have found that man may see and mark the weather of the holy Christmas night, how the whole year after shall be in his making and doing, and they shall speak on this wise. When on the Christmas night and evening it is very fair and clear weather, and is without wind and without rain, then it is a token that this year will be plenty of wine and fruit. But if the contrariwise, foul weather and windy, so shall it be very scant of wine and fruit. But if the wind arise at the rising of the sun, then it betokeneth great dearth among beasts and cattle this year. But if the wind arise at the going down of the same, then it signifieth death to come among kings and other great lords." We do not suppose that anyone nowadays attends to such Yule-tide auguries, but there are not wanting those who have a lingering belief in the power of Candlemas and St. Swithin's Day to foretell the sort of weather to be expected in the immediate future. Witches were believed to be able to raise the wind at their pleasure. In a confession made at Auldearn in Nairnshire, in the year 1662, certain women, accused of sorcery, said, "When we raise the wind we take a rag of cloth and wet it in water, and we take a beetle and knock the rag on a stone, and we say thrice over-- 'I knock this rag upon this stane, To raise the wind in the devil's name. It shall not lie until I please again!'" When the wind was to be allayed the rag was dried. About 1670 an attempt was made to drain some two thousand acres of land belonging to the estate of Dun in Forfarshire. The Dronner's, i.e., Drainer's Dyke--remains of which are still to be seen behind the Montrose Infirmary--was built in connection with the scheme. But the work was destroyed by a terrible storm, caused, it was believed, by a certain Meggie Cowie--the last to be burned for witchcraft in the district. About eighty years before, a notable witch-trial in the time of James VI. had to do with the raising of a storm. A certain woman, Agnes Sampson, residing in Haddingtonshire, confessed that she belonged to a company of two hundred witches, and that they were all in the habit of sailing along the coast in sieves to meet the devil at the kirk of North Berwick. After one of these interviews the woman took a cat and christened it, and, after fixing to it parts of a dead man's body, threw the creature into the sea in presence of the other witches. The king, who was then returning from Denmark with his bride, was delayed by contrary winds, and such a tempest arose in the Firth of Forth that a vessel, containing valuable gifts for the queen on her arrival, sank between Burntisland and Leith. The Rev. T. F. Thiselton Dyer makes the suggestion in his "Folklore of Shakespeare," that it was probably to these contrary winds that the author of "Macbeth" alludes when he makes the witch say-- "Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost."