A pallid sun, throttled by a veil of cloud at sixty-one parts in a hundred, cast its weakened rays upon the eastern slopes at the seventeenth hour, whilst the mercury in my barometer stood firm at nin…
The mercury in my barometer has begun its slow, deliberate descent—29.79 inches and falling—as if the very atmosphere exhales a weary sigh. Above, the sky is a heavy pall of storm clouds, 77 per cent …
A profound and crystalline stillness enshrouds the high crags, as if the very atmosphere holds its breath in anticipation. The sky, a vast obsidian vault, is strewn with stars that glitter with an alm…
The full moon, a wan and spectral lantern, rides high above the Carpathian canopy, its pale illumination filtering through a thin veil of cloud that drifts like gossamer from the valley mists. The sta…
A peculiar stillness, heavy as grave-earth, smothers the gorge this afternoon; the pine resin hangs sharp and unbroken in the damp air, and the distant crags stand mute beneath a sky of 56 per cent cl…
A pallid, wounded sun struggles through a veil of light mountain mist, casting its anaemic rays upon the crags as the mercury in my barometer holds its breath at 29.90 inches, steady as a coffin lid. …