to go to church
about six o'clock: the walk was only two miles, and the afternoon was
calm and cloudless. The day had been oppressively hot, but there were
no immediate signs of a storm. While we were in church, however, a
fresh breeze sprang up and drove the clouds rapidly before it. The
glare of the lightning made every corner of the church as bright
as day, and the crash of the thunder shook the wooden roof over our
heads. But there was no rain yet, and when we came out--in fear and
trembling, I confess, as to how we were to get home--we could see that
the violence of the storm had either passed over or not yet reached
the valley in which Maritzburg nestles, and was expending itself
somewhere else. So F---- decided that we might venture. As for
vehicles to be hired in the streets, there are no such things, and
by the time we could have persuaded one to turn out for us--a very
doubtful contingency, and only to be procured at the cost of a
sovereign or so--the full fury of the storm would probably be upon us.
There was nothing for it, therefore, but to walk, and so we set out
as soon as possible to climb our very steep hill. Instead of the
soft, balmy twilight on which we had counted, the sky was of an inky
blackness, but for all that we had light enough and to spare. I never
saw such lightning. The flashes came literally every second, and lit
up the whole heavens and earth with a blinding glare far brighter than
any sunshine. So great was the contrast, and so much more intense
the darkness after each flash of dazzling light, that we could only
venture to walk on _during_ the flashes, though one's instinct was
rather to stand still, awestricken and mute. The thunder growled and
cracked incessantly, but far away, toward the Inchanga Valley. If the
wind had shifted ever so little and brought the storm back again, our
plight would have been poor indeed; and with this dread upon us we
trudged bravely on and breasted the hillside with what haste and
courage we could. During the rare momentary intervals of darkness we
could perceive that the whole place was ablaze with fireflies. Every
blade of grass held a tiny sparkle of its own, but when the lightning
shone out with its yellow and violet glare the modest light of the
poor little fireflies seemed to be quite extinguished. As for the
frogs, the clamorous noise they kept up sounded absolutely deafening,
and so did the shrill, incessant cry of the cicalas. We reached home
sa