Canada for Gentlemen
Cockburn, James Seaton
English
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CANADA FOR GENTLEMEN,
BEING
LETTERS
FROM
JAMES SETON COCKBURN.
The difficulty of sending my son's letters to the numerous friends
who are interested in seeing them, without wearing out the
Manuscript, has induced me to have them printed. It is hoped, also,
that they may be useful in giving information regarding some of the
difficulties of young emigrants, of which so little is said by the
Agencies, though the experience they teach is often more valuable
than that of uniform success. The only alterations made in these
letters (intended only for the home circle) has been in substituting
fictitious names for those of friends. It may seem a paradox that a
price should be attached to letters intended only for private
circulation, but I am not without hope of being able to provide the
writer with his winter furs (greatly to his own surprise), in return
for the pleasure and information which his letters have undoubtedly
given.
S. Cockburn.
LETTERS FROM JAMES SETON COCKBURN.
North Western Hotel,
Liverpool.
_August 20th_, '84.
Dear Mother,
I write this before turning in, and, as you will observe, with a
beast of a pen. We arrived here all safe, and with all our traps.
Though I lost the run of my bag at Bristol in the scurry, it turned
up here all right.
There were a lot of people waiting on the Warren to wave to us. I
recognised Miss Linton, and I think some of the Seymours. Miss
Harley met us at Star Cross to say another good-bye, with a
button-hole for me and a note, and a flint-and-steel for Henry.
We were collared when we got here by an agent of some sort, who was
going to free us from all trouble by seeing our luggage safely on
board, but as he kept a low kind of Temperance Hotel, and smelt very
strongly of whisky, I declined his services, chiefly I should say,
on the instigation of a good-natured cabby. Of course, for aught I
know, it may be the proper thing to go in for these sort of chaps,
but it's bent to be on the safe side.
Must shut up now, and go to sleep.
Best love to everybody,
Your loving Son,
J. SETON COCKBURN.
S.S. "Montreal,"
En Route For Canada.
_August 21st_, '84.
My Dearest Mother,
We are not going to touch at any Irish port, so I am hurrying to
write a few lines to send off by the Pilot.
The weather is beautiful, and we have got the cabin to ourselves.
I have already made some very nice acquaintances; altogether it bids
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