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d in my early youth evoked theWWW.henhengan.COM memories of that distant timWWW.henhengWWW.henhengan.COMan.COMe when everything was so fresh, so interesting; bits of strange coasts under the stars, men’s passions in the dusk, shadows of hills in the sunshine, perhaps, so venturesome, there still was in the world something to write about. Yet I did not see anything at first in the mere story. A rascal steals a large parcel of a valuable commodity — so people say. It’s, so surprising, gossip half-forgotten, faces grown dim. . . . Perhaps,