The _ignis fatuus_ is almost extinct; so much so that Jack-o'-the-Lantern has died out of the village folklore. On one occasion, however, I saw what at a distance seemed a bright light shining in a ditch where two hedges met. Thinking some mischief was going on, I went to the spot, when the light disappeared; but on retiring, after a search which proved that no one was about, it came into view again. A second time I approached, and a second time the light died out. A few nights afterwards it was there again, and must clearly have been some kind of _ignis fatuus_. There was a small quantity of stagnant water in the ditch, and a good deal of rotting wood--branches fallen from trees. One of the most interesting phenomena in connection with the weather seems to me to be the radiation of clouds. It appears to be more commonly visible in the evening, and, when fully developed, there is a low bank on the horizon, roughly arched, from which streamers of cloud trail right across the sky, through the zenith and down to the horizon opposite. Near each horizon these streamers or lines almost touch; overhead they are wider apart--an effect of perspective, I suppose. Often the lines do not stretch so far, hardly to the zenith, where they spread out like a fan. If the sun has gone down, and the cloud chances to be white, these lines greatly resemble the aurora borealis, which takes the same form, and, when pale, can scarcely be distinguished from them, except for the streamers shooting--now extending, now withdrawing--while the cloud streamers only drift slowly. Sometimes there is but one line of cloud, a single streamer stretching right across the sky. So far as I have been able to observe, this radiation is usually followed by wind blowing in a direction parallel to the course of the streamers.