CONTENTS


[ CHAPTER I ]

[ CHAPTER II ]

[ CHAPTER III ]

[ CHAPTER IV ]

[ CHAPTER V ]

[ CHAPTER VI ]

[ CHAPTER VII ]

[ CHAPTER VIII ]

[ CHAPTER IX ]

[ CHAPTER X ]

[ CHAPTER XI ]

[ CHAPTER XII ]

[ CHAPTER XIII ]

[ CHAPTER XIV ]

[ CHAPTER XV ]

[ CHAPTER XVI ]

[ CHAPTER XVII ]




Illustrations


[ Frontispiece-portrait ]

[ Titlepage ]

[ Meredith1 ]

[ Meredith2 ]

[ Meredith3 ]

[ Meredith4 ]

[ Stevenson1 ]

[ Stevenson2 ]

[ Stevenson3 ]

[ Stevenson4 ]


RECOLLECTIONS

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CHAPTER I

The Unlucky Day of the Fool's Month—High Street, West
Bromwich—My First Pedestrian Triumph—The Common English
Bracken—The Sense of Beauty.

I remember that in a fit of petulance at some childish misdemeanour, my mother once told me that I came into the world on the unlucky day of the fool's month. It was her picturesque way of saying that I was born on the thirteenth of April. I have often since had occasion to think that there was a wealth of prophetic wisdom in the phrase which neither she nor I suspected at the time.

I did the world the poor service of being born into it in the year 1847, in a house not now to be identified in the straggling High Street of West Bromwich, which in those days was a rather doleful hybrid of a place—neither town nor country. It is a compact business-like town now, and its spreading industries have defaced the lovely fringe of country which used to be around it.