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there still was in the world something to write about.,ut thrWWW.54yinmin.COMee pages of his autWWW.54yinmin.COMobiography. Nothing to speak of; but as I loWWW.54yinmin.COMoked them over, perhaps, so surprising, faces grown dim. . . . Perhaps, so venturesome, shadows of hills in the sunshine, gossip half-forgotten, the curious confirmation of the few casual words heard in my early youth evoked the memories of that distant time when everything was so fresh, men’s passions in the dusk, so interesting; bits of strange coasts under the stars,