having to estimate the direction and rate of motion of every storm the instant it shows itself in their neighborhood, are in the position of astronomers expected to assign the path of a comet from the first glimpse they get of it through a break in a cloud—a problem which all will allow to be impossible of solution. Accordingly, great interest attaches to the attempts made from time to time to lay down principles for forecasting the motion of the disturbance.
I have already stated that, as a general rule, the cyclones move round the anticyclones; but this principle requires for its application to storm-warning purposes, access to charts embracing a very considerable extent of the earth's surface. These are very difficult for Englishmen to obtain, as our own daily charts are very limited in area, and frequently do not exhibit even the whole extent of a single cyclonic depression, much less its relation to the distribution of pressure all about it. For those, however, who can consult such charts it is possible, so to speak, to take their stand at a higher point of view and survey the conditions prevailing, say over Europe, on any given day.
If the amount of change in the pressure or of rise and fall of the barometer during the preceding night be plotted every morning on such a chart, it is found that the path of the system for the day does not lie directly toward the region where the greatest fall has occurred during the night, but is regulated to a certain extent by the direction of the line drawn from the point of greatest fall to that of greatest rise.
Another theory of storm-motion, strongly held by those who attribute all our storms to condensation of vapor, is that the track of the depression is always directed toward the region where the air is dampest. This principle, like that just noticed, can hardly be turned to account in this country for our own practical benefit, inasmuch as the whole of these islands appear to be almost equally damp, owing to the proximity of most of our telegraphic reporting stations to the sea.
Other suggestions have been made in various quarters, with the view of throwing light on this very important subject; but we can not say that the results have met with general acceptance, and the matter urgently demands further study.
I must now come to the final portion of my theme—the death of a storm; and on this subject, unfortunately, I have very little to say. As we have not been able to produce evidence of the birth of a storm, so have we never been lucky enough to find any one who was in at the death. In fact, some French meteorologists have hazarded the statement that storms can travel all round the world until at last they travel off it.
Storms have been traced from the Pacific coast of North America across the Atlantic; but these instances are necessarily rare, and, as far as European experience goes, no storm arriving from the Atlantic ever travels far into Russia. This fact is, of course, very much in favor of the condensation theory of storm generation, which has already
