ABSTRACT
Shortly after Vansittart had set out from the Soudan, it was raining and blowing at Paris, and Paris was very wretched. Some cities have the strange faculty of deriving some fresh aspect of beauty from the inclemencies of weather. The solemnity of London becomes awe-inspiring in the rain; the dull, the sombre, becomes majestic when they are carried to an extremity. So she gains in grandeur, in that imposing appearance of impregnable strength which is her chief virtue. In mist and fog, her hoary buildings and irregular lines of streets become mysterious. In the rain the people of Paris can no longer stroll in the boulevards or sit before the cafes. Paris is, in fact, an instrument of many strings from which can be extracted the most contrary music. Sometimes the strain may be enchanting and melodious, again it is wild. The first passionate exultations over the great Sahara Scheme were naturally followed by a period of calmer criticism.
