seemed very young, and later I met boys and girls nearer to my own age
in years; but they grew, while my father remained always the same.
The hair about his temples was turning grey, and when you looked close
you saw many crow's feet and lines, especially about the mouth. But
his eyes were the eyes of a boy, his laugh the laugh of a boy, and his
heart the heart of a boy. So we were very close to each other.

In a narrow strip of ground we called our garden we would play a
cricket of our own, encompassed about by many novel rules, rendered
necessary by the locality. For instance, all hitting to leg was
forbidden, as tending to endanger neighbouring windows, while hitting
to off was likewise not to be encouraged, as causing a temporary
adjournment of the game, while batter and bowler went through the
house and out into the street to recover the ball from some predatory
crowd of urchins to whom it had evidently appeared as a gift direct
from Heaven. Sometimes rising very early we would walk across the
marshes to bathe in a small creek that led down to the river, but this
was muddy work, necessitating much washing of legs on the return home.
And on rare days we would, taking the train to Hackney and walking to
the bridge, row up the river Lea, perhaps as far as Ponder's End.

But these sports being hedged around with difficulties, more commonly
for recreation we would take long walks. There were pleasant nooks
even in the neighbourhood of Plaistow marshes in those days. Here and
there a graceful elm still clung to the troubled soil. Surrounded on
all sides by hideousness, picturesque inns still remained hidden
within green walls where, if you were careful not to pry too
curiously, you might sit and sip your glass of beer beneath the oak
and dream yourself where reeking chimneys and mean streets were not.
During such walks my father would talk to me as he would talk to my