To us in the country the weather makes so much difference that we are always ready to prophesy about it. There are various methods of prophecy; my own being of the subjective kind, by which you predict that sort of weather which you dread or desire. This method might be improved by some observation of phenomena. Bettesworth, for his part, observes closely; but he appears to observe the wrong things. At any rate, his traditional weather-lore is as untrustworthy as my own newly-manufactured method. We both failed signally one Christmas-time, when I was fearing snow.

Said Bettesworth, “There's a change o' some sort goin' on, sir. Down there at home, all the pigs be a-gallopin' round the sties and barkin' like dogs. I went an' looked at my two dinnertime. They was a-barkin'—a reg'lar bark it is, hwuh! hwuh! jest like a dog: an' then they went round after one another! … I says, ‘Goo it agen, lads! There en't no fear o' your gettin' the cramp all the time as you can gallop.’”

Said I, “I saw two little pigs in their sty up the lane here the other day, in and out and round about ….”