82 JUNE 



he shouts with the voice of a ship-siren : "Brain 

 fever ! brain fever ! ! brain fever ! ! ! brain fever ! ! ! ! " 

 till night seems more hideous than ever. 



But why the native policemen should be allowed 

 to yell to each other, at any and every hour of the 

 night, and connect their beats with a chain of 

 howls, beginning on a high note, and slowly descend- 

 ing till they have expended the very long breath 

 they inhaled, is one of the things I cannot under- 

 stand. As if all this is not enough to plague a 

 wakeful person, when every sound seems to cut 

 into the brain in the deadly stillness that precedes 

 the rains, a goods train appears to lose itself near 

 here every night regularly. At any rate it stands 

 and whistles, with a most ear-piercing scream, in 

 the shrillest of penny fifes ; not once, but many 

 times. Whether it is endeavouring to awaken the 

 pointsman, or the signalman, or is merely letting 

 off steam preparatory to going to bed, I know not. 

 The last aggravating sound (though I haven't 

 mentioned owls and cicadas) is the siren belonging 

 to some ship about to sail with the tide, which 

 sometimes even as early as half-past two, thus 

 seems to assemble its captain and crew preparatory 



