f crisply crackling paper Mrs. McGregor began:

LIVERPOOL, January 29, 1924.

DEAR SISTER NELLIE--,

Well, here I am in England with the Atlantic rolling between me and
Baileyville. We had a splendid voyage with the sea as smooth as the
top of your sewing-machine. (Ain't that like your Uncle Frederick
to joke about the ocean! He's crossed it that number of times it's
no more to him than the pond in the park. Well, I'm glad he had a
smooth trip, anyway.)

At Liverpool, where we docked, we ran into our first trouble, for
there was a longshoremen's strike on and not a soul could he found
to unload our cargo or lend a hand in loading us up again. For
three days we were tied plumb to the wharf with nothing to do but
twirl our thumbs. So having business at Manchester I decided to go
up there and stay with a Scotchman who was my first mate years ago.
(Now wasn't that nice!) Old Barney turned the town inside out he
was so glad to see me (I'll wager he was!) and among other things
took me through some big cotton mills where a nephew of his was
working. For the benefit of the children I'm going to write a bit
about them. I could not but wish on top of what we all talked about
that they might have been with me to see how wonderful the spinning
machinery is. Were it actually alive it could not work with more
brains. (Your Uncle Frederick always will have his joke!)

Indeed, the man who took us about told me that the self-acting mule
of to-day, founded on the invention of Crompton, is a product of
hundreds of minds and I can well believe it. It isn't the principle
that is new, for apparently no one has ever improved on Crompton's
idea; but since that time this machinist and that has added his bit
to make the device more perfect. (Now ain't you glad you read about
Crompton, Carl? This letter would have been Greek to you if you
hadn't.) We saw mules as long as a hundred and twenty feet, and
from nine to ten feet wide carrying some twelve or thirteen hundred
spindles, and turning out about two yards of thread in a quarter of
a minute. How is that? And all this clicking, humming, whirling
machinery was operated by a man and a couple of boys. Carl, Tim and
I could have run the thing had we known how.

(Your Uncle Frederick don't forget you boys, you see!)

They told me it was Richard R