[Following the Equator by Mark Twain]@TWC D-Link bookFollowing the Equator CHAPTER XXXVI 8/11
He stretched himself out on the front seat and rested his pomatum-cake on the middle arm, and stuck his feet out of the window, and began to pose as the Prince and work his dreams and languors for exhibition; and he would indolently watch the blue films curling up from his cigarette, and inhale the stench, and look so grateful; and would flip the ash away with the daintiest gesture, unintentionally displaying his brass ring in the most intentional way; why, it was as good as being in Marlborough House itself to see him do it so like. There was other scenery in the trip.
That of the Hawksbury river, in the National Park region, fine--extraordinarily fine, with spacious views of stream and lake imposingly framed in woody hills; and every now and then the noblest groupings of mountains, and the most enchanting rearrangements of the water effects.
Further along, green flats, thinly covered with gum forests, with here and there the huts and cabins of small farmers engaged in raising children.
Still further along, arid stretches, lifeless and melancholy.
Then Newcastle, a rushing town, capital of the rich coal regions.
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