References in classic literature ?
Weather in towns is like a skylark in a counting-house--out of place and in the way.
I can only hope that for this once he is correct, and that the weather really is doing good to something, because it is doing me a considerable amount of damage.
The weather is a thing that is beyond me altogether.
It tried its best, but the instrument was built so that it couldn't prophesy fine weather any harder than it did without breaking itself.
If that thing means anything useful, then it means that I should at once alter the course away, away to the devil somewhere, and come booming down on Fu-chau from the northward at the tail of this dirty weather that's supposed to be knocking about in our way.
Went around to dodge the bad weather,' I would say.
Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;four horses and four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had at home.
At Christmas every body invites their friends about them, and people think little of even the worst weather.
These are something like grievances, and make me think the weather most unseasonably close.
Towards evening, the weather turned hazy, with a drizzling rain; and soon became so thick, that we sailed, as it were, in a cloud.
In all weathers, fair or foul, calm or windy, we were every one on deck, walking up and down in pairs, lying in the boats, leaning over the side, or chatting in a lazy group together.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
The weather has not latterly been at all favorable.
On the 30th of September the sun came out in the morning, and hoping for fine weather, Levin began making final preparations for his journey.
The weather had become worse than ever towards evening; the hail lashed the drenched mare so cruelly that she went along sideways, shaking her head and ears; but Levin was all right under his hood, and he looked cheerfully about him at the muddy streams running under the wheels, at the drops hanging on every bare twig, at the whiteness of the patch of unmelted hailstones on the planks of the bridge, at the thick layer of still juicy, fleshy leaves that lay heaped up about the stripped elm-tree.