have been most beautifully verified and confirmed.

It is not thought wise to undertake more than can be securely accomplished. The synopses and "probabilities" are all that intelligent shippers and careful seamen require. Shippers will not send their vessels to sea if the weather synopsis indicates threatening or alarming weather.

Travelers can consult the "probabilities" before leaving home; and any severe storm that menaces any city or port is now specially telegraphed thither, and the announcement is made by bulletins posted in the most public places.

in mind. To the study of every such storm,
and of all the "probabilities" issued from the
office, the chief signal officer gives his personal
and unremitting attention. As the observations
are made at so many stations, and forwarded
every eight hours, or oftener, by special tele-
gram from all quarters of the country, the
movements and behavior of every decided storm
can be precisely noted; and the terrible meteor
can be tracked and “raced down" in a very few
hours or minutes. A beautiful instance of this
occurred on the 22d of February last, just after
the great storm which had fallen upon San
Francisco. While it was still revolving around
that city, its probable arrival at Corinne, Utah,
was telegraphed there, and also at Cheyenne.
Thousands of miles from its roar, the officers at
the Signal Office in Washington indicated its
track, velocity, and force. In twenty-four hours,
as they had forewarned Cheyenne and Omaha,
it reached those cities. Chicago was warned
twenty hours or more before it came. Its ar-
rival there was with great violence, unroofing
houses and causing much destruction. Its
course was telegraphed to Cleveland and Buf- | geant is stationed.
falo, which, a day afterward, it duly visited.
The president of the Pacific Railroad has not
more perfectly under his eye and control the
train that left San Francisco to-day than Gen-
eral Myer had the storm just described.

By the modest estimate of the signal officers, the following is a table showing percentage of "probabilities" that have been verified.

Fully verified..
Verified in part..
Failed.....

It must, however, be borne in mind that the failures have often been due to lack of information from points where as yet no observer-ser

FUTURE AIMS.

fidence it has in the people that they will patiently await the development of solid science, meantime leaving no stone unturned to hasten forward the observations which may lead to a more exact acquaintance with the habits, movements, and tracks of our American storms. Great progress has in a very short time been made in this knowledge, and every day new light is dawning upon the science of storms.

The Signal Service has, up to this time, acted upon the wise maxim of “making haste slowly," and undertaking to do nothing which was While the observers now in the field are per- not in its power to do safely and securely, withfecting themselves in their work, the chief sig-out risk of failure. It has acted upon the connal officer is training other sergeants at the camp of instruction (Fort Whipple, Virginia), who will go forth hereafter as valued auxiliaries. It has been fully demonstrated by the signal officer that the army of the United States is the best medium through which to conduct most efficiently and economically the operations of the Storm Signal Service. Through the army organization the vast system of telegraphy for meteorological purposes can be, and is now being, most successfully handled. "Whatever else General Myer has not done," says the New York World, "he has demonstrated that there can be, and now is, a perfect net-work of telegraphic communication extending over the whole country, working in perfect order, by the signal-men, and capable of furnishing almost instantaneous messages from every point to the central office at Washington. Think of a single jump by wire from San Francisco 2700 miles eastward three times a day! When General Myer undertook to put this system in working order, the telegraph companies said it was impossible-no such thing had ever been heard of in telegraphing. It is now a grand fait accompli, as much as the passing of the Suez Canal by ships or the escaping from Paris by balloons."

At present the signal officer aims only to give a synopsis of each day's weather, and a statement of what weather may be expected or will probably occur. The "probabilities" so far

• New York World, March 5, 1871. VOL. XLIII-No 255.-27

The instruments of the service have been bought on trial. They are undergoing the most varied experiments. In a short time, it is hoped, they will be greatly improved and perfected, and then the chief signal officer's results will be more satisfactory to himself, and his labors will be greatly facilitated. The celerity with which important results have already been attained by this officer has surprised and startled both himself and the friends of the great movement.

As soon as possible, therefore, the Signal Of fice will have its signal posts along the lakes and on our Atlantic sea-board, where cautionary signals will be displayed, warning vessels of approaching gales and storms, and also a signal for clear weather. These will be displayed by day and by night, by a very simple and suitable contrivance now being perfected by General Myer. In New York already arrangements have been made for displaying the signals to shipping in the harbor from a lofty structure on the roof of the Equitable Life Insurance Company's office, the best station that could be chosen. The display of these storm

signals proper will place the American Signal difference as to results.
Bureau at once in a position to render inesti-
mable service to shipping and all commercial
interests.

These signals will at first be neglected by ruder and more unskillful seamen and shippers; but, as in the case of the famous Fitzroy signals on the English coast, every week will add new demonstrations of the value and utility of this system-one of the most splendid gifts bequeathed by modern science to the human

race.

They had slept soft and lived well, however it might fare with those out of whom their case was wrung, and who would as soon have thought of remonstrating with that invisible Power whose tempests sometimes swept down their harvests and swamped their boats as with the carelessly cruel line which from a height far removed from their common humanity-save in the accidents of birth and death-stretched out over their heads the rod of an absolute rule.

But all this was over now. The present rep

The signaling of storms and desolating cy-resentative of the family had neither the powclones to the unsuspecting seaman will, it is believed, mark a new era in our lake and coast navigation, and be the means of annually saving many lives and millions of dollars' worth of our floating property.

The comparison of these signals with the weather following the signals will be then a matter of special attention. Every discrepancy can then be carefully noted and probed, and every day the meteorologists in charge of the "probabilities" will find the means of rectifying any errors they may have fallen into, and daily increasing the accuracy and perfecting the plan of their forecasts.

er nor the will to keep up the ancient state, and preferred getting rid of his much diminished revenues in Paris. So the walls that should have sheltered him stood lonely and mossgrown, and the people who should have been his serfs dwelt underneath, disgracefully free and contented, selling their cheese and eggs and fish to the best advantage, and luxuriating unhindered in dirt and disorder—a privilege, to be sure, with which, to do them justice, their former proud oppressors had never interfered.

But although the old château was deserted, or rather because it was deserted, it was one of the best features of a landscape rich in attractions. The scenery of St. Etienne is not so much striking as lovely. It has little of the bold, except just on the sea-shore, where the rocks are piled high and ragged, and where in a storm the great waves come climbing and clamoring in wildly enough. But turning to look inland, and keeping your back on the toosuggestive bath buildings, you see a soft green country rolling up and back in gentle swells, dotted with clusters of low thatched cottages scarcely rising over the abundant harvests about them, and behind, on the highest slope of all, looking down even on the leafy heads of its

The storm signals will be displayed at any hour of the day or night when the instrumental indications give notice of bad weather; and experience has already shown that generally at least twenty-four hours' forewarning can be given from the central office in Washington of all important weather phenomena. With the telegraph to premonish, forecasts for two or three days in advance are hazardous and unnecessary. For almost all practical purposes of life a day's notice of atmospheric disturbances is quite sufficient, and more reliable than longer premonitions. It will be a grand triumph for American science when the electric telegraph-twisting chestnut avenue, with white glimpses an American invention-is so utilized that it will bring all citizens of the United States into electric communication with each other, and the most fearful storm, as well as the sunshine and shower, shall be every day a subject of forewarning or gratulation throughout the land, and even on the lakes and oceans that wash the American coasts.

MISS LANGTON'S PORTRAIT.
T. ETIENNE is a little bathing establish-

on the French coast. I say a bathing establish-
ment, because it is this which really makes the
place of any account; this, and not the small vil-
lage with its château overlooking it, which con-
stitutes St. Etienne proper. In the good old
feudal days, when the lords of the soil took,
as a matter of course, that unlimited license
so sadly curtailed by the narrowing spirit of
later times, there had been gay doings in that
same château, The race of St. Etienne de
Forsanz had always been used to grind the
faces of their dependents with a charming in-

of the road between, a gray irregular mass, with every seam and ivy stem outlined against the warm blue air that winks and trembles under the flood of the summer sunlight. Every where greenness, glow, and luxuriance, with that one sombre foil to give exactly the rest to the eye and shade to the thought needful for the perfect enjoyment of the picture.

Upon all this beauty there was but one blot -the bathing establishment mentioned in the beginning. Standing on the sea-shore you could, as I have said, turn your back upon it;

reverse the view, you looked from the château's topmost turret down on the laughing land thrown out now against the dark rocks and the dim sea-distance. Here to turn your back on the building was to turn it at the same time on the finest points of view. You must bear with it as best you might, but with such a perpetual and growing irritation that you began to understand how the last St. Etienne de Forsanz had been willing to abandon his ancestral home rather than suffer from this constant eye-sore. Not that such a motive had in the least influ

enced Monsieur Auguste's very willing exile ; only it might well have done so.

Ugly as it is, the establishment has its own sufficient reasons for existence. And they are better reasons than the deserted old château could boast in those utilitarian eyes to which a thing of beauty is not necessarily a joy forever. Tenantless, ivy-grown, dilapidated here and there, the picturesque towers were of worth only as they helped increase the attractions of the thriving speculation on which they frowned down so grimly. The place had been admirably chosen by one possessing a quick perception of the temporal, if not of the eternal, fitness of things. Just at one side of the rocky cliffs, it not only commands a wide, smooth beach, unsurpassed for sea-bathing, but the spring of medicinal waters from which it derives the better part of its reputation. The establishment is large, long, and straggling, a small village in itself, and filled, during the season, with that motley crowd which such a place is wont to assemble together.

From the railway station, twelve miles distant, you can reach St. Etienne by one of the diligences always in waiting for the incoming train. Or, if you do not grudge a slight extra expense, you can take an open carriage, and go | at your own pace and will through the beautiful country. This had been the choice of two English travelers, father and daughter, on their way to the baths one soft May day in the year 1870.

As they neared their destination they began to overtake various loiterers scattered singly or in little groups along the road, all of whom turned to look, with a sort of idle curiosity, at the carriage and its occupants. Among them, but somewhat apart, was a young man with a pack on his shoulders, and a folded camp-stool in his hand. At the noise of wheels he too raised his eyes with a careless glance, which changed immediately into a gaze too absorbed even to notice the respectful flourish with which the driver touched his hat. Going on, the latter turned and spoke a few words in French to his passengers.

"What does he say?" asked the gentleman, bending forward. "Painter, eh? and handsome enough for one of his own models, if he was well brushed. Uncommonly dusty; but that's all in the way of art-hey, Alice?"

To this unique exposition of the artistic nature Miss Langton made no reply. It is doubtful if she even heard her father's words, occupied as she was in analyzing the look the young man had given her.'

Too many admiring glances had been bestowed on Alice Langton to cause her any surprise now, but this was something else and much more than admiration; it was recognition, instantaneous and unmistakable, though qualified with a certain wonder. Yet that she had never before seen his face-a face not readily overlooked nor forgotten-she was equally certain.

In the midst of these reflections they reached the door of the great caravansary, from which flew forth a crowd of quick and obsequious attendants, eager to welcome milor and miladi, and save them, if that might be, the trouble of moving so much as an eyelid. Mr. Langton, with a muttered aside upon "a plague of French frogs forever hopping in the way," himself conducted his daughter to her rooms, and saw, first of all, every thing disposed for her requirements, possible or impossible; then, with a strict injunction not to move until his return, he took himself away to reconnoitre a little, according to his habit in any new surroundings.

The old château, of which he had had a glimpse before dismounting, especially interested him. A man of stirring, restless temperament, he delighted in those odds and ends of information readily acquired in traveling, and of about as much use to their possessors as so many fragments of china-ware which will never match, nor form, from all their variety, a single whole and serviceable dish. Having considered his new study from all accessible points without, Mr. Langton's next wish was to see something of its inside, and, impatient as usual, longed for some one to question at once. He had not long to wait. Hearing a step on the rocks below the ledge where he had seated himself, he jumped up and accosted the newcomer, with little ceremony, in the best French he could muster.

But Mr. Langton's best French was singularly bad. He could ask for a dinner or a bed intelligibly enough, at any rate, to get what he wanted; but once off the beaten track, he stood, unsupported by better knowledge, as helpless as a child that has lost its way. Now, having begun half a dozen different sentences, and made an utter failure of each, he broke off short, to groan in English,

"Confound such a language! there's no making head or tail of it."

"I speak a little English, if monsieur prefers," remarked the other, with edifying gravity.

"And why the devil were you too polite to tell me that at first? There, there! I beg your pardon."

"For calling me polite?" said the young man, with a smile.

"No, no, but for Never mind! Now I look closer, it's the young painter."

"At monsieur's service," responded the other, lifting his hat again.

66

Now, my friend, my name is Langton," said the English gentleman, abruptly, "and if you'll do me a favor you'll call me that, and not mosseer. You speak surprisingly well-for a Frenchman; and if you'd only leave those outlandish names alone, you would not be so much more out of the way than a real Englishman brought up on the Continent."

"As Mister Langtonne pleases," said the young artist, amused rather than annoyed by the oddities of his new acquaintance.