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MOST of us sometimes, I suppose, observe some small boy engrossed upon his youthful affairs and wonder what he'll become, what he'll make of himself or what life will make of him, and what sort of man he will be to look upon, after forty years. W. E. Henley has left us a selfportrait of himself when young, topped by a broadribanded leghorn, antic in girlish broideries and wearing silly little shoes with straps, carrying home a great treasure, a booka Book with agitating cuts of ghouls and genies and, for background to that picture from memory of the boy he was, are the docks of Gloucester thronged with galliots and luggers, brigantines and barques that came in those days to her very doorsteps and geraniums.
Library Review – Emerald Publishing
Published: Mar 1, 1933
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