Excerpt from Paul Carah, Cornishman

In a cloudless autumn sky the sun was dropping to the horizon; and the moorland, brown and uncomely all day, was beginning to brighten into brief beauty. As the western glow deepened, an answering flush spread over the face of the upland. The withered heather showed unsuspected tints of red and gold; the pale yellow of the gorse grew to a rich orange; the pools by the roadside shone and glittered. This dull patch on earths garment grew lively with colour; its flat monotony took feature as the shadows lengthened; and in the lucid air its oppressive immensity shrank into more comfortable bounds.

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