| Author: | Miles Franklin | ISBN: | 1230000156298 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing | Publication: | June 22, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Miles Franklin |
| ISBN: | 1230000156298 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing |
| Publication: | June 22, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
The summer sun streamed meltingly down on the asphalted siding of the
country railway station and occasioned the usual grumbling from the
passengers alighting from the afternoon express.
There were only three who effect this narrative--a huge, red-faced,
barrel-like figure that might have served to erect as a monument to
the over-feeding in vogue in this era; a tall, spare, old fellow with
a grizzled beard, who looked as though he had never known a succession
of square feeds; and myself, whose physique does not concern this
narrative.
Having surrendered our tickets and come through a down-hill passage to
the dusty, dirty, stony, open space where vehicles awaited travellers,
the usual corner "pub."--in this instance a particularly dilapidated
one--and three tin kangaroos fixed as weather-cocks on a dwelling
over the way, and turning hither and thither in the hot gusts of wind,
were the first objects to arrest my attention in the town of Noonoon,
near the river Noonoon, whereaway it does not particularly matter. The
next were the men competing for our favour in the matter of vehicular
conveyance.
The big man, by reason of his high complexion, abnormal waist
measurement, expensive clothes, and domineering manner, which
proclaimed him really a lord of creation, naturally commanded the
first and most obsequious attention, and giving his address as
"Clay's," engaged the nearest man, who then turned to me.
"Where might you be going?"
"To Jimmeny's Hotel."
"Right O! I can just drop you on the way to Clay's," said he; and the
big swell grunted up to a box seat, while I took a position in the
body of the vehicle commanding a clear view of the grossness of the
highly coloured neck rolling over his collar.
The summer sun streamed meltingly down on the asphalted siding of the
country railway station and occasioned the usual grumbling from the
passengers alighting from the afternoon express.
There were only three who effect this narrative--a huge, red-faced,
barrel-like figure that might have served to erect as a monument to
the over-feeding in vogue in this era; a tall, spare, old fellow with
a grizzled beard, who looked as though he had never known a succession
of square feeds; and myself, whose physique does not concern this
narrative.
Having surrendered our tickets and come through a down-hill passage to
the dusty, dirty, stony, open space where vehicles awaited travellers,
the usual corner "pub."--in this instance a particularly dilapidated
one--and three tin kangaroos fixed as weather-cocks on a dwelling
over the way, and turning hither and thither in the hot gusts of wind,
were the first objects to arrest my attention in the town of Noonoon,
near the river Noonoon, whereaway it does not particularly matter. The
next were the men competing for our favour in the matter of vehicular
conveyance.
The big man, by reason of his high complexion, abnormal waist
measurement, expensive clothes, and domineering manner, which
proclaimed him really a lord of creation, naturally commanded the
first and most obsequious attention, and giving his address as
"Clay's," engaged the nearest man, who then turned to me.
"Where might you be going?"
"To Jimmeny's Hotel."
"Right O! I can just drop you on the way to Clay's," said he; and the
big swell grunted up to a box seat, while I took a position in the
body of the vehicle commanding a clear view of the grossness of the
highly coloured neck rolling over his collar.
