| Month | Highest ° F. | Lowest ° F. | Average ° F. |
| January | 93.0 | 59.0 | 76.8 |
| February | 96.1 | 60.3 | 77.5 |
| March | 97.2 | 61.2 | 79.9 |
| April | 99.9 | 64.4 | 82.8 |
| May | 100.9 | 68.7 | 83.3 |
| June | 99.7 | 70.9 | 82.2 |
| July | 95.4 | 70.0 | 80.8 |
| August | 95.4 | 69.1 | 80.8 |
| September | 95.5 | 69.6 | 80.4 |
| October | 95.2 | 67.3 | 80.2 |
| November | 93.0 | 62.2 | 78.6 |
| December | 92.3 | 60.3 | 77.4 |
The highest temperature ever recorded at Manila is 103.5° Fahrenheit, in May, 1878; the next highest, 101.9° in May, 1912.
It should be remembered that there are no abrupt changes either between day and night or from season to season, and that one can therefore wear light, cool clothing throughout the year.
Far from being oppressive, the tropical nights are, as a rule, delightful. I know of nothing more satisfying in its way than a stroll in the moonlight on a hard beach of snow-white coral sand bordered by graceful cocoanut palms on the one hand and by rolling surf on the other.
The vegetation in the provinces is a constant delight. Unfortunately, in the immediate vicinity of Manila it is less attractive than in most other parts of the archipelago, but by crossing the bay to the Lanao forest on the slopes of Mariveles Mountain, or by taking an automobile ride to Atimonan, one may see it in all its magnificence. No word painter, however skilled, can convey any adequate idea of it.
Everywhere, both on land and at sea, one sees matchless greens and blues,—greens in the vegetation and in the water, blues in the water and in the sky. The cloud effects are often marvellously fine. I had begun to think that perhaps my prolonged residence in the Philippines had made me forget what was to be seen in other countries, but in 1913 I took the distinguished English vulcanologist, Dr. Tempest Anderson, on a trip with me, and his enthusiasm over the cloud views knew no bounds.
Philippine sunsets are unsurpassed and unsurpassable. I have repeatedly noted one remarkable effect which I have never seen elsewhere, namely the complete reflection in the east of the western evening sky. On the occasion when I first witnessed one of these extraordinary sights I could hardly believe my senses. I was at sea, and had taken a late afternoon siesta. When I awoke familiar landmarks showed me that I was looking due east, and yet I saw a magnificent sunset with wonderful beams of rays radiating from a dark cloud behind which it seemed that the sun must be hidden. A glance to the westward furnished the explanation of the mystery, for the view was duplicated there. I have seen similar wonderful sights several times.
A typhoon, or tropical cyclone, is often dreadfully destructive but is a most imposing thing to watch from a safe viewpoint, and the weather service in the Philippines is so excellent that if one observes such a storm from an unsafe viewpoint it is usually one’s own fault. The rush of the mighty waves at sea and their thunder on the shore, where they may dash up the cliffs for hundreds of feet, are awe inspiring. The resistless sweep of the wind, which sometimes attains a velocity of a hundred twenty miles an hour, or even more, makes one feel one’s insignificance. If one chances to be in the region over which the centre of the storm passes, there comes a sudden lull in the terrific gale, followed by a dead calm. Often the sun shines for a brief interval, and then, without warning, the wind renews its relentless assault, coming from a direction diametrically opposed to that from which it was blowing before the lull. The rainfall is often enormous. At such times rivulets are converted into roaring rivers, valleys into lakes.
A Day’s Catch.