Fair was life's promise, scanty are its sheaves;
What are its laurels, but a few sere leaves
Withering beneath our feet."
I will, however, cease to moralise, and will conclude with this thought which, I think, forms an appropriate preface to an autobiography.
How much greater would be the sum total of human happiness if men would accept as their guide the experience of those who had gone before! How many disasters might be avoided! How many successful careers might be shaped and built up! But I suppose as long as men are as they are they will refuse to accept the experience of others, but will make their own, and through blunders and mistakes a certain proportion will arrive at success, but a larger proportion will struggle on, on the ragged edge and under the cold shade of adversity until the end of their days.
W. B. F.
Bromborough Hall,
Cheshire,
January 21st, 1910.