Cobbett’s Prognostic of the Weather.—It is a universal rule, that if there be fog in the morning, and that fog go from the valleys to the tops of the hills, there will be rain that day; and if it disappears by sinking in the valley, there will be no rain that day. The truth is that fogs are clouds, and clouds are fogs. They are more or less full of water; but they are all water; sometimes a sort of steam, and sometimes water that falls in drops. Yesterday morning the fogs had ascended to the tops of the hills; and it was raining on all the hills round about us before it began to rain in the valleys. We got pretty nearly wet to the skin upon the top of Butser Hill; but we had the pluck to come on and let the clothes dry upon our backs. I must here relate something that appears very interesting to me, and something, which, though it must have been seen by every man that has lived in the country, or, at least, in any hilly country, has never been particularly mentioned by any body as far as I can recollect. We frequently talk of clouds coming from the dews; and we actually see the heavy fogs become clouds. We see them go up to the tops of the hills, and, taking a swim round, actually come and drop down upon us and wet us through; but I am now going to speak of clouds coming out of the sides of hills in exactly the same manner that you see smoke come out of a tobacco-pipe, and rising up, with a wider and wider head, like the smoke from a tobacco-pipe, go to the top of the hill, or over the hill, or very much above it, and then come over the valleys in rain.
…
  These appearances take place, especially in warm and sultry weather. It was very warm in the morning; it had thundered violently the evening before: we felt it hot even while the rain fell upon us at Butser Hill. Petersfield lies in a pretty broad and very beautiful valley. On three sides of it are very lofty hills, partly downs and partly covered with trees; and, as we proceeded on our way from the bottom of Butser Hill to Petersfield, we saw thousands upon thousands of clouds, continually coming puffing out from different parts of these hills and towering up to the top of them. I stopped George several times to make him look at them; to see them come puffing out of the chalk downs as well as out of the woodland hills; and bade him remember to tell his father of it when he should get home, to convince him that the hills of Hampshire could smoke their pipes as well as those of Herefordshire. This is a really curious matter. I have never read in any book, any thing to lead me to suppose that the observation has ever found its way into print before. Sometimes you will see only one or two clouds during a whole morning come out of the side of a hill; but we saw thousand upon thousands bursting out, one after another, in all parts of these immense hills. The first time that I have leisure, when I am in the high-countries again, I will have a conversation with some old shepherd about this matter: if he cannot enlighten me upon the subject, I am sure that no philosopher can.—From Cobbett’s Rural Ride from Hambledon to Petersfield.