229 West 34 St. New York
January 30, 1883.
Laurence Hutton and I have just dined. He goes aboard with me to see me off, he has engaged a man whom he knows, to take my traps to the steamer.
Hutton's latest bit of good humour, which I tell partly for Clarence's benefit. Hutton has invented a delicious cocktail of gin and vermouth. Gin, you know, is made partly of juniper, and vermouth is made of wormwood. A few days ago Julian Hawthorne and his wife were staying here. Hutton proposed a cocktail and offered Mrs. Hawthorne some, but she declined as her head ached. Hutton thinks his beverage good for a headache; so he told her very gravely that he would recommend "juniper and wormwood" for a headache, and he went to the cupboard and mixed it up for her, and she drank it and said she felt better. Then Hutton, with perfect gravity, turned to Julian—who was ready to split—and said "Now, you and I will take some gin and vermouth!" If that isn't the very drollery of tact, what is?
Jan. 31st. 10.45 A.M. On steamer Bothnia. Pouring rain with thunder and lightning. There are just 100 passengers. I have got one chum, I don't know who. Had final hot Scotch with Hutton in his dining room at 12 night. It seems jolly to be on board ship.
Goodbye and God bless you all.
Cunard Royal Mail Steamship, "Bothnia."
Noon— January 31, 1883.
Dear little Herbert:
Tell Mamma I have seen my chum, and he doesn't look ferocious. If he doesn't behave well, I can lick ten of him. We are sailing fast down the harbour, and the pilot will take this ashore and mail it.