172 FROM NORTH POLE TO EQUATOR. 



herdsmen, in the village, in the town, all life seems as if under a 

 spell. The dogs, usually so lively, slink quietly away to some safe 

 hiding-place ; the other domestic animals become uneasy or else wild, 

 the horses have to be hobbled, and the cattle are driven into the pen. 

 In town, the merchant closes his stall, the artisan his workshop, the 

 officials their divan; everyone takes refuge at home. And yet not 

 a breeze stirs the air; there is not a rustle among the leaves of the 

 few trees which still have foliage. But everyone knows that the 

 storm is gathering and is drawing near. 



In the south is built up a great wall of cloud, dark and at the 

 same time lurid, like the fire-cloud over a burning town or over a 

 forest in flames. Fiery red, purple, dark red, and brown, dull yel- 

 low, deep blue, and black seem to move in a dance of colour; they 

 mingle and separate; they fade into the darkness and appear again 

 in vivid prominence. The great cloud-bank rests upon the earth 

 and reaches up to the heavens; now it seems to stand still, and now 

 it rushes on like a tempest; from minute to minute it narrows the 

 range of vision; more and more completely it throws an impene- 

 trable shroud over all. A whistling, hissing sound issues from it, 

 but around the observer all is still, quiet, and noiseless. 



Then suddenly a brief and violent blast of wind bursts forth. 

 Strong trees bend before it like weak reeds; the slender palms bow 

 down their crowns. With ever-increasing rapidity one blast follows 

 another; the wind becomes a tempest, and the tempest a hurricane, 

 raging with unexampled fury. Its noise is so terrible that the 

 spoken word does not reach the speaker's ear; every other sound is 

 drowned and lost. It rages and roars, blusters and hisses, pipes and 

 howls, rumbles and rattles, in the air, along the ground, among the 

 tops of the trees, as if all the elements were in battle, as if the 

 heavens were falling, as if the very foundations of the earth itself 

 were being shattered. The irresistible storm dashes against the 

 trees, and tears off half of the leaves, if there are any left; while 

 stems as thick as a man's waist are snapped like brittle glass. Break- 

 ing off the crowns, the hurricane whirls them like light balls over 

 the plain, and buries them head downwards in the loose earth or 

 sand, with the miserable fragment of trunk sticking up, a prey to 



