The age-herald., 1898-05-19
SEASONS IN
 THE TROPICS

| and have never experienced the tropical
 ssrains." as the wet season, lasting from
 June to October laconically called, few
 remarks on the 'love1y climate" may not be deemed importent. Lovely climate" is
 the generic epithet one hears applied in a vague way to the remote region around
 Manila by amateurs.
 There are three seasons in the true trop-
 ics-the .cold weather" the ''hot weather"
 and the "rains." The climate of the first is
 like that of paradise: that of the second
 like very different and antipodal territory | which shall be nameless in this polite art
 icle, and of the third-well, if there is cli-
 mate that poultice and blue mold, the
 rains" is like that.
 In other words. from the middle of Mo- | vember till the middle of March every day | Is like one of our most beautiful June days. with a cold morning and evening thrown | in, the thermometer marking 65 degrees
 perhaps at noon and 40 degrees a tri1e
 lower even at night. That is the very per-
 lection of weather; it is ''weather as is
 weather" and no mistake.
 From the middle of March till early in
 June the heat grows gradually terrific till | it gets to be unbearable. This climax hap | pens about the middle of May: then you go | on bearing it two or three weeks longer. | The heat flies in zigzags, the ground | flies up to meet it, and together they make | your head swim. Hot and dry, dry and l hot; no rain, yet not a drought, because 1t | never does rain and can't rain at that time | of year. It doesn't know how. In the het
 weather it is only hot In the rainy season 1 1t only rains. There no postponements | on account of the weather, because there is | only one kind of weather-at a time. There
 are no sudden changes, for the same req
 son. There is comfort in these thoughts. | You put your umbrella away in camphor | in September knowing that you will not
 require 1t again for eight months at least. | And you tin your ribbons, silks and kid l gloves dramatically in May, away from mii- | dew, knowing that you will not see them | again before October. There are no baro- | metrical surprises for the dwe,ler in the | tropics There is no starting on picnic | in the distant woods, full of life and spirits | at o'clock in the morning, in light nus | lin dress and straw hat decked with roses,
 with a teeth-chattering return at 4;30 | o'clock the muslin soaked with rain and | then frozen on you, rills of pink from the l saturated roses adorning your nose YOU | may come home in Manila with your gay | blue muslin faded out white, but 1t has not | been rained or showed on. and your feet | are drer and hotter than when you set l forth on them. But then, you don't go l much on picnies in the tropics. Too many | snakes.
 | But the hot weather, being prepared for | it. can be got through somehow. Wet sal | cloth on the top of the brougham, servant l with an umbrella whenever move, houses 1 built to keep cool in with high ceilings and oI,o1, nd no fnnU rpnIIlTed | and no dressing for falls in the thermom- l eter and no burdening oneself with wraps | for such drops-which Is one reason why | we suffer so intensely here when we ven- | tlre out of sight of home-al these apPii- | ances and immunities make it possible to | gasp through the stifing hot weather | day or two of cremation, a lot of dark | clouds and one day, O refreshing remem- | brance. "a few big, round, solemn drops | are heard to slap the baked earth smartiy, l then more and more, hard shower, and | the monsoon has burst. The rains have | come
 | Tug we'll the first few hours of delicious | relief for there comes a time when an ex- | tra raindrop breaks the camefs back, and | you are as overborne with wet as you were | with dryness. But at first The dusty earth | relents and begins to allow the water to | soften its surface; the earth sends up d l grateful fragrance, which yo- dr.nF in | with deep breaths; the shrubs shine, open | their leaves and hold up their heads to l the welcome downpour How tired they l get of their exuberance later, when, soak 1 ed out water-logged, they sometimes lie | sprawling and sullen over the turf, no one | knows, but just now they are greeting the preserver of their lives. When your gates 1 and fences sprout, two months later, and | you have to rush to the looking-glass every | few hours to be sure you have not grown | tender shoot of green from your ear, your- | sef-when your boots mold over night and l nothing that you touch is free from clam | miness-when trenches are eaten through | the hearts of your books and the covers are 1 nibbled and "chawed' and otherwise de- l faced by white ants-then you ask yourself | how you ever could have stood at widow | drinking in the scent which the earth ex- uded and throwing out your hands to catch | what Austin Dobson calls '.spurtIes of | rain" Oh "spurtles," indeed! Water
 falls cataracts, deluges they soon enough l develop into.
 l It does not rain every minute in the | rains but it is likely at any minute to do | so In this way honing yet fearing. you | snatch drives And 1t sometimes rains at night and gives you a day fair and serene. 1 If it rains all day, you have to take your | drives. if you want any air, at night. But | there is no danger of your coachman's | leaving or giving warning" If you feel like l starting out for ten miles after dinner, | which means Il o'clock or so. Your coach- | man takes your order 10 get ms horses | harnessed at midnight with the same l eauanimity with which he receives simi- | lar behest at midday. And he doesn't like l it at either time.
 The pouItice and the mold in the tropical l rains are joys compared with the ins cts, l which are on the rampage, and on you. l swarm of flying beetles once announced the | advent in the east, and having settled | thickly on the dinner table. the army pro- | ceeded to walk upstairs literally. and oc- | cupy the beds! Never will one forget the !, night; when armed with slippers. sticks, | and various inappropriate missiles, the | family assisted by its dependents, mangled \ and squashed 5.6O0,OOO of these scrtnching, | sickepng invaders; and then-at least it ' can be vouched for one member of the | household-sought it's couch, arrayed fin a l hat veil. gloves, short boots and all its | clothes through the horrid darkness. It | was perhaps not as thoroughly nauseating | detail-as the journey for health of this | z f,,ot not hat ho1