"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 haloes hid her head; The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, For, see, a rainbow spans the sky. The walls are damp, the ditches smell, Clos'd is the light red pimpernel. Hark! how the chairs and tables crack, Old Betty's joints are on the rack; Her corns with shooting pains torment her, And to her bed untimely send her. Loud quack the ducks, the sea-fowls cry, The distant hills are looking 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 sharp he sings! Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, Sits wiping o'er her whisker'd jaws. The smoke from chimneys right ascends; Then spreading back, to earth it bends. The wind unsteady veers around, Or settling in the South is found. Through the clear stream the fishes rise, And nimbly catch th' incautious flies. The glowworms num'rous, clear, and bright, Illum'd the dewy hill last night. At dusk, the squalid toad was seen, Like quadruped, stalk o'er the green. The whirling wind the dust obeys, And in the rapid eddy plays. The frog has chang'd his yellow vest, And in a russet coat is drest. The sky is green, the air is still, The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill. The dog, so altered is his taste, Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast. Behold the rooks, how odd their flight, They imitate the gliding kite, And seem precipitate to fall, As if they felt the piercing ball. The tender colts on banks do lie, Nor heed the traveller passing by. In fiery red the sun doth rise, Then wades through clouds to mount the skies. ''Twill surely rain, we see 't with sorrow, No working in the fields to-morrow.'" The Shepherd of Banbury says:--"The surest and most certain sign of rain is taken from Bees, which are more incommoded by rain than almost any other creatures; and, therefore, as soon as the air begins to grow heavy, and the vapours to condense, they will not fly from their hives, but either remain in them all day, or else fly but to a small distance." Yet Bees are not always right in their prognostics, for Réaumur witnessed a swarm which, after leaving the hive at half-past one o'clock, were overtaken by a heavy shower at three. FISH-TALK.