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M
ANY who have reached or passed the middle stage of life will remember with gratitude the healthy influence and good council of that prolific author, who, whilst writing under many names, was best known as "Old Humphrey." A couple of hundred books and a myriad of articles, verses and sketches flowed from the pen of George Mogridge, who more than forty years ago went to Hastings in search of health, but remained there to die.
Literary reputation is often fleeting, but many visitors to that ancient Cinque Port desire to see the grave of Old Humphrey.
Wending our way along the Marine Parade, thronged with holiday-makers, and surmounted by the hill on which stands the ruined walls of Hastings Castle, we thread the narrow High Street with its old world air and many quaint buildings, and then after looking at the picturesque, aloe-covered house that was so long the residence of Mr. Coventry Patmore, the poet, we turn into " Old Humphrey's Avenue," a shady |
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