The central office is connected by telegraph with stations in the principal cities of the country, at the sea and lake ports, and at points along the Atlantic and gulf coasts, uniting with stations of the United States Life Saving Service, for it is there that the work of greatest value, the saving of human life, is done. The number of stations is limited only by the amount of money provided by Congress for their maintenance. The top of Pike’s Peak and the summit of Mount Washington both contribute their share of upper air phenomena, and the lowest valleys in the interior give up their secrets of the atmosphere at its greatest depth. What an ocean it is, with its surface which we are told is a certain number of miles above us, and its bottom, which we know is under our feet, its shoreless currents, some as gentle as the breath of an infant, others more fierce and swift than the whirlpool rapids of Niagara. To learn of these currents their force and direction, whence they come and whither they go, the laws to which they are subject, has been the fascinating study of amateur meteorologists and the pursuit of men of professional attainments in science for many years. But their discoveries were of little practical value before Professor Morse, on a May day forty years ago, sent over a telegraph wire between Washington and Baltimore, his first message in the form of a question which since has been answered in wonders by the same agent then employed, and the same now used to send warning of the coming storm, whose swift wings have no other rival.