The Harbours
OF course, I had a look at the harbours, and I saw so many of them that now I mix them up. Well, wait a bit, Folkestone, London, Leith, Glasgow—that’s four; then Liverpool, Bristol, Plymouth, and possibly there are others. The finest one is Plymouth, which is beautifully bored out between rocks and islands, and where they have an old harbour in the Barbican with real sailors, fishermen and black barks, and a new harbour beneath the Hoe promenade with captains, statues and striped lighthouse. I have drawn this lighthouse, but the drawing does not show that the night is pale blue, that the sea is asparkle with the green and red lamps of ships and buoys, that I am sitting beneath the light house with a black cat on my lap—I mean a real cat—that I am stroking the sea, the
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