On May 28, about eleven in the morning, one of
those extraordinary storms came up, of which there
have been so many in London this year. In the Temple
gardens, it is true, the rainfall was but slight, but not
so the gloom. Indeed, for a while it grew so dark in
the tents that the colours of the flowers could no longer
be distinguished, and I could scarcely see the faces of
the people standing next to me. This circumstance and
the earliness of the hour prevented the place from being
overcrowded, so that when the light grew again I was
able to make my round in comfort.
Certainly, it was a glorious Show, and to attempt to
describe it in detail here would be hopeless, so I will
only mention a few of the things that struck me most.
