Nathan read the package of words in silence, his only motions the steady progress of his eyes and occasional replacement of pages. Allan sat nervously across from him in a chair Nathan had probably upholstered himself, a patchwork design of fabric containing easily more stuffing than any other furniture item of the period. At long last, Nathan reached the end and set down his reading on the table between them. Allan leaned forward unconsciously. "It's the best story you've ever written." Allan exhaled and leaned back into the chair, his face relaxing in imitation of his thoughts. "So," he asked, "you don't think it's a waste of ink and paper, a futile expedition into morbidity or literary debauchery?" "Heavens, no," said Nathan, aghast. "This is one of the strongest works I've read in ages. It speaks to the deepest storyteller's instinct within us all, yet is entirely original. My dear friend, you have done it. Oh, they may rail against you at first; they may decry you as a heathen or a literary savage; but while those in power say such things, others will read your tales and see their true worth. Believe me when I say that you will be read a century from now." Allan, though dubious as to that possibility, felt some temptation from the compliment; mainly, it granted him the encouragement he still needed. Nathan promised to show the story to a printer he knew and Allan left it with him, then walked home under the spreading maples with a smile lingering on his face. He felt now that perhaps Nathan was right; although the man was somewhat peculiar, he had both an unimpeachable honesty and a certain propensity for insight. Certainly, it was undeniable that the stories had an originality to them. His mind's strangest fruit had ripened at last, and he found the taste less bitter than expected. These thoughts and others like them filled his head as he walked the long road home. It was evening, and the sky burned orange in the west when he neared home at last.

Why did Allan let Nathan take the story?

You might want to know how cold it is. You may need to know how fast the wind is blowing. Maybe it rained last night? Do you know how much? Does it feel humid to you? You have heard all these questions before. To answer these questions, we need data. That data comes from special tools. These tools collect data about the weather. You can see some of the common tools listed below: A thermometer measures temperature. An anemometer measures wind speed. A rain gauge measures the amount of rain. A hygrometer measures humidity. A wind vane shows wind direction. A snow gauge measures the amount of snow.

What are two types of tools that collect wind data?

To protect its seagoing interests and trade routes, Portugal established strategic garrisons in Goa (India), Malacca (East Indies), and Hormuz in the Persian Gulf. Portuguese explorers then embarked upon Macau (now Macao), the Congo, and various other parts of Africa, including the Sudan. The Portuguese policy was to avoid armed strife and to develop a trade empire, rather than to conquer nations. To this end it succeeded with relatively few blood-soaked episodes in its colonial history. Adventures abroad, however, proved disastrous during the second half of the 16th century. In 1557 the 14-year-old boy-king Sebastiao ascended the throne, the beginning of a calamitous reign that was to end at the battle of Alcacer-Quiber (Morocco) in pursuit of a vain crusade. Sebastiao's untimely demise, alongside some 18,000 ill-prepared, badly led followers, set the stage for a crisis of succession. For many years afterwards, legends and rumors bizarrely insisted that the king was still alive, and imposters turned up from time to time claiming the throne; those who were plausible enough to be deemed a threat were summarily executed. In fact, the only rightful claimant to the crown was the elderly Prince Henry. But after two years of alternating between the throne and his sickbed, he died, heirless. Surveying the situation and smelling an opportunity, Spain occupied the power vacuum, and Portugal's neighbor and long-time antagonist became its master. Spanish rule dictated Portugal's inadvertent involvement in Spain's ongoing wars. In 1587 a squadron of British ships commanded by Francis Drake attacked the Algarve (now a "legitimate target" as Spanish territory) and sacked Sagres, thus depriving the world of the relics of Henry the Navigator. Nine years later Faro was torched. The 1386 Treaty of Windsor, by which Britain and Portugal had pledged eternal friendship, seemed a distant memory. Portugal's empire was gradually eroded, and many of its trading posts (with the notable exception of Brazil) were picked off by the British and Dutch. Finally, after 60 years of Spanish rule, Portuguese noblemen (aided by the French, then at war with Spain) organized a palace coup and restored independence. The Great Disaster Portugal's greatest misfortune struck on All Saint's Day, 1 November 1755.
What action by Francis Drake, made the 1386 Treaty of Windsor a distant memory?