no
book of mine, should leave out all mention of the pearl. Luckily for
me, pearl-lore would fill half a dozen books and not then be exhausted,
so I need not repeat myself.
It
was as a humble young dealer in Hatton Garden that the urge to
adventure came to me, that strong, compelling urge like a kick in the
pants, which is produced by the fact that one's family is hungry and
growing. I had a chance to go pearl-hunting in the tough pearling
grounds in North-Western Australia, and I took it. From Australia the
chase for pearls led me in half a lifetime all around the world, but I
was a stone that rolled slowly enough to gather a minute quantity of
moss. At any rate, I have never regretted it. One looks back with a
strange satisfaction on the lonely and risky periods of one's life.
As
I was the first white trader ever to penetrate into the pearl fisheries
of the Sulu Seas, I still have a proprietary feeling about that part
of the world. An irra-
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