wind that satisfied the most ardent lover of
atmospheric effects. Hailstones the size of hens'
eggs fell in abundance, broke the windows round
about Heyford, thrashed out the wheat and
barley till scarcely an ear remained in the straw,
killed the poultry and smaller birds, and, for the
quarter of an hour that they lasted, did enough
damage for a lifetime of petty casualties. In
November another hurricane devastated
Holland, and did infinite mischief in all parts of
Germany. At Rotterdam a dyke was broken
down, and the waters, rushing through, drowned
one thousand five hundred and twenty cattle.
The same kind of storm happened fourteen years
after, falling chiefly on Leicestershire, where
hen's-egg hailstones broke windows and thrashed
corn as before; where the lightning scorched
Mr. Simpson's tablecloth at Reasby, blinded a
boy at Nicol's Lodge, killed Thomas Kilby, burnt
a child sleeping in bed in the Royal Oak at
Spalding, overturned the Leicester coach, the
Newcastle coach, and the Paul Jones, and was
pronounced to be the most awful tempest within
the memory of living man. In August, 1816,
there was a tremendous gale from the north-east
along the east coast of England. Ships
foundered by dozens, and all night long distress guns
were heard from every part of the sea.

But this pretty hatful was nothing to the hurricane
that beset Roseau, in Dominica, that same
year, when canes and coffee-trees were destroyed
by acres, and all kinds of grain and vegetables, live
stocks and dead, men and beasts, suffered as they
had never suffered before. Ships were wrecked off
the reefy coasts, and wreckers were not wanting
to plunder the dead, and perhaps murder the
living. One vessel, the Retrieve, had fifty
puncheons of rum on board, which delighted the
wreckers not a little, and led to frightful scenes
of brutality and drunkenness. The barracks at
Prince Rupert's, and elsewhere, were blown to
pieces, and the surf in the bay was so heavy
that it carried away the guard-house on the
beach and the garrison boat. But not many
lives were lost. The storm passed on to Antigua,
and there did a world of mischief. The next
year a dreadful tempest raged through the
Leeward Islands, lasting from the 20th to the 22nd
of September. At the island of St. Thomas
alone one hundred and four vessels were lost,
the only ships in the harbour which rode out the
gale being the Salisbury, two Danish vessels,
and two sloops. The warehouses and buildings
in every plantation of the island were more or
less damaged, and some of them were blown
clean away over the estate; all the fences were
destroyed, standing crops cut down, animals by
the score maimed and killed. The city looked
like a city of the dead, and the harbour like a
floating wreck.

A storm in 1821 wrecked a great many vessels
off Cornwall; in 1822 another storm visited
Ireland, threw down many houses in Dublin,
and unroofed more; and six years after an
awful storm raged on the English coast, and
drove ashore thirteen vessels at Plymouth alone.
A month later, at Gibraltar, more than a hundred
vessels were destroyed. Could this have been
the same storm finishing its course after a
month's wandering from England to "Gib"?

In October, 1838—quite yesterday to us middle-
aged gentlemen a trifle stiff in the knees, and
with a few winter snows upon our heads—a
hurricane spent its fury on the houses and buildings
in London, but did not kill so many people
as might have been expected; and on the 6th
and 7th of January, 1839, an awful hurricane on
the western coast of England and in Ireland did
an amount of damage unsurpassed in our time.
Through Cheshire, Staffordshire, and Warwickshire
the storm raged with terrific violence. In
Liverpool twenty persons were killed by the
falling of stones, beams, and rafters, and one
hundred people were drowned in the harbours.
Nearly half a million sterling was calculated as
the value of ships lost, and the coast and
harbours were encumbered with dead bodies and
wrecks floating about. In Limerick, Galway,
and Athlone more than two hundred houses were
blown down, and as many more burnt, the wind
spreading the fires. The greatest damage was
done at Dublin, while London was, comparatively,
free from harm.

Since then we have had no tempest of any
specially outrageous behaviour. We have had
bad storms and high gales, wrecks and accidents,
as equinoctial matters of course; but we have
not had anything very terrific or universal.
Even the storm of October last, would not have
been thought of much noticeable fierceness, had
it not been for the sad wreck of the Royal
Charter. But what it is chiefly noticeable for,
is, that it has set scientific men a-thinking, and
that it will most likely give a great impetus to
that science of the future by which we shall be
able to regulate our crops, time our travels,
determine our harvests, and avoid our shipwrecks,
almost as completely as if we carried Æolus,
Boreas, Auster, and the rest of them in our
"pocket siphonias," and were, in truth, the
weather magicians that the Finns and the
medicine-men pretend to be.

Just published, in one vol. demy 8vo, price 9s.,
                 A TALE OF TWO CITIES.
                  BY CHARLES DICKENS.
With Sixteen Illustrations by HABLOT K. BKOWNE.

               THE HAUNTED HOUSE;
Being the extra Christmas double Number of
ALL THE YEAR ROUND, will be published on
             Tuesday next. Price 4.d.