lofting itself massively into the low-hanging clouds of the sky. In the early drab twilight it looked like an immense old gray elephant erecting himself somberly on his front legs, his haunches lost in the green bedding of his lair. The mountain seemed wise and powerful, and terrifying in its size. Gallagher stared at it in absorption, caught by a sense of beauty he could not express. The idea, the vision he always held of something finer and neater and more beautiful than the moil in which he lived trembled now, pitched almost to a climax of words. There
Gallagher was captivated by the towering mountain that loomed before him in the dim light of dawn. It appeared like an ancient, majestic elephant rising from its resting place, shrouded in mist and blending into its surroundings. The mountain exuded a sense of wisdom and power, instilling both admiration and fear due to its immense size.
As Gallagher gazed at this awe-inspiring sight, he felt a profound sense of beauty that eluded his ability to define. The vision of something more magnificent than his mundane existence stirred within him, reaching a peak of emotion that almost demanded expression. This mountain, with its grandeur, challenged his perception of the world he inhabited.
