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Geoffrey Hamlyn

Chapter 17 

Word Count: 3088    |    Released on: 18/11/2017

od

weary year. Not much that is noteworthy, I fear. The chronicle of a year's sickness

ived from the fit in whic

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Geoffrey Hamlyn
Geoffrey Hamlyn
“Near the end of February 1857, I think about the 20th or so, though it don’t much matter; I only know it was near the latter end of summer, burning hot, with the bushfires raging like volcanoes on the ranges, and the river reduced to a slender stream of water, almost lost upon the broad white flats of quartz shingle.”