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C H A P T E R X X X I
E N VOYAGE
IV T IN E o’clock of a January morning, and I am
-L \ l abroad upon the great expanse of the Salwin.
The river, of a grey-green colour, winds away through
vast savannahs, flanked on the distant west by the
Zingyaik range, and on the east by the Zway-kabyin
peaks, and the far, faint outline of loftier mountains. As
we progress, fresh hills rise up like the phantasms of a
dream ; strange, shadowy, and tragic in form.
But the near banks are clothed with rare beauty,
with waving grasses, and forests of wild cotton trees in
bloom. At this season, they break into a splendour
of cardinal blossomy but are devoid of foliage. The
rich tracery of their boughs is cut with the clarity of
a cameo against the blue mountains and the momentary
glory 'of the sunset.
We stop at little villages by the way, to pick up
passengers; and the village girls come down to the
ship’s edge, with trays of green papayas and red plums,
bosom deep in the river ; and they laugh as they sink
yet deeper in efforts to reach the passengers on board.
Each of these, leaning forward over the rails, takes