162 LUCKNOW. 
mencement the sky began to clear, the tufaun went off to the east- 
ward, and the wind immediately returned to that quarter. The air 
was perfectly cool, and free from dust. Although all my windows 
and doors had been kept closed, and there were tattys on the out- 
side, yet the sand was so penetrating, that it had covered my bed 
and furniture with a complete coat of dust. Mr. Paul tells me, he 
once was caught in a north-wester on the banks of the Ganges, when 
the darkness lasted for several hours. This, however, was one of 
the most tremendous that had ever been beheld at Lucknow. One 
person was literally frightened to death- There is, indeed, no danger 
from the storm itself, but the fires in the houses are in such situ- 
ations that a blast might easily drive a spark against their thatched 
roofs, heated already by the sun; in which case, the darkness would 
probably preclude the possibility of saving any part of the town. 
It is equally probable that a roof may be blown in, which would 
have the same melancholy consequences. The long drought had 
pulverised so much of the country, and so completely annihilated 
vegetation on the sandy plains, that the tufaun brought with it 
more sand than usual; and to that alone must be attributed the 
perfect darkness. It was the most magnificent and awful sight I 
ever beheld ; not even excepting a storm at sea. The wind in both 
cases was of equal violence, but neither the billows of the ocean, 
nor the sense of danger, affected my mind so much as this unnatu- 
ral darkness. 
June 3. — I went out to dine at Constantia, once the residence of 
General Martin. It is a strange fantastical building of every species 
of architecture, and adorned with minute stucco fret-work, enor- 
mous red lions with lamps instead of eyes, Chinese mandarins and 
