a sign of stormy weather. Seeing the new moon very young, "like the paring of a nail," also indicates wet; but when the horns of the new moon are blunt, they indicate rain, and fair weather when sharp. It is truly said:

"In the wane of the moon, A cloudy morning bodes a fair afternoon."

And also

'New moon's mist Never dies of thirst.'

Halos and coronae are oftener seen about the moon than the sun, and they indicate rain.

The stars appearing dim indicate rain. Very few stars seen at one time, when there is no frost, indicate a similar result.

When the sky is of deeply-coloured blue, it indicates rain. If distant objects appear very distinct and near through the air, it indicates rain. When the air feels oppressive to walk in, rain will follow; when it feels light and pleasant, fair weather will continue.

When distant sounds are distinctly heard through the air in a calm day, such as the tolling of bells, barking of dogs, talking of people, waterfalls, or rapids over mill-dams, the air is loaded with vapour, and rain may be expected. The sea is often heard to roar, and loudest at night, as also the noise of a city, when a cloud is seen suspended a very short way above head.

If smoke rise perpendicularly upwards from chimneys in calm weather, fair weather may be expected to continue; but if it fall toward and roll along the ground, not being easily dispersed, rain will ensue.

Many of the above prognostics, as well as some of those relating to animals, are thus noticed by Sir Humphrey Davy, in his "Salmonia, or Days of Fly-fishing." The conversation is between Halieus, a fly-fisher; Poietes, a poet; Physicus, a man of science; and Ornither, a sportsman.

"Poiet. I hope we shall have another good day to-morrow, for the clouds are red in the west.

Phys. I have no doubt of it; for the red has a tint of purple.

Hal. Do you know why this tint portends fine weather?

Phys. The air, when dry, I believe, refracts more red or heating rays; and as dry air is not perfectly transparent, they are again reflected in the horizon. I have generally observed a coppery or yellow sun-set to foretell rain; but, as an indication of wet weather approaching, nothing is more certain than a halo round the moon, which is produced by the precipitated water; and the larger the circle, the nearer the clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall.

Hal. I have often observed that the old proverb is correct—

'A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd's warning; A rainbow at night is the shepherd's delight'

Can you explain this omen?

Phys. A rainbow can only occur when the clouds containing or depositing the rain are opposite the sun,—and in the evening the rainbow is in the east, and in the morning in the west. As, therefore, our heavy rains in this climate are usually brought by the westerly wind, a rainbow in the west indicates that the bad weather is on the road, by the wind, to us; whereas, the rainbow in the east proves that the rain in these clouds is passing from us.

Poiet. I have often observed that when the swallows fly high, fine weather is to be expected or continued; but when they fly low, and close to the ground, rain is almost surely approaching. Can you account for this?

Hal. Swallows follow the flies and gnats, and flies and gnats usually delight in warm strata of air; and as warm air is lighter, and usually moister than cold air, when the warm strata of air are high, there is less chance of moisture being thrown down from them by the mixture with cold air; but when the warm and moist air is close to the surface, it is almost certain that, as the cold air flows down into it, a deposition of water will take place.

Poiet. I have often seen sea-gulls assemble on the land, and have almost always observed that very stormy and rainy weather was approaching. I conclude that these animals, sensible of a current of air approaching from the ocean, retire to the land to shelter themselves from the storm.

Orn. No such thing. The storm is their element, and the little petrel enjoys the heaviest gale; because, living on the smaller sea-insects, he is sure to find his food in the spray of a heavy wave; and you may see him flitting above the edge of the highest surge. I believe that the reason of this migration of sea-gulls, and other sea-birds, to the land, is their security of finding food; and they may be observed, at this time, feeding greedily on the earth-worms and larvae driven out of the ground by severe floods; and the fish on which they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface, and go deeper in storms. The search after food, as we have agreed on a former occasion, is the principal cause why animals change their places. The different tribes of the wading birds always migrate when rain is about to take place; and I remember once, in Italy, having been long waiting, in the end of March, for the arrival of the double snipe in the Campagna of Rome, a great flight appeared on the 3rd of April, and the day after heavy rain set in, which greatly interfered with my sport. The vulture, upon the same principle, follows armies; and I have no doubt that the augury of the ancients was a good deal founded upon the observation of the instincts of birds. There are many superstitions of the vulgar owing to the same source. For anglers, in spring, it is always unlucky to see single magpies,—but two may always be regarded as a favourable omen; and the reason is, that in cold and stormy weather one magpie alone leaves the nest in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs or the young ones; but when two go out together, it is only when the weather is warm and mild, and favourable for fishing.

Poiet. The singular connexions of causes and effects to which you have just referred, makes superstition less to be wondered at, particularly amongst the vulgar; and when two facts, naturally unconnected, have been accidentally coincident, it is not singular that this coincidence should have been observed and registered, and that omens of the most absurd kind should be trusted in. In the west of England, half a century ago, a particular hollow noise on the sea-coast was referred to a spirit or goblin, called Bucca, and was supposed to foretell a shipwreck. The philosopher knows that sound travels much faster than currents in the air; and the sound always foretold the approach of a very heavy storm, which seldom takes place on that wild and rocky coast without a shipwreck on some part of its extensive shores, surrounded by the Atlantic."

Dr. Jenner has collected in the following amusing lines a large number of the natural prognostics of rain. They are said to have been addressed to a lady, who asked the Doctor if he thought it would rain to-morrow.

"The hollow winds begin to blow, The clouds look black, the glass is low; The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep, And spiders from their cobwebs peep: Last night the sun went pale to bed, The moon in halos hid her head: The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, For, see! a rainbow spans the sky: The walls are damp, the ditches smell, Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel; Hark! how the chairs and tables crack; Old Betty's joints are on the rack; Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry, The distant hills are seeming nigh. How restless are the snorting swine,— The busy flies disturb the kine. Low o'er the grass the swallow wings; The cricket, too, how loud it sings: Puss on the hearth with velvet paws, Sits smoothing o'er her whisker'd jaws. Through the clear stream the fishes rise, And nimbly catch the incautious flies: The sheep were seen at early light Cropping the meads with eager bite. Though June, the air is cold and chill; The mellow blackbird's voice is still. The glow-worms, numerous and bright, Illum'd the dewy dell last night. At dusk the squalid toad was seen, Hopping, and crawling o'er the green. The frog has lost his yellow vest, And in a dingy suit is dressed. The leech, disturb'd, is newly risen, Quite to the summit of his prison. The whirling winds the dust obeys, And in the rapid eddy plays; My dog, so alter'd in his taste, Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast; And see yon rooks, how odd their flight! They imitate the gliding kite, Or seem precipitate to fall, As if they felt the piercing ball:— 'Twill surely rain,—I see with sorrow, Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow."

Uncivilized nations often entertain the absurd notion that certain individuals can command the rain whenever they please. Much honour is shown to persons supposed to possess this power, for they are considered as having some mysterious intercourse with heaven. Catlin gives a striking instance of this superstition as it exists among the Mandans of North America. These people raise a great deal of corn; but their harvests are sometimes destroyed by long-continued drought. When threatened with this calamity, the women (who have the care of the patches of corn) implore their lords to intercede for rain; and accordingly the chiefs and doctors assemble to deliberate on the case. When they have decided that it is necessary to produce rain, they wisely delay the matter for as many days as possible; and it is not until further urged by the complaints and entreaties of the women, that they begin to take the usual steps for accomplishing their purpose. At length they assemble in the council-house with all their apparatus about them—with abundance of wild sage and aromatic herbs, to burn before the "Great Spirit." On these occasions the lodge is closed to all except the doctors and some ten or fifteen young men, the latter being the persons to whom the honour of making it rain, or the disgrace of having failed in the attempt, is to belong.

After having witnessed the conjurations of the doctors inside the lodge, these young men are called up by lot, one at a time, to spend a day on the top of the lodge, and to see how far their efforts will avail in producing rain; at the same time the smoke of the burning herbs ascends through a hole in the roof. On one of these occasions, when all the charms were in operation, and when three young men had spent each his day on the lodge in ineffectual efforts to bring rain, and the fourth was engaged alternately addressing the crowd of villagers and the spirits of the air, but in vain, it so happened that the steam-boat "Yellow Stone," made her first trip up the Missouri river, and about noon approached the village of the Mandans. Catlin was a passenger on this boat; and helped to fire a salute of twenty guns of twelve pounds calibre, when they first came in sight of the village, which was at some three or four miles distance. These guns introduced a new sound into the country, which the Mandans naturally enough supposed to be thunder. "The young man upon the lodge, who turned it to good account, was gathering fame in rounds of applause, which were repeated and echoed through the whole village; all eyes were centred upon him—chiefs envied him—mothers' hearts were beating high, whilst they were decorating and leading up their fair daughters to offer him in marriage on his signal success. The medicine-men had left the lodge, and came out to bestow upon him the envied title of 'medicine-man,' or 'doctor,' which he had so deservedly won—wreaths were prepared to decorate his brows, and eagle's plumes and calumets were in readiness for him—his enemies wore on their faces a silent gloom and hatred; and his old sweethearts who had cast him off, gazed intensely upon him, as they glowed with the burning fever of repentance. During all this excitement, Wak-a-dah-ha-hee (or the white buffalo's hair) kept his position, assuming the most commanding and threatening attitudes; brandishing his shield in the direction of the thunder, although there was not a cloud to be seen, until he (poor fellow) being elevated above the rest of the village, espied, to his inexpressible amazement, the steamboat ploughing its way up the windings of the river below, puffing her steam from her pipes, and sending forth the thunder from a twelve-pounder on her deck. 'The white Buffalo's hair' stood motionless, and turned pale; he looked awhile, and turned to the chief and to the multitude, and addressed them with a trembling lip—'My friends, we will get no rain!—there are, you see, no clouds; but my medicine is great—I have brought a thunder-boat! look and see it! the thunder you hear is out of her mouth, and the lightning which you see is on the waters!'

"At this intelligence, the whole village flew to the tops of their wigwams, or to the bank of the river, from whence the steamer was in full view, and ploughing along to their utter dismay and confusion. In this promiscuous throng, chiefs, doctors, women, children, and dogs, were mingled, Wak-a-dah-ha-hee having descended from his high place to mingle with the frightened throng. Dismayed at the approach of so strange and unaccountable an object, the Mandans stood their ground but a few moments; when, by an order of the chiefs, all hands were ensconced within the piquets of their village, and all the warriors armed for desperate self-defence. A few moments brought the boat in front of the village, and all was still and quiet as death; not a Mandan was to be seen upon the banks. The steamer was moored, and three or four of the chiefs soon after walked boldly down the bank, and on to her deck, with a spear in one hand, and a calumet, or pipe of peace in the other. The moment they stepped on board, they met (to their great surprise and joy) their old friend Major Sanford, their agent, which circumstance put an instant end to all their fears."

It was long, however, before the rain-maker could be persuaded to come forward, or to listen to the assurance that his medicine had nothing whatever to do with the arrival of the ship. Unwilling to lose the fame of having produced such a phenomenon, he continued to assert that he knew of its coming, and by his magic had caused it to approach. But he was little regarded in the universal bustle and gossip which was going on respecting the mysteries of the "thunder-boat."

Meanwhile the day passed on, and towards evening a cloud began to rise above the horizon. Wak-a-dah-ha-hee no sooner observed this, than, with shield on his arm and bow in hand, he was again upon the lodge. "Stiffened and braced to the last sinew, he stood with his face and his shield presented to the cloud, and his bow drawn. He drew the eyes of the whole village upon him, as he vaunted forth his superhuman powers; and at the same time commanded the cloud to come nearer, that he might draw down its contents upon their heads and the corn-fields of the Mandans. In this wise he stood, waving his shield over his head, stamping his foot, and frowning as he drew his bow and threatened the heavens, commanding it to rain—his bow was bent, and the arrow drawn to its head, was sent to the cloud, {210} and he exclaimed, 'My friends, it is done! Wak-a-dah-ha-hee's arrow has entered that black cloud, and the Mandans will be wet with the water of the skies!' His predictions were true—in a few moments the cloud was over the village, and the rain fell in torrents. He stood for some time wielding his weapons, and boasting of the efficacy of his medicine to those who had been about him, but were now driven to the shelter of their wigwams; and descended from his high place (in which he had been perfectly drenched) prepared to receive the honours and homage that were due to one so potent in his mysteries; and to receive the style and title of medicine-man." Catlin further informs us, that when the Mandans undertake to make it rain, they always succeed, for their ceremonies never stop until rain begins to fall: and also, that he who has once made it rain never attempts it again; his medicine is undoubted—and on future occasions of the kind he stands aloof, giving an opportunity to other young men who are ambitious to signalize themselves in the same way.

A superstition similar to that of the Mandans prevails also among the Caffers of Southern Africa, and among the natives of Ceylon. The Caffer chiefs, attended by their warriors, proceed with much ceremony, and laden with presents, to the dwelling of the rain-doctor, where a grand feast is held while certain charms are in process. The impostor at length dismisses his guests with a variety of instructions, on the due observance of which the success of their application is to depend. These instructions are generally of the most trifling kind: they are to travel home in perfect silence; or they are not to look back; or they are to compel every one they meet to turn back and go home with them. Should rain happen to fall, the credit is given to the rain-doctor; but should the drought continue, the fault is laid upon the failure of the applicants to fulfil these instructions with sufficient exactness.

Major Forbes gives an account of an old rain-doctor in Ceylon, who had plied a lucrative trade for many years, and at length wished to retire from business. But the people were highly incensed at the idea of losing his services, especially as a most distressing drought was at that time the scourge of the land. So persuaded were they of his powers, that they all agreed, that when required to do so by a whole village, he should be compelled to furnish rain in sufficient quantities; and that if he was insensible to rewards, he should be tormented with thorns or beaten into compliance. In vain did the poor old impostor at length declare the truth, and assure the people that he had no power whatever to make it rain. They treated his words with disdain, and dragged their victim from village to village, inflicting stripes at every halt. Even the chief of the district had determined on having rain by force, if fair means should fail, and ordered the rain-doctor to be taken to the village where rain was most required. On his way thither he was so fortunate as to meet with Major Forbes, who took him under his protection, and probably saved his life, though not without some difficulty, for it so happened that a few slight showers fell near his own village, while all the rest of the neighbourhood was suffering the extremity of drought.

Melancholy indeed is the condition of these poor people; in utter ignorance of the source of all the providential mercies bestowed upon them, and, therefore, made the dupes and credulous followers of knaves and impostors of every kind!

In some cases, however, the missionaries have happily succeeded in opening the eyes of the deluded people to the cheat which is practised on them. One of the most intelligent of the Caffers of Southern Africa, having been led to suspect the integrity of the rain-maker, visited Mr. Shaw, and told him of his determination to have the question set at rest, whether or no the rain-maker could produce rain. He had summoned the rain-maker to meet Mr. Shaw in an open plain, when all the Caffers of the surrounding kraals were to be present to decide the affair. Accordingly, at the appointed time and place, thousands of Caffers from the neighbouring country assembled in their war-dresses. Mr. Shaw, being confronted with a celebrated rain-maker, declared publicly that God alone gave rain; and then offered to present the rain-maker with a team of oxen if he should succeed in making it rain within a certain specified time. This was agreed to; the rain-maker began his ceremonies, which are said to have been well calculated to impose upon an ignorant and superstitious people. The time having expired without any signs of rain, the chief who had called together the meeting asked the rain-maker why he had so long imposed upon them? The rain-maker complained that he had not been paid well enough for his rain; and appealed to all present, whether rain had not always been produced when he had been properly paid. Mr. Shaw then pointed out some half-famished cattle belonging to the rain-maker, which were seen on a neighbouring hill starving for want of pasturage, and remarked, that if he really possessed his boasted skill, he would not have neglected his own interests. To this the rain-maker cleverly replied, "I never found a difficulty in making rain until he (pointing to Mr. Shaw) came among us; but now, no sooner do I collect the clouds, and the rain is about to fall, than immediately there begins a sound of ting, ting, ting, (alluding to the chapel-bell,) which puts the clouds to flight, and prevents the rain from descending on your land." Mr. Shaw was not able to tell what effect this ingenious excuse had upon the majority of the Caffers, but he had the satisfaction of knowing that the intelligent chief, who consulted him on the subject, never bought any more rain.



Already Published in this Series.

I.—THE SNOW STORM. II.—THE FROZEN STREAM. III.—THE RAIN CLOUD.



Shortly will be Published.

IV.—THE DEW DROP. V.—THE THUNDER STORM. VI.—THE TEMPEST.



Footnotes:

{18} Physico-Theology by the Rev. Wm. Derham.

{55} See Frontispiece to this Chapter, p. 36.

{85} See Frontispiece to this Chapter, p. 74.

{133} This plan was brought before the notice of the British Association for the advancement of Science in the year 1840.

{155} Harvey's Meteorology, in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana.

{181} One of the stones which fell at L'Aigle, on being analysed by Thenard, gave—

Silica 46 per cent. Magnesia 10 Iron 45 Nickel 2 Sulphur 5

{210} See Frontispiece to this Chapter, p. 190.

THE END