While these reminiscent pages were appearing serially I was remonstrated with for bad economy;as if such writing were a form of self-indulgence wasting the substance of future volumes.It seems that I am not sufficiently literary.Indeed,a man who never wrote a line for print till he was thirty-six cannot bring himself to look upon his existence and his experience,upon the sum of his thoughts,sensations,and emotions,upon his memories and his regrets,and the whole possession of his past,as only so much material for his hands.Once before,some three years ago,when I published "The Mirror of the Sea,"a volume of impressions and memories,the same remarks were made to me.Practical remarks.But,truth to say,I have never understood the kind of thrift they recommend.I wanted to pay my tribute to the sea,its ships and its men,to whom I remain indebted for so much which has gone to make me what I am.That seemed to me the only shape in which I could offer it to their shades.There could not be a question in my mind of anything else.It is quite possible that I am a bad economist;but it is certain that I am incorrigible.
第1章 A FAMILIAR PREFACE(1)（3 / 3）