Huge Table Mountain rises high over the town, its steep slopes
wooded with forests of pine and oak. Gorge-like narrow passages wind
into the upright precipices of rock and separate them into great
pinnacles of grey stone. I clambered up there a few days ago, through
hot-smelling pine woods, heaths of all sorts, evergreens and flowers,
clear water like Scotch burns coming down among the rocks with its toss
of white froth and amber pools, and such a view, when one got to the
top, down over the whispering woods and out over the flat sea!
The sea was the thing that beat all--"the great sea perfect as a
flower,"--the sight of it was a stab. There are great four-masted
barques and full-rigged ships lying at the wharfs and outside--double
t'gallant yarders, my boy; I yelled at them by way of greeting down
across the tree-tops.
Nearer in lies a long black steamer, a transport. She is an ugly looking
old tub, but in my eyes perfect. Handsome is as handsome does. She takes
us home to-morrow, my pony and me.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of With Rimington, by L. March Phillipps
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