I do not
remember that anyone ever did me any great injustice, nor that I
was ever oppressed or ill treated in any way, even by the boys at
school. I was sad, I suppose, because my childhood was so gloomy,
and, later, because I was unlucky in everything I undertook, till I
finally believed I was pursued by fate, and I used to dream that
the old Welsh nurse and the Woman of the Water between them had
vowed to pursue me to my end. But my natural disposition should
have been cheerful, as I have often thought.
Among the lads of my age I was never last, or even among the last,
in anything; but I was never first. If I trained for a race, I was
sure to sprain my ankle on the day when I was to run. If I pulled
an oar with others, my oar was sure to break. If I competed for a
prize, some unforeseen accident prevented my winning it at the last
moment. Nothing to which I put my hand succeeded, and I got the
reputation of being unlucky, until my companions felt it was always
safe to bet against me, no matter what the appearances might be. I
became discouraged and listless in everything.
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