I have neither an ocean voyage nor six kinds of meat and two meat pies and currants.

I congratulate myself and write to you and mother.
You'll land to-morrow or next day--good; I congratulate you.

Salute the good land for me and present my respectful compliments to vegetables that have taste and fruit that is not sour--to the sunshine, in fact, and to everything that ripens and sweetens in its glow.
And you're now (when this reaches you) fixing up your home--your _own_ home, dear Kitty.

Bless your dear life, you left a home here--wasn't it a good and nice one ?--left it very lonely for the man who has loved you twenty-four years and been made happy by your presence.

But he'll love you twenty-five more and on and on--always.