78 
A NATURALIST ON THE TROIVL. 
In candour it must be admitted that the monsoon brings 
with it some inconveniences ; but they are for the most 
part connected with our civilisation. Books grow limp 
and their backs come off, leprosy attacks gloves and all 
manner of silk and satin finery, a marvellous forest of 
mould springs from the bodies of the tiniest butterflies in 
my collection, cheroots grow too damp to smoke, rats 
infest the house, and basins and soup plates stand about 
on the carpet to catch the drops from the leaky roof. The 
ants, which stand next to us .in point of civilisation, 
evidently suffer in much the same way. The water has 
got into their under-ground houses, flooding the cellars 
and nurseries, wetting their stores of grain and drowning 
a good number of babies. All day long they are busy 
repairing or checking the ravages of the flood. 
But the prime inconvenience of monsoon weather is in- 
dependent of civilisation: the fear of getting wet is universal. 
The gentleman runs because the rain will spoil his clothes, 
but the coolie runs as fast because he has none. And when 
you realise that at this time birds of all kinds and the 
majority of wild beasts, not to speak of flimsy butterflies 
and moths, live and sleep in the open air, you cannot help 
wondering how they manage. My sympathies go especi- 
