Oftea in the course of these many dreary months dark clouds have gathered and in sanguine anticipat tion we put all the verandah plants out in the garden anxious that they should not lose a drop of the precious rain that was coming. Each time we and the verandah plants have been disappointed. Instead of rain a dense cloud o: yellow dust mounting high in the sky and obscuring the sun would rapidly approach and soon we and the whole dried-up nature were covered in a layer of fine dust.
Sometimes the dust-storms would be ivilowed by a few large drops of ram, rain that was muddy from flung through the dust laden atmosphere, making big brown blotches on your flannels and muddy splashes on the bedrabbled and drooping verandah -plants. Only yesterday afternoon we had one <f these annoying experiences. The whole community were as usual gathered on the Club verandah watching a few enthusiasts playing tennis on the sunbaked courts in a temperature of 104 at 6 p.m. We saw the dark clouds gathering in the south, it was stifling hot and we all felt sure that this time it must rain. Earth and all its inhabitants were panting for rai the inhabitants in the meantime imbibing loganberry syrup and soda from the Club's largest tumblers. The first gust of wind had already reached us, the joyful harbinger of the coming downpour. But no. After a while the atmosphere assumed its ominous and familiar, its detestable, yellow hue and in a few minutes we were all fleeing for protection into the stuffy club rooms shutting doors and windows tightly behind us. We ask for rain and we get dust.
Oh, to be in England now that! July is here! Just to lie on your
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.