Towards the following morning, the thermometer fell to 5°; and at daylight, there was not an atom of water to be seen in any direction.

The Commissioner, ascetic-looking, an Oxford graduate, narrow-shouldered and elderly, tired-eyed and bespectacled like the scholar he was, like the scientist he was, shrugged his shoulders.

For ah! whatever evils lodge with youth, Like caterpillars on the leaves of spring, It of its essence counts the lip of truth, The honest tongue that wears no forken sting, The heart untouched by Care's prevailing […]

Dear, dear! Whatever were they thinking?