The total rainfall amounts only to 7·86 ins. (198 mm.), falling on 29·2 days in the year, but the amount and distribution is very capricious, varying greatly in different years. In so far, however, as Massawa can be said to possess a rainy season at all, the wet weather comes in the winter, instead of about August, as is normally the case in the Tropics of the Northern Hemisphere.

Sometimes a whole year may be practically rainless, as for example 1885, in which only 41·2 mm. (about 1¹⁄₂ ins.) was collected, whereas 1891 had the respectable rainfall of 500 mm. (or 19¹⁄₂ ins.). Apparently, however, it never rains in June.

Owing to the antiseptic powers of the intense light and heat, the place is singularly free from zymotic diseases, the cases of fever being usually not malarial, but truly climatic.

For the greater part of the year the skin is kept in a continuous bath of perspiration, and accordingly prickly heat in its most acute form, with the usual sequel of boils, is very common; as also, of course, are heatstroke and less acute forms of nervous prostration. During the continuance of the Kamsin Dr. Petella finds that the temperature of even strong and healthy individuals is raised distinctly above the normal.

The extreme character of the climate of Suakim, the frequent scene of British military activity, may be gathered from the following nearly complete table for portions of the years 1902-1903.

No European constitution could, however, endure such climates for any considerable time with impunity without periods of relief in a more moderate climate, and it is therefore fortunate that, owing to configuration of the Colony of Erythrea, the inland portion of which for the most part consists of elevated plateaux and mountains; these extreme conditions of heat and moisture are limited to a comparatively narrow belt of country, consisting of plains formed of slightly elevated coral formation, and the foothills which gradually rise to elevations at which the climate is necessarily temperate, some of the peaks reaching over 7,000 feet above the sea.

The progressive improvement of climate as one gains increasing elevations, even where that at the sea-level is of the most extreme character, is instructively shown in the table on next page, taken from Dr. Petella’s pamphlet.

In these elevated regions, a little away from the coast, there is a definite, though not very abundant, rainy season, and the direction of the prevailing winds is normal for these latitudes, i.e., north-east during the winter and south-west during the monsoon, which, however, breaks a good deal later here than at corresponding latitudes on the eastern side of the Arabian sea. More complete data of Addi Ugri, an Italian sanatorium on one of these Erythrean hill-stations, are extracted below from a pamphlet by Captain Tancredi, an Engineer officer.

The hottest time of the year is, it will be noticed, in the spring, and the rainy season takes place at the normal time in July and August, after the setting in of the south-west monsoon. There is also a secondary period of rainfall about February and March, corresponding to our “chota bursat” in India.

From the inspection of the table on next page it will be seen that the climate must be an exceptionally pleasant one, the mean temperature of the year corresponding to that of Southern Italy, though the range of temperature is less than a third of that of Palermo and other Mediterranean ports. The climate is also said to be very healthy, though there is generally a certain amount of malaria to be met with about the drying up of the rains. Its uniformity and mildness, coupled as it is with great dryness, suggests that the site might well be utilised for certain forms of chest disease.

Travelling, however, in Somaliland is necessarily arduous, as the country is nearly impassable during the short rainy season, and intense heat and great suffering have to be encountered in the low-lying valleys, owing to the waterless character of the country and the intensely desiccating effects of the air, which, elsewhere than on the coast, is intensely dry. The frequent dust storms are also a source of much discomfort and even of danger.

Once issued from the Red Sea and arrived in the Gulf of Aden, things begin to improve, as although the thermometer may show but little difference from the conditions left behind in the Red Sea, it is at once felt that the heat is of quite a different kind, and that it is not, as Gilbert’s heroine would describe it, “such a stuffy class of death.” There is nearly always a fresh sea breeze, and for several months of the year the climate is much less oppressive than that of Bombay, especially in the spring. Strange as it may appear to those who have only seen the grim fortress from the sea, Aden seems to have a queer fascination about it, and is generally rather liked than otherwise, many preferring to serve there to remaining in Bombay.

The Asiatic Continent.

—Owing to the fact that the distinction between Europe and Asia is a purely geographical convention, and that the area of the eastern extremity of the Mediterranean is of too small an area to exercise any marked influence, we find that once the Syrian shore is left behind we are at once under typical intra-continental weather conditions, with a wide range of temperature, and a rainfall either small or almost non-existent. Speaking generally, these arid conditions prevail over the whole of south-western Asia, from the coast of Palestine till we have crossed the five waters of the Punjab, and within these limits there are many places that can put the maximum thermometers of even Omdurman and Suakim to shame.

The scanty rainfall is almost confined to the hills, so that cultivation in the lower lands depends more or less completely on irrigation from the rivers that have their origin in the mountain masses, which attract to their peaks the lion’s share of the little moisture obtainable. On this account the greater part of western tropical Asia is desert, but in spite of this under-irrigation, Mesopotamia was once the granary of the world, and might still, under a more enlightened government, soon regain her position.

Palestine.

—On account of its petty area, the whole of Palestine must be considered as a part of the Mediterranean littoral, and hence enjoys a moderate rainfall, which, combined with almost continuous sunshine, without really excessive heat at any period of the year, renders the enthusiasm with which this little land is described by the sacred writers easily understood.

The following table will give some idea of the amount and distribution of the rainfall:—

At Jerusalem the annual extremes of temperature are from 101·7° F. (38·7° C.) to just above freezing point, while on the sea-coast the range of climate is rather less marked.

The following table, adapted, like the preceding, from Hann, epitomises most of the necessary temperature data:—

Between the cultivations of Syria and Mesopotamia there stretches a wide extent of desert country of which, as yet, but little is known, as it is even now, not altogether too safe a land to travel in.

In the upper part of the Euphrates valley, at Mosul, which, to save space, is included in the two above tables, the climate, though hotter in summer, does not differ to any great extent from that of Palestine. The rainfall is, however, very much smaller and absolutely confined to the winter.

Of the lower and better known part of the valley; once the granary of the world, and even now a rich country; the climate of Bagdad, lat. circa 33° 30′ N., in Turkish Arabia, may serve as a specimen.

The intense heat and dryness of the summer months are very noticeable, but the locality does not suffer from hot nights to the same extent as parts of Northern India.

Persian Gulf.

—The delights of service in this inland sea are only too well known to most of H.M.’s Indian Marine, and to many naval officers, but it must be remembered that although the climate presents much resemblance to that of the Red Sea, the Gulf corresponds to the northern end of those unpleasant waters, and that in winter the climate is further tempered by breezes from the high Persian plateau, so that in the cold weather it would be difficult to choose a more pleasant scene for a yachting cruise, coral reefs and Arabs permitting, and it is only from the middle of June to that of October that anything like the stew-pan of the southern Red Sea is met with. This, combined with the circumstance that the passage of the Gulf should only last half as long as that of the Red Sea, is one of the strongest arguments in favour of the adoption of the Euphrates valley as a rapid route of communication with the East. The climate may best be realised by an inspection of the climatic table for Bushire, which is included in the following brief note on the climate of Persia.

Persia is continental and sub-tropical in geographical position, but does not, as a matter of fact, for the most part, properly come under the category of hot climates, as, with the exception of “the Dashtistan,” or narrow belt of recently upheaved coral forming the northern shore of the Gulf, the whole country is a mountainous mass, the lowest portions of which are sufficiently elevated to bring them, from the point of view of climate, within the temperate zone. For practical purposes the country is absolutely without roads, the tracks that connect the various towns being merely made by the constant passage of travellers without any assistance whatever from art, and was probably a good deal more “advanced” two thousand years ago than it is now. On this account travelling is a very slow business, and any one proposing to visit the country must necessarily be prepared for a somewhat extended stay. As all routes cross over a succession of passes which often closely approach the snow-line, intending visitors should bring not merely clothes suitable for an English winter, but some fur-lined garment, such as is used by an automobilist, only slit behind so as to be wearable when mounted, as any one unprovided with a semi-arctic outfit may have to endure a good deal of suffering in surmounting the passes even during the summer.

Properly provided, however, travel in Persia offers many attractions, as the people are a pleasant, intelligent race, who make excellent camp servants in any capacity but as cooks, for which an Indian servant is better suited if obtainable. They are often spoken of as “the French of the East,” and there is no doubt a good deal of justification for the parallel, but, however this may be, they are not at present likely to produce an Oriental Soyer.

The Dashtistan is simply an emerged portion of the coral bed of the Persian Gulf, and the abominable character of its climate goes far to counterpoise the bright, temperate weather of the rest of the country. It is often no more than 20 miles or less wide, and is badly off for fresh water, most of the wells being brackish. Even here, the cold weather is extremely pleasant, so that one is glad to sit over a big coal fire in February in rooms not directly warmed by the sun, and there is nothing much to complain of till early June—the earlier hot months being rendered quite endurable by strong breezes which make punkahs quite needless. This, however, is succeeded by a period of intense, damp, breathless heat, entirely unassuaged by a drop of rain, which requires to be endured to be thoroughly appreciated.

The climax of discomfort is attained somewhere about the middle of August, but it is well on in October before any very decided improvement sets in, the hot weather being thus prolonged far on into the autumn. Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that cases of heat apoplexy are far from uncommon, but fortunately there is comparatively little malaria, though digestive disturbances arising from the brackishness of drinking water are naturally rather common. There is nothing like the proportion of cases of eye diseases that is to be met with in Egypt, but the intense glare and the sparseness of the vegetation make the use of neutral-tinted spectacles very advisable.

The following table of the temperature and rainfall of Bushire (Abusher) will serve as a sufficient example of the climate of the Dashtistan generally:—

The Dashtistan forms, however, a very small percentage of the area of Persia, as its level plain is abruptly succeeded by the mountains, which rise, terrace over terrace, to a height of 5,000 to 6,000 feet, and once the plateau of Fars is reached the traveller finds himself in surroundings which, although suffering a good deal from the scarcity of water, have much to recommend them in the purity and dryness of the air, and which would no doubt be thoroughly healthy under a decently sanitary régime. At present the country is out of the question for purposes of health, as one requires to be pretty “hard bitten” to get about it at all; but assuming the introduction of the amenities of civilisation there can be little doubt as to its suitability for the treatment of pulmonary disorders; and even as matters stand, I cannot recall meeting with cases of tuberculous disease amongst the natives of the country.

Owing to the very different levels, it is difficult to give any general idea of the climate, but the climate of two of the principal towns given below must suffice as a sufficient example.

The better rainfall of Teheran is no doubt due to its proximity to the Caspian, but in both places the climate is typically continental, both the daily and annual ranges of temperature being very considerable.

The climate of Beluchistan resembles closely that of Persia in its general characters, but owing to the generally lower level of the country the temperature is necessarily higher, approaching that of the Dashtistan.

Arabian Peninsula.

—With the exception of Muskat, which does not differ very markedly from the other Gulf ports, we have no reliable information as to the climate of Arabia proper, beyond the fact that it is a hot and arid land. The climate of the southern coast is, however, much more tolerable than that of the Persian Gulf, owing to the influence of the south-western monsoon, during the worst months.

India and Ceylon.

—If we draw a line from Karachi, at the mouth of the Indus, to those of the Hughli, a little south of Calcutta, it will be found that we have divided the irregular diamond-formed outline of the country into two triangles, the upper or northern of which may be called the continental, and the lower the peninsular triangle. We also find that the dividing line coincides pretty accurately with the Tropic of Cancer, and that, therefore, all to the north of it is sub-tropical, while in the southern triangle there is, as one travels south, an increasingly marked tendency to a duplication of the rainy season and of weather conditions generally, with a resulting general uniformity of climate throughout the year, while the proximity of the sea ensures that the daily range of temperature will be also small. North of this, therefore, there is a distinct “cold weather,” while to the south this pleasant climatic interlude can scarcely be said to exist. One of my predecessors, writing at the end of the eighteenth century, in the course of some 300 very sober pages devoted to life and habits in India, perpetrated “with deeficulty” a single joke. He devotes a table of some six lines to the elucidation of the subject of climate, the columns being headed, Hot—Cold—Rainy Seasons. Opposite Madras the first column stated, “Begins January 1, ends December 31.” From his ill-concealed contempt of Madras and Bombay “presidencies” I am sure this old “Qui hai” hailed from “the Bengal side,” but, prejudice apart, there is a good deal of truth in the impeachment.

Taking first the northern or sub-tropical triangle, we find that it presents a much greater variety of climate than can be found to the south, for while its north-western side is intensely dry and arid, the eastern angle of the triangle contains the wettest spot in the world. This triangle includes, too, within its boundaries another “record,” viz., that for extreme heat. The man who “sent back for his blankets” resided, I believe during life, somewhere in the United States; but I fear he must have been a person of comparatively small endurance, as in the entire American continent there is no spot that in the matter of heat is in the same field with Jacobabad, where 127° F. (52·8° C.) in the shade has actually been registered, and, in fact, the whole of Scind easily “licks creation” in this unenviable detail.

The northern triangle may be divided into three distinct climatic regions, viz.:—

(1) The Persian frontier zone, including the Punjab, Scind and Rajputana.

(2) The Old North-west zone, containing Oudh, Rohilkhand, Benares, &c., Behar, and a good deal of Central India.

(3) Lower Bengal, including Assam.

It must not, of course, be imagined that there is any distinct line of demarcation between these “zones,” as each climate, of course, shades off gradually into the next, but this division greatly facilitates description.

The Persian frontier zone, especially in its western portion, closely resembles Persia in climate, and gives one a very good notion of what that country would be, were it not an elevated plateau. Excluding, of course, from consideration the Himalayas and Suleiman Range, its highest part, near Rawal Pindi, is only about 1,700 feet above the sea (E.M., 530), which is too little to sensibly modify the temperature.

Along the actual north-west frontier, the rainfall is very small and the summer heat intense. The daily range is very small at the worst time of the year, as the arid soil gets so baked during the day that it is able to give out an ample supply of heat to make the short night intolerable, without having time to cool down to any appreciable extent. The few scanty showers that occur relieve matters for a few hours only, after which the only trace of their passage is an increased dampness of the air, with the concomitant exacerbation of “prickly heat.” In certain places situated in some of the confined valleys that are to be found at the foot of the Suleiman Range, the heat, day and night, is perfectly appalling. Unfortunately, some of these choice localities are of administrative importance, as affording the best alignment for our railways, and their continuous occupation by a number of unfortunate European officials and by a native staff little better able to bear it, is an unfortunate necessity.

In one of these pleasant spots the Anglo-Indian community are said to save themselves from the sun during the day by sitting beneath the Club billiard table, still wearing their solar hats, to cut off certain of the rays that have found their way through the slate bed of the table, and there is a good deal of foundation in fact for the “yarn,” as one requires to have lived there to have any adequate conception of what it is like. For seven months in the year indeed the climate is extremely trying, but as some compensation the cold weather, which lasts a full five months, at Peshawar in the north is most enjoyable and goes far to brace up residents to bear the horrors of the hot season.

At Peshawar I have been glad to sit over a blazing fire all day at the end of February, and even in Scind there are some three months of very pleasant weather. In the Eastern Punjab there is, however, a much more respectable rainfall, and the climate closely approaches that of the next zone. During the cold weather the daily range of temperature is considerable, so that if chills are to be avoided it is necessary to put on additional clothing after sunset.

The Old North-west, so called because up to “the forties” it formed our actual frontier, has in many ways the best climate to be found in the plains of India, the best part of the area being undoubtedly the Rohilkhand division. During the hot weather, it is true, the heat rivals that of the Punjab, and one may at times have a long succession of hot nights, but the worst is over by the middle of June, as with the “bursting of the monsoon” comes a great and welcome relief, which in good years is kept up through the rest of the warm weather. When, however, a “break in the rains” of any duration occurs, the climate for the time becomes, if anything, more trying than the contemporaneous conditions in the Punjab. The cold weather, however, goes on for four months, and affords one of the finest climates in the world for those who are not enthusiasts for the miseries of ice and snow.