The genuineness of the courtesy, the real kindness and the hospitality of the English are beyond praise and without limit.

In this they show a strange contradiction to their dickering habits in trade and their "unctuous rectitude" in stealing continents.

I know a place in the world now where they are steadily moving their boundary line into other people's territory.

I guess they really believe that the earth belongs to them.
Sincerely, W.H.P.
To Arthur W.Page[18] Gordon Arms Hotel, Elgin, Scotland.
September 6, 1913.
Dear Arthur: Your mother and Kitty[19] and I are on our way to see Andy[20].

Had you any idea that to motor from London to Skibo means driving more than eight hundred miles?
Our speedometer now shows more than seven hundred and we've another day to go--at least one hundred and thirty miles.