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from those with which we are here conversant, it cannot hut be that many differences will exist between the buildings with which we are familiar, as suiting our climate, and such build ings as will suit the tropics ; and it will be our business to night to consider a few of these differences. First, we shall take into note some of the essential requirements for European life in a tropical climate, such as that of India; afterwards we shall consider a few of the peculiarities which will affect the actual erection of the buildings, and the most obvious of the difficulties to be apprehended. Throughout I must be under stood to refer to buildings for the use and occupation of Euro peans only ; my time is too short, and my information on the point too imperfect and fragmentary, for me to say anything on the interesting, though less important, subject of such buildings as are occasionally put up by Europeans in tropical countries for the use of natives. In each of the two heads of this inquiry, we shall be naturally led, as we go on, to notice such expedients and methods as may be best employed, or as have been actually found efficacious in meeting the needs which we shall discover. My own justification for bringing forward this subject is, that I have been obliged to make myself ac quainted with the requirements and circumstances of, at least, one tropical climate, that of Bombay. The Government of Bombay proposed in 1864, to erect the European hospital in that city, from designs which I had submitted in competition. This led to my visiting Bombay at the end of that year, and to my being associated with Mr. Trubshawe, the consulting ar chitect to the Bombay Government, in the preparation of W’orking drawings for several public and other buildings of importance : I can therefore offer you the results of some little practical experience ; and I hold it as almost a bounden duty of any member of this body, whose practice has led him to acquire information not readily accessible, and likely to prove .of some use, that he should come forward here, and contribute it to the common stock. It may provoke a smile to say that the great peculiarity of a tropical climate is, that it is very hot there, but, nevertheless, that is the great peculiarity, and the one point an architect must never forget, remembering that even what is called the cold season, is far hotter than our summer. It is also very light in such a climate ; at some period of the year it is further very wet, the rain falling at times in torrents, and the air being saturated with moisture ; but in the fine season it is ordinarily uninterruptedly fine, remaining so for long stretches of time. Climatic disturbances, however, when they come, arc violent; wind-stonns, dust-storms, thunder-storms, with driving rains— perhaps earthquakes—must be expected occasionally ; and such disturbances are more sudden in their visits, and more violent in their force than in our climate. Insect and reptile life are far more prominent within the tropics than here. Household pests there include such for midable enemies as the cobra, the scorpion, and the white ant. The white ant is an enemy of the most destructive powers. It eats almost all kinds of woods, and if the timber with which a house is built be such as it will devour, it will be not unlikely that all the woodwork of the house will be hollowed out and eaten away. The essential oils of one or two woods, such as teak and blackwood, seem to protect against them, but all ordinary wood is liable to be eaten by this ant. The damp of the monsoon time is a second powerful destructive agent; any unpainted or ungalvanized surface of iron, would be found oxidized to a remarkable extent; and whether it be this, or the saline particles of the air, or an extra dose of actinic power in the sunlight, I know not, but the climate of Bombay, though free from frost, appears to act almost as destructively on build ing stone, as that of London. The people, again, who will be about you in the tropics, are essentially different from Europeans. 'They will be all, or nearly all, natives; and if in India, all of various castes. The number of servants will be very great; they will dispense with most things that an European wants, but on the other hand, they will require some things which in Europe would not be thought of. No English gentleman, for example, would think of planting all round, his private house a sort of hamlet of little cabins for the wives and children of his servants, any more than he would dream of his valet being willing, under any emergency, to sleep on a mat outside his bedroom door, as a personal retainer might have done here in feudal times. In India both would seem very reasonable things. The people engaged on the work will also differ altogether in the notions of workmanship, and especially of accuracy and finish, from the European artizans for whom we are accustomed to make drawings. Their setting out will be defective, and their finish, to an European eye, faulty ; but on the other hand, if the right sort of men be found out, and employed in the right way, their ornamental work, obtainable in India even now, after long disuse has caused the higher branches of the art of building to languish, will be very beautiful, and much of the workman ship excellent. The joinery and cabinet work especially, exe cuted with very rough tools, and put together without glue, will surpass most English work for solidity and durability. To return, however, to the heat and light. Where the sun’s heat is so powerful that nothing but English pluck prevents the attempt to work being altogether given up, and between sunrise and sunset it is almost impossible for an European to expose himself safely to his rays—where walking a few hun dred yards, at mid-day, even under an umbrella, would be an exhausting and imprudent exertion for an European—where fresh air is the greatest essential of comfort, almost of life— where the glare of light is so intense that the smallest un shaded opening seems, in the hours of sunshine, to admit more brightness than is compatible with comfort—and where the main walls require to be screened, both from the pelting heat of the sun in the fine season, and the driving rains of the wet season, it is almost self-evident that rooms should be large and airy, windows and doors so open as to admit every breeze that blows, yet so shaded as to keep out as much of the light as possible, and that walls should be far thicker than is here necessary, and sheltered by some outer screen. Outside all the external walls, or, at any rate, on all sides open to the sun’s rays, a screen, called a verandah, is essential, and it becomes, in fact, the leading feature of buildings for the tropics. This may be best described as something like an ex ternal cloister, ordinarily about ten feet wide, the roof usually running over it in a continuous line, and overhanging it. The verandah is, of course, often constructed of slighter materials than the main wall, but, where practicable, it is better to be of masonry. It is, of course, desirable to have it as many storeys in height as the building, and covering most or all of the wall, but it admits of many variations, corbellings, projec tions, breaks, &c. The floors of the verandah should be water tight, and. should slope away from the building. Towards the quarter of the wet winds, it will be well to provide means of partly or entirely closing the openings ; this is usually effected by temporary matting, and some permanent contrivance for the purpose is rather a desideratum. In the daytime the floor of the verandahs, as, indeed, that of the rooms, is often sprinkled with water for coolness. These roomy appendages are not all lost space, advantage is taken of them when in shade, or catching the passing breeze, and then they serve as workrooms for native workpeople, or for lounging, smoking, walking, and even dining and sleeping in; Indian life, being much al fresco, and privacy little studied compared with com fort. The verandah, with its unglazed openings, its deep sha dow behind them, and its overhanging roof, affords the chief, and a remarkably fine, opportunity for external architectural treatment in any building for the tropics. In some of the more artistic native houses, it is beautifully treated in carved wood. As an example of the treatment of it in masonry, I may refer’ to the Mahommcdan buildings at Ahmedabad, shown in Mr. Hope’s photographs, or to the fine design of Mr. Burges, for the Bombay School of Art, which exemplifies excellently this, as well as many other points of the proper treatment for a building for the tropics. Allied to the verandah are cor belled balconies, and open oriels thrown out to catch the breeze, and afford a cool evening nook ; such features occur in the best Mahommedan work, and afford an excellent opportu nity for picturesque treatment. Behind the shelter of the verandah, the doors and windows should be spacious. The building should, if possible, be made to point so as to catch the prevalent breeze; for, in the tropics, winds often blow with a wonderful regularity from the same quarter for months together. And the building should, if possible, be so arranged, with rooms on suite from side to side, and openings opposite to openings, that the wind may blow quite through it, having windows opening down to the floor, and doors placed opposite the windows, and both made wide and high. The necessity for a through draught, and the use