Jenner, too, has grouped, in admirably descriptive language, many of the peculiarities exhibited by animals and birds before approaching storms, some of which exhibit foresight, and others not. Perhaps the rooster, who keeps ceaseless watch over his harem, is the most reliable weather-watcher we have. In my earlier days, when it was the practice to keep valuable birds of the kind much longer than it now is, and they had opportunity to become _experienced_, it was interesting to observe how closely they watched the weather. I well remember a venerable chanticleer, who, perched on the tree among his hens, would always foretell the coming storm of the morrow, by sounding forth _in the evening_, and _often_, his defiant note. Such note in the evening was invariable evidence of foul weather. And during the night, their earlier and more frequent crowing is often indicative of it. It is, however, in the earlier part of the day, in doubtful cases, that no inconsiderable reliance may be placed on their sagacity. Often, when a storm is gathering in the forenoon, they will announce it by an almost incessant crowing. The habits of an _experienced_, old-fashioned bird, of this kind, will well repay attention; but I can not answer for the Shanghai and other _fancy breeds_. Jenner says: "The leech disturbed, is newly risen Quite to the summit of his prison." Few have had, or will have, opportunities to observe this, but it is strikingly true. It is difficult to conceive how mere condensation, from an increase of vapor in the atmosphere, should be foreseen by the leech in his watery prison. It is obvious, I think, there is an electric change which reaches him, as it does the whole animal creation, the once broken bones, and the joints of Aunt Betty. Thus much of the philosophy of signs. _The barometer_ is a useful instrument, in connection with observations of the other phenomena. It is especially useful to the sailor, as its indications relative to the winds are much the most certain. But it is not, _alone_, to be relied upon. This is well settled, although the reasons for it have not been understood. Why it should rise sometimes before storms, in opposition to the general rule--or fall at others without rain--or rise occasionally during the heaviest gales, has been a mystery, and impaired the confidence in its accuracy and usefulness even of the class of philosophers of whom Sir George Harvey spoke, in the sentence quoted in the introduction. But, as I have already intimated, it is all very intelligible.