CEYLON COCOA ESTATE 87 



cheerful tone. Even the flowers and the pot 

 plants droop in the sultry air, and the dogs 

 lie stretched out on the earthen floor of the 

 verandah with scarcely a wag of the tail left in 

 them. At last — the clock strikes four — a slight 

 breeze springs up, clouds are banked high in 

 two directions. The skirmishers of the S.W. 

 monsoon meet the nearly exhausted forces of 

 the N.E. peals of thunder, like a discharge of 

 artillery reverberate from mountain to mountain, 

 flashes of the most vivid forked and chain 

 lightning cleave the black clouds, then comes 

 the deluge of the much desired rain, and, hey 

 presto ! all is changed. The flowers lift their 

 heads, the dogs get up and shake themselves 

 the flies vanish as by magic, and in spite of 

 leaking roof, we cast all our gloomy thoughts 

 to the winds, and say, " After all, Ceylon is not 

 such a bad place to live in." 



This miraculous change of front occurs, just 

 at present two or three times a week ; but we 

 have yet a spell of great heat before us ere 

 the S.W. monsoon bursts in full force, bringing 

 cool weather in its train. Rob is preparing 

 for its beneficent reign, by having thousands 

 of holes cut for the young cocoa plants he 

 has raised in his nurseries, in order to supply 

 vacancies on the Estate caused by d^ease and 

 neglect. The nurseries are first fenced in with 

 stakes placed close together, then long raised 



