344 EARLY REMINISCENCES to go free ; often enough, however, under the heavy blows he succumbed, and then his body was cast forth on a dung-hill. Every author, especially one who is autobiographical, has to run the gauntlet. There are about seventy-six newspapers and reviews published in London, which would be likely to criticize such a book as this, and the author must anticipate obtaining a whack from each. But if an author be wise he accepts a piece of salutary criticism and rejects the rest, which is usually ignorant, and abusive when most ignorant. As for any running the gauntlet of his Second Series, that will not cause a bruise or gain him a brand or a broken bone, for he will probably then be in his grave. I write this Envoi on the day upon which I have buried the last, save myself, of Old Lew Trenchard, the widow of the ancient clerk. None now left save the few children and many grandchildren of the antique race. So I feel like the last leaf spoken of in Christabel: " There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky." 3 March, 1921.
