sloping roof. 18 harmattan, a hot, dry wind, prevalent on the west coast of Africa during December, January, and February, blowing from the interior. (see app.)

THE WIND IN A FROLIC.

THE wind one morning sprang up from sleep,
Saying, "Now for a frolic! now for a leap!
Now for a mad-cap galloping chase!
I'll make a 'commotion in every place!"

So it swept with a bustle right through a great town,
Cracking the signs and scattering down

Shutters; and 'whisking, with merciless squalls,
Old women's bonnets and gingerbread stalls.
There never was heard a much lustier shout,
As the apples and oranges trundled about;
And the urchins that stand with their thievish eyes
For ever on watch ran off each with a prize.

Then away to the field it went, blustering and humming,
And the cattle all wondered whatever was coming:
It plucked by the tails the grave "matronly cows,
And tossed the colts' manes all about their brows;
Till, offended at such an unusual salute,

They all turned their backs, and stood sulky and 'mute.

So on it went capering and playing its pranks,
Whistling with reeds on the broad river's banks,
Puffing the birds as they sat on the spray,
Or the traveller grave on the king's highway.
It was not too nice to 'hustle the bags
Of the beggar, and flutter his dirty rags;

'Twas so bold, that it feared not to play its joke

With the doctor's "wig or the gentleman's cloak.

Through the forest it roared, and cried gaily, "Now,
You sturdy old oaks, I'll make you bow!"

And it made them bow without more "ado,

Or it cracked their great branches through and through.

Then it rushed like a monster on cottage and farm,
Striking their dwellers with sudden alarm ;

And they ran out like bees in a midsummer swarm ;
There were dames with their "kerchiefs tied over their caps,
To see if their poultry were free from 13mishaps;
The turkeys they gobbled, the geese screamed aloud,
And the hens crept to roost in a "terrified crowd;
There was rearing of ladders, and logs laying on,
Where the thatch from the roof threatened soon to be gone.

But the wind had swept on, and had met in a lane
With a schoolboy, who panted and struggled in vain ;
For it tossed him, and twirled him, then passed, and he stood
With his hat in a pool, and his shoes in the mud.

Then away went the wind in its holiday glee,
And now it was far on the billowy sea,
And the lordly ships felt its staggering blow,
And the little boats darted to and fro.
But lo! it was night, and it sank to rest
On the sea-bird's rock in the gleaming west,
Laughing to think, in its fearful fun,
How little of mischief it had done.

5

William Howitt.

2 whisking, turning round and 4 lustier, louder; stronger.

9

8

1 commotion, a disturbance. round. merciless, without pity. matronly, motherly. salute, greeting. mute, silent. spray, the end of a branch, or a tiny branch. hustle, shake; handle roughly. 10 wig, false hair. "ado, trouble; difficulty. "kerchief, a covering for the head and neck, generally square in shape, and folded once through the corners. 13 mishaps, accidents; misfortunes. 14 terrified, frightened.

FORGIVE MANY THINGS IN OTHERS, BUT NOTHING IN YOURSELF.

IF in the dry season, which with you is winter, I marvelled at the vegetable growth in this country, I may marvel still more at the appearance it presents now in August; for where before there were brown withered grass and underwood, through the openings of which one could see a few feet into the bush, now, the trees, shrubs, grass, and weed together at each side of some of the walks, form quite an 1impervious wall of 'matted verdure.

The most unpleasant thing about the wet season is the impossibility of getting out every day to take proper exercise. Sometimes it looks so radiantly clear and sunny, you feel assured there is opportunity for a short quick walk, and set out accordingly. But after proceeding a few steps, you are perhaps intent upon examining a flower, or watching some bird or butterfly, feeling the sun so intensely hot that you do not dream of rain; when a sudden sound, like hailstones falling, causes you to look towards the quarter whence it proceeds, and there moves on a shower of water, so rapidly, that though you run back with speed, still, generally speaking, your dress becomes so thoroughly wet as to render an immediate change 'imperatively necessary. If you wish to ride, it is still worse. No sooner is

your horse saddled, than all the clouds seem to congregate upon the hill-tops, and at once disperse themselves in a deluge, of which but ten minutes before there was not the slightest appearance throughout the whole sky.

Then the mornings are sometimes so cold, that you feel chilly though in a winter dress, at the same time that a fire is blazing in the house and every window shut; while by-and-by the breeze dies away, dull dark clouds hang in all directions, and though the sun only shines partially, the 'sultriness of the atmosphere continues most oppressive for several hours. Then a violent gale may come on from the sea, accompanied by heavy rain, and you feel ready to shiver with the thermometer at 76°. It must be these sudden heats and chills that render the climate so trying.

I do not dislike the incessant rain so much as the dense damp fogs of Sierra Leone; not from the miasma they are said to bring, but from their unpleasantness. They often rise out of the ravines at either side of us, and hang about for hours. When these mists go out to sea, we may always look for rain; but if, after they have hung about for some time, giving us a peep now and then of the 10barrack buildings, and one or two of the tall masts of the vessels in the harbour, they rise and roll up towards the hill, we may expect it to turn out fine and sunny, although in the depth of the rainy season. And a fine day in the "rains" is always so much more lovely and bright than the finest day

of the dry season; not because it comes so seldom, and contrasts with the many dull gloomy days, but really on account of its own 11intrinsic beauty. There is no haze in the atmosphere; the distant horizon, hill, shore, all seem brought near by a magic glass; and the sea lies stretched out with the gleam of a brilliant 12sapphire.

The sky then is indeed blue, the sun bright, and the earth green! Yet the woods do not present a uniform hue, which would tire from its sameness. Not only do you behold every shade of green, but many of the trees put forth leaves, at first of a delicate crimson, which look like magnificent tufts of flowers, and thus give to the bush a richly 13variegated aspect.

Ever since the "rains" set in, the birds seem to have become tamer. Fluttering amongst the orange branches in the morning, is the "palm bird," so called from building its nest in palm trees, a lovely creature with bright orange and black plumage. Another, scarcely less elegant in form, reminds me of the greenfinch and canary, having a light saffroncoloured head and breast, with wings and tail of yellowish brown, beautifully glossed with green.

Yet more striking in aspect than any of these is the graceful little whydah finch, or, as it is familiarly called here, from its jetty plumage, the "widowbird." Its head and neck are far more shining and smooth than the richest velvet, and its tail-feathers, which are above twice the length of its body, seem, as much as its wings, to waft the bird through the