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On Board
"Berengaria".
Dec. 12th 1934.

My darlings,

I meant to write you a long letter, but since
Monday we have struck a patch of fearfully rough weather -
and it has just been a question of hanging on to something
and everythng else has had to go! Meals are like a
harlequinade, everything suddenly flies off the table and
one's chair rushes back with one in it! In the "lounge"
all the chairs suddenly rush across the room and several
people have got hurt, and going up and down stairs is a
penance and as for sleeping!. Monday night beds plunged
about, the suitcases fought amongst themselves on the floor,
the lovely flowers we had been sent crashed on to the ground.
Last night we made the steward lash everything to everything
else with ropes, and though we didn't sleep much it was a
little better than before.

I wrote at Washington, didn't I? We had a perfect
day in the way of weather and saw Mr. Wallace, Minister of
Agriculture and Miss Perkins, Minister of Labour. We only
saw them for a minute or two each but quite enough to see
that they were interesting and very able people. Then there
was/