Again, suppose you get one atmosphere from the whole area, raised up by the supposed ascensive force, and at the rate of twenty-five, twenty, or even ten miles an hour, and a new volume drawn in from the south-west, and _over the mountains_: will it not take a _little time_ for _that_ to _heat up_? Does it heat so fast as to _keep up the ascensive force_ without intermission, at twenty-five, or twenty, or ten miles the hour? What says Mr. Ericsson to this? Can he not arrange with a moderate lens, to move his engine with the rays of the summer sun? Nay, Lieutenant Maury says they can not heat up "_per saltum_, or in a day." But according to a reasonable calculation, they must heat up the air from 80 deg., or less, to 100 deg., at the rate of 2,000 feet per minute. Heating 2,000 feet in depth, in the proportion of 20 deg. per minute, night and day, for five months, is "_per saltum_" in a minute, and 1,440 "_saltums_" per day! And further still, the Indian Ocean, from which the monsoons are drawn to Cobi and Central Asia to the N. E., is during those months covered by the belt of calms and rains, as heretofore stated; and the S. E. trades blowing into it are attributed to the suction created by the ascent of heated air _there_. So, then, the monsoons are blowing away from under the rainy belt, from 500 to 1000 miles, to Cobi and the burning plains of Asia, while the ascensive force of that belt is such as to draw the S. E. trades toward the very spot, a distance of 1,200 or 1,500 miles, at 20 miles an hour! What must the ascensive force over Cobi, etc., be, if, as a "stronger power," it can overcome an ascensive force over the Indian Ocean sufficient to draw the S. E. trades 1,500 miles, at 20 miles an hour; and, in addition to the force necessary to resist this central suction, not only stop or hold back the N. E. trade, but reverse it and draw it back, at 20 miles an hour, as a monsoon? Must it not be, at least, double that of the belt of calms, or the "great region of expansion," as Professor Dove calls it? Now, I am irresistibly tempted to ask whether a meteorological theory can be too absurd for credence, and whether it would not be as well to endow the deserts with ribs and lungs, and a proboscis long enough to reach the Indian Ocean, and the necessary power of inspiration and expiration? Such a theory would avoid all difficulties, conflict with no more analogies, and, in my judgment, be as much entitled to credit as the one to which meteorologists adhere.