(Excerpt): "… Edward died in some outlandish place in North America, I never can remember the name, but it’s in the papers, so you’ll see it-somewhere on the other side of the something mountains-I forget-" "Rocky, perhaps." "Yes, that’s it, the Rocky Mountains, and I wish they were not so rocky, for your sake, darling, for you’ve got to go there and take possession (or serve yourself heir to, or something of that sort) of the property. Not that it’s large, so they say (I wish with all my heart it did not exist at all), but they tell me there is gold on it, though whether it is lying on the fields or down in holes I’m sure I don’t know, and oh dear, I don’t care, for it entails your going away again, my darling boy…."