lleras. It is always
fierce, but sometimes so powerful, that it is impossible to advance
against it. When the sun is down, the wind likewise subsides, and till
nine or ten o'clock in the evening there is a perfect calm.

Sunset in these regions is a magnificent spectacle. The play of
colours in the heavens is quite indescribable. When the moon rises,
the same thing occurs. Opposite the orb, a huge pile of vapour rises
in shadowy forms, on which the light is thrown, producing the most
wonderful effects. In these chromatic displays, red is the colour that
predominates. Towards midnight, the wind begins to blow from the east,
at first gently, but icy cold, for it comes from the regions of
perpetual frost and snow. The radiation of heat from such an extensive
and almost glowing surface is naturally very great and rapid, and
after midnight it begins to freeze. An hour before sunrise, all
stagnant water is frozen over; and the thermometer falls sometimes to
28 degrees Fahrenheit--on an average it is at 32 degrees--to rise
again at noon to 90 degrees.

THINGS TALKED OF IN LONDON.

_October_ 1852.

The death of the great Duke has for a time kept other subjects of
conversation in abeyance; but by slow degrees the old hero slides into
the past, and the tongues and pens of thousands are busily recalling
the words, works, and exploits by which he won for himself
'imperishable renown.' His life presents itself to us in different
aspects, wherein the lowliest as well as the loftiest may find
something exemplary; and all may learn a lesson in that virtue of
virtues--persevering straightforwardness. By and by, we shall have a
magnificent funeral; and then, as new events follow, we shall find
whether new men are to come capable of meeting them; whether there are
to be heroes after Agamemnon as well as before.

The remains of the Great Exhibition building are fast disappearing
from Hyde Park, under the busy hands of the troops of workmen engaged
in the business of taking down and removal. Heavily-laden wagons are
continually departing from each entrance, and every hour the
prodigious mass of materials is diminished. The spectacle is a
striking one in many respects, and would be a melancholy one were it
not for the certainty of restoration. Already the grass is beginning
to grow on the ground, worn bare by millions of feet; and before many
months are over, the greensward will agai