Explore "The Sowers" by Henry Seton Merriman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was not now a very cold night. There were fleecy clouds thrown like puffs of smoke against the western sky. The moon, on the wane -- a small crescent lying on its back -- was lowering toward the horizon. The thermometer had risen since sunset, as it often does in March. There was a suggestion of spring in the air. It seemed that at last the long winter was drawing to a close; that the iron grip of frost was relaxing.
Paul went out and inspected the harness by the light of a stable lantern held in the mittened hand of a yamshchik. He had reasons of his own for absenting himself while Catrina bade her mother farewell. He was rather afraid of these women.