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there was nothing more in the world to write about.

This so strangely negative but disturbinbqqq.cf.COMg mood lasted some little time; and thebqqq.cf.COMn, I hearbqqq.cf.COMd the story of some man who was suppose, when very young, few, for my contacts with land were short, and fleeting, as with many of my longer stories, the first hint for “Nostromo” came to me in the shape of a vagrant anecdote completely destitute of valuable details.

As a matter of fact in 1875 or ‘6, in the West Indies or rather in the Gulf of Mexico,