"The age of miracles has passed, Hugh," remarked Thad skeptically. "Not the miracles that are brought about by a complete change of heart on the part of someone the world looks down on as a scamp," Hugh persisted. "But you're one of those who want to be shown; I reckon, Thad, your folks must have come from Missouri, didn't they?" "Wrong again, Hugh, because none of them ever saw the Mississippi, though my grandfather fought through the Civil War, and was with Grant when Lee surrendered at Appomattox Court House. But I admit I am a little stubborn, and prejudiced. It runs in the blood, I suppose. The Stevens were always sort of pig-headed." "I've also heard considerable about the deacon as a weather seer, Thad; how about that? Does he manage to hit it off occasionally, so as to equal our forecaster at Washington, whose predictions come true every now and then?" "Oh! the deacon has made that quite a fad," he was told by the obliging Thad. "He doesn't confine himself to figuring out just what sort of day we'll have to-morrow, or even for the coming week. He looks ahead, and finds out from the signs of Nature what sort of winter or summer we're going to have next,--cold, mild, hot, cool, dry or rainy. And say, I've heard he hits it nearly every time." "Well, what did he say about this particular winter?" Hugh asked, with renewed interest; for such subjects always gripped his attention, because he believed some of these shrewd countrymen, who watched the weather and observed what was going on all around them, could tell better than any scientific gentleman what was liable to come along during the succeeding seasons. "He predicted a severe winter," replied Thad promptly. "Some people laughed at what he said, especially when Christmas came and went, and so far we'd had precious little of cold. But it's come along at last, and from all reports some of the most dreadful weather ever known is happening away out in the Northwest right now." "And how does the old blacksmith get his ideas--from Nature, you said, I believe, Thad?" "He studies the bark on the trees; the way the squirrels store the nuts away; and how the caterpillars weave their cocoons. Oh! he has a hundred different signs that he depends on before making up his mind. I used to laugh when I heard him talking about it, but since I've grown older I've decided that there may be a whole lot in that sort of weather prediction." "I incline that same way," agreed Hugh. "Many of the little animals of the woods are given a wonderful instinct that enables them to know what to expect. Even bees that always lay by a certain amount of honey for winter use, are said to stock up extra heavy on years when a severe winter comes along. It must be a mighty interesting study, I should think. Some time I mean to know the old deacon better, so as to get posted on his vast store of knowledge along those lines."