***之前读这篇的英文，似懂非懂，却深受那种情绪感染，终于读到完整的中译，很有些感动。日子，挺烦的， 然后，那个灯， 就被拨亮了一点点。。。
These boys congregated every autumn about a certain easterly fisher-village,
where they tasted in a high degree the glory of existence.
The place was created seemingly on purpose for the diversion of young gentlemen.
A street or two of houses, mostly red and many of, them tiled;
a number of fine trees clustered about the manse and the kirkyard, and turning the chief street into a shady alley;
many little gardens more than usually bright with flowers;
nets a-drying, and fisher-wives scolding in the backward parts; a smell of fish, a genial smell of seaweed;
whiffs of blowing sand at the street-corners;
shops with golf-balls and bottled lollipops;
another shop with penny pickwicks (that remarkable cigar) and the LONDON JOURNAL,
dear to me for its startling pictures, and a few novels, dear for their suggestive names: such, as well as memory serves me, were the ingredients of the…
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