In these days of telegraphing, and other scientific improvements, we should think it a very uncertain, and rather stupid, way to judge of the weather, to say it was "past ten o'clock on a starry evening," or "a cloudy evening," or "a frosty morning." Now, we have only to pick up the morning paper, and consult "Old Probabilities," who nearly always forecasts truly. But in those times there were no telegraph wires running the length and breadth of the land, and no Signal Service, either, so that the regular cry of the watchman may have been held in high esteem; and, perhaps, the sleepy folk would raise an ear from the pillow to hear the "probabilities" for the coming day, and lie down again to arrange business or pleasure accordingly. A hundred years ago the people of Philadelphia were startled by a famous cry of a watchman at dead of night, making every one who heard it wild with joy. It was just after the battle of Yorktown, the last of the Revolution, when Lord Cornwallis and his army surrendered to Washington. The bearer of the news of victory, entering Philadelphia, stopped an old watchman to ask the way to the State House, where Congress was in session, waiting for news from the army. As soon as the watchman heard the glad tidings, he started off on his rounds, singing out to his monotonous tune the remarkable words-- "Past four o'clock, Cornwallis is taken!" Up flew the windows on all sides, and every ear was strained to catch the joyful sound. The old bell sent forth a glad peal, houses were thrown open and illuminated, and the streets were filled with happy people congratulating one another, paying visits, and drinking toasts; so that, could but one thousand of the seven thousand British soldiers captured that day by Washington have entered the city that night, they might have taken it without a struggle.--Yours very truly, E. A. S. St. James House, King's Lynn, Norfolk, England. DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: A few days ago my brother and I had a little bazaar which I should like to tell you about. We had been collecting and making things for a good long time, so we had nearly forty, most of which we made ourselves, but some were given to us by friends. I copied some of the things out of "A Hundred Christmas Presents," in ST. NICHOLAS for November, 1877. They were very pretty, especially the little wheelbarrow. We had a little refreshment stall with sweets, ginger-snaps, etc., and they sold more quickly than anything. We got L1, 1s., a guinea, which we sent to an orphan institution in London. I like your magazine very much, I do not know which part is the best.--Yours truly, M. Y. GIBSON. Bay Shore, Long Island. DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I lived in Germany over four years, so I know something about it. I should like to tell you about rafts on the Elbe.