The sense of danger, the instinct of self-preservation supposed
to be universal, was not in him, and there were occasions when this
extraordinary defect produced the keenest distress in my mother. In
hot summers we were subject to thunderstorms of an amazing violence,
and at such times, when thunder and lightning were nearest together
and most terrifying to everybody else, he would stand out of doors
gazing calmly up at the sky as if the blinding flashes and world-
shaking thunder-crashes had some soothing effect, like music, on his
mind. One day, just before noon, it was reported by one of the men
that the saddle-horses could not be found, and my father, with his
spy-glass in his hand, went out and ran up the wooden stairs to the
_mirador_ or look-out constructed at the top of the big barn-like
building used for storing wool. The _mirador_ was so high that
standing on it one was able to see even over the tops of the tall
plantation trees, and to protect the looker-out there was a high
wooden railing round it, and against this the tall flag-staff was
fastened. When my father went up to the look-out a terribly violent
thunderstorm was just bursting on us. The dazzling, almost continuous
lightning appeared to be not only in the black cloud over the house
but all round us, and crash quickly followed crash, making the doors
and windows rattle in their frames, while there high above us in the
very midst of the awful tumult stood my father calm as ever.
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