There was nothing behind them but a dour waste, a bog through which they had driven themselves with a lash of resolution.
Autumn passed on into winter without a change of expression in the benign face of nature.

Christmas day was as hot as if it had come in midsummer; the natives were as naked, the trees as fully clad.

The curious sun closed his great eye for a few hours in the twenty-four; the remainder of the time he glared down upon his victims with a malevolence that knew no bounds.

Soft, sweet winds came with the typhoon season, else the poor whites must have shrivelled and died while nature revelled.

Rain fell often in fitful little bursts of joyousness, but the hungry earth sipped its moisture through a million greedy lips, eager to thwart the mischievous sun.