We got down to the dock in very good time, though of course with a
good deal of bother, but we've not got _rooked_ anywhere.

I am afraid you will not hear from us again till the letters bear a
foreign post mark.

With best love and wishes to everybody,

Your loving Son,
J. SETON COCKBURN.




My Dearest Mother,

I suppose we are both addressing our letters to you, which might at
first appear an unequal distribution of our favours, but as I know
they will be read aloud to the assembled breakfast table, it is a
small matter who opens the envelope. To begin with, I should explain
that I am writing in the saloon of the S.S. "Montreal," Sunday
evening, August 30th (I believe), and it is due to the constructural
defects thereof that my writing is of a somewhat shaky character,
the above saloon being placed almost immediately over the propeller,
whose various eccentricities in the way of jumping and shaking are
more than distinctly felt. However, I do not want to begin by
telling you about the end of our voyage, so I will make a
commencement at the time we lost sight of the heads and hats of
those who saw us off at Dawlish Station. I feel rather ashamed to
say I felt at that time very little depression of spirits, perhaps