132 



The Natuealist. 



way through the woods, before the afternoon storm reaches us. These 

 storms are of almost daily occurrence during the hot season, and 

 usually come on between three and five o'clock, though I have expe- 

 rienced some heavy ones in the early morning, and when these take 

 place we may reckon on rain for the rest of the day. But the regular 

 afternoon storm is generally of short duration, and leaves the evening 

 fine, cool, and refreshing after the overpowering heat of the day. The 

 sun rises in a cloudless sky ; about ten o'clock light fleecy clouds 

 appear and float gently by, gradually accumulating in great masses as 

 they grow. At one or two o'clock they form large towers of cumulus 

 around the horizon, and as the day wears on an occasional flash is seen 

 to dart through them, illuminating their crags and crevices with a 

 glorious dazzling white. Meanwhile the wall of darkness from 

 beneath grows blacker, and rises higher and higher until the 

 outskirts of the cloudy pall, fringed and torn with the tension of 

 the electric charge, obscure the sun and cast a grateful shade 

 upon the parched soil. Then the roll of thunder- is heard, a 

 mighty wind bows down the swaying trees, a few great raindrops 

 patter on the outstretched leaves of the wild banana and the huge 

 Cecropias, and in a moment the fur}^ of the storm is upon us. 

 Umbrellas and waterproofs are of little avail in such storms as these, 

 the former only acting as a sort of sieve that cuts the huge drops into 

 spray, and the latter collecting the little streams into a few great rivers 

 that flow pleasantly into your boots. When 1 have been caught in 

 one of these tornadoes I have made up my mind that I was going to 

 get wet, and I have seldom been mistaken. In the midst of the 

 turmoil the lightning is almost incessant, and the thunder one con- 

 tinuous roar. But this only lasts for ten minutes or a quarter of an 

 hour, then one or two flashes and simultaneous deafening explosions 

 announce the end, the rain lessens, and the storm has passed away, 

 leaving the air cool and fresh, and all Nature rejoicing. Then the 

 evening concert begins, the crickets leading off the orchestra of toads 

 and frogs with their endless variety of wind instruments and drums, 

 Bye-and-bye, as the sun sinks below the horizon, and the short tropic 

 twilight deepens into night, the concert room is lit by countless hosts 

 of fire-flies flashing out their tiny lamps in rhythmic pulsations, with 

 here and there a great green electric light carried on the shoulders of 

 a huge Elater beetle sailing majestically through the forest glades, and 

 we enter on the glories of a tropic night. 



But all this time, while I have been talking about thunder-storms, 

 we wjU suppose that we have been walking briskly on, and can now 



