Forgotten?
Your mother and I are always talking of the glad day when we can go home and live among them.

We get as homesick as small boys their first month at a boarding school.

Do you remember the day I left you at Lawrenceville, a forlorn and lonely kid ?--It's like that.
A wave of depression hangs over the land like a London fog.

And everybody on this tired-out side of the world shows a disposition to lean too heavily on us--to depend on us so completely that the fear arises that they may unconsciously relax their own utmost efforts when we begin to fight.

Yet they can't in the least afford to relax, and, when the time comes, I dare say they will not.