On presenting to the public a work of this novel character, overstepping, as it does, the barriers erected by modern systems to the further progress of knowledge, a few words of explanation may not be inappropriate. Early imbued with a desire to understand the causes of natural phenomena, the author devoured with avidity the interpretations contained in the elementary works of orthodox science, until reason and observation rendered him dissatisfied with the repast. To him it appeared that there was an evident tendency in scholastic instruction, to make the knowledge of nature inaccessible to the many, that the world might be made more dependent on the few; while many of the established principles, on which the learned rested, seemed to be at variance with the simplicity and consistency of truth. Thus situated, he ventured to think for himself, and looking back on the history of the past, and finding so many cases in which the philosophy of to-day was supplanted by a different system on the morrow, he was led to suspect the possibility of future revolutions, and was thus determined to be no longer embarrassed by previous systems, nor deterred by opinions however learned, which conflicted with a rational recognition of the mechanical nature of all physical phenomena.

The science of meteorology, to which the following pages are devoted, is, and always has been, a confessedly complex subject; and on this account, any suggestions and facts which observation gleans,—no matter how humble the source may be, should not be denied a hearing by those professedly engaged in the pursuit of truth. Step by step, the author became more and more confirmed in his doubts of the soundness of many modern theories; and in 1838 he had attained a position which enabled him to allege in the public prints of the day, that there did exist certain erroneous dogmas in the schools, which stood in the way of a fuller development of the causes of many meteorological phenomena. This annunciation was made in general terms, and no notice was taken of it. Subsequently, he forwarded to the British Association of Science, then convened at Birmingham, a communication of similar tenor; and at a later date still, a more particular statement of the advantages of his discoveries to the navigator and agriculturist, was sent to the British admiralty. The first of these communications was treated with silent contempt; the last elicited some unimportant reply. In 1844 a memorial was presented to Congress, accompanied with a certified copy of predictions of the weather, written several weeks before the event, and attested in due form by two impartial witnesses; but neither did this result in any inquiry as to its truth. During the time since elapsed, he has been engaged in pursuits which prevented him from pressing the subject elsewhere, until the spring of 1853, he brought his theory under the notice of the Smithsonian Institution. This led to a correspondence between himself and the gentlemanly Secretary of the Institution, whose doubts of the truth of his allegations were expressed with kindness, and whose courtesy was in strange contrast with the conduct of others. In the communications which he forwarded to that Institution, he gave a detailed statement of the difficulties he had met with, and expressed the hope that an Institution, created for the purpose of increasing and diffusing knowledge, would feel justified in lending the influence of its name to facilitate the completion of a theory which was yet undeniably imperfect. In view of this, a test was proposed.[1] “Give us, for example, a prediction of the weather for one month in each season of the year 1854, for the City of Washington.” This test the author refused, for the reason that he did not consider it necessary to wait so long; but he informed the Secretary of the Institution, that he would prepare an outline of his theory, which would enable him to decide upon the merits of the discoveries claimed. This outline is contained in the following pages. During the summer of 1853 he called upon Professor Henry, then at Chicago, with his manuscript; but a sudden indisposition prevented that gentleman from having it read. He, however, strongly recommended its publication from such impressions he then received.[2] This the author had resolved on, from a sense of duty to the world at large, although the promise was rather of prospective loss than of present benefit. The peculiar form under which the theory appears, is, therefore, a result of the circumstances above stated, and of the author’s present inability to enter into the minute details of a subject, which embraces in its range the whole visible creation.

In extending the theory to other phenomena, he has only fearlessly followed out the same principles which have conducted him to a knowledge of a disturbing cause, to which atmospheric storms owe their origin, and in doing so he has conferred with no one. For whatever of merit or of blame may therefore justly attach to these views, he alone is responsible. If he has charged the scientific with inconsistency, or with sometimes forgetting that the truth of their unnecessarily abstruse investigations depends on the truth of the data, he at least is conscientious; for he is too well aware that to provoke an unfavorable verdict by contending against such fearful odds, is not the surest way to either wealth or fame, or even to an acknowledgment of at least the mite, which he cannot but feel that he has contributed to the treasury of knowledge. That the scientific organisations of the day do tend to curb the aberrations of a fanciful philosophy, cannot be denied; but at the same time there is engendered such a slavish subordination as checks the originality of thought, and destroys that perfect freedom from the trammels of system, so necessary to success in the pursuit of truth. Of such an influence the author explicitly asserts his entire independence.

In thus introducing his theory, the reader is forewarned that he will not find it dressed in the fascinating garb of the popular literature of the day, whose chief characteristic is to promise much when possessing little. It is, however, a plant of the author’s own raising, unpropped, unpruned, with none of the delicate tendrils or graceful festoons of the trellissed vine; yet he flatters himself that its roots are watered by the springs of truth, and hopes that he who is in quest of that, will not find, amidst its many clusters, any fruit to set his teeth on edge.

MECHANICAL THEORY OF STORMS.