334 Dr George Buist on the 



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and intense every night. Until the rains actually fall, the 

 clouds invariably disappear immediately after dark, and two 

 hours after the sun has gone down surrounded by the em- 

 blems of coming tempest, the stars shine out everywhere 

 down to the very edge of the horizon, and not a flock or film 

 of vapour is to be seen staining the deep blue of the serene 

 expanse from side to side of the firmament. Suddenly, and 

 in general after a day of unusual tranquillity, a little after 

 sunset, a blast at once darts forth from the east, followed by 

 a gush of rain as if the windows of heaven had been opened, 

 the thunder roars and lightnings flash incessantly, the 

 quivering light of a continuous succession of flashes being 

 sometimes sufficient for five or ten seconds on end to permit 

 the smallest print to be read. Sometimes it shoots upwards 

 from the earth, sometimes it seems to rain down in long 

 streams, like a string of red-hot beads, reaching from the 

 clouds to the sea ; most frequently it darts in long zig-zags 

 horizontally from cloud to cloud, or bursting in all direc- 

 tions from a single point like a shower of coruscations shot 

 on every side. This state of matters generally lasts from one 

 to two hours, when the wind veers round to south-westward, 

 blowing with increased steadiness and diminished force, and 

 the voice of the thunder, which had just before pealed in 

 a succession of tremendous claps or roars, is heard lowly 

 bellowing in the distance. 



It may be mentioned in passing that although all our con- 

 tinued storms blow on us from the south-west, and the sea 

 breezes during the fair weather are north-westerly, that our 

 casual blasts invariably burst upon us from the mountains to 

 the east of us, as if these formed the grand magazine of 

 thunder and storm. The first burst of the monsoon seldom 

 lasts more than a single night and part of a day, and the 

 second dawn presents the most wonderful change in the scene 

 that can be imagined. The burnt and parched earth seems 

 now washed and refreshed everywhere, long spikes of grass 

 of the tenderest green already shoot up from what a few 

 days before were brown and barren plains ; deep and filthy 

 pits and unseemly tracts, half choked up with rubbish, straw, 

 and withered leaves, are now the basins of pellucid pools and 



