In the meantime the clouds began to darken, and appeared to rest upon the top of the mountains. The wind whistled mournfully among the trees—the air became chill—the mercury fell, and in a few moments the windows of heaven were opened, and the long-looked and wished-for rain descended, not in measured drops, “soft and slow,” but in torrents. Now was the season of exultation; every vessel capable of containing fluids was put in requisition, and the mortified _water-merchant_ was obliged to get rid of his cargo the best way he could. Near to our residence is a kennel, which in dry weather is totally devoid of moisture, but during these heavy rains it becomes a small rivulet. To this stream then rushed a motley group; men, women, and children, dogs and poultry —all participating in the general joy; even the swinish multitude grunted forth their approbation, and ran to lave their snouts in its cool waters. It was laughable to see the little black children as they scampered about, shaking their hands, and screaming with delight as they enjoyed their natural “shower bath,” which proved a more effective one than even Mrs. O’Flinn’s. Talking of “shower baths” brings to my recollection an anecdote related of a late merchant of St. John’s. Mr. B———, the merchant in question, had been for some time suffering from indisposition, and his medical attendant advised him to try the renovating influence of a shower-bath. Accordingly, such a machine was duly procured, and the next morning put into requisition. In the course of the day the physician called to ascertain the state of his patient after his ablution, and with winning voice, inquired how he liked his “shower-bath.” “Oh, doctor!” replied the sick man, with rueful look and lengthened visage, “I verily thought I should have fainted, the shock was so great.” “Indeed,” said Dr. M———, in his usual bland manner, “I am sorry it had such an effect; why did you not follow the Irishman’s plan, and take your umbrella?” The next forenoon brought with it the customary medical visitor, who again inquired into the merits of the bath. “Why,” quoth the invalid, “I cannot say the shock was so great, but I do not think I shall derive any benefit from it; in fact, only my feet received a wetting this time, for I followed your advice _and carried my umbrella!_” But to return to the subject of droughts. Severe as the drought was in 1833, it was nothing compared to what we suffered in 1837, from the same cause; and, indeed, for the greater part of the preceding year. The old people remarked that they never remembered its being so dry since 1789, (which was particularly distinguished as “the year of the drought.”) What miseries the Antiguans then suffered, I am of course from experience unable to say; but if they exceeded those endured in that eventful year, 1837, they must have been terrible indeed.