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July 3. Avila [Ávila] Here we are, more Spanish than ever, having indulged in mantillas for each girl (so necessary with all the church going), doulsey [?] saddle bags (to hold Peg Too's [?] loot? [?]) and odds are ends galore to gloat upon [?] Taid New York. Avila[Ávila] is delicious though the church is disappointing. The town and the people are so charming and [illegible] in last night at dusk then walking about in the moonlight down to the square where a little fair was going on, with this morning's wanderings through the teeming markets has been entirely delightful. It has got colder, progressively since we left Antwerp. The children occasionally murmur [?] about "[?] Spain" when the winds blow very hard, but we're all full of cheer.
[Right side verticle text] Love Mark R.
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Dear Alfred and Ruth, Winterbourn Monkton, Wilts. [?] This is the edge of Salisbury Plain and as I write the morning airplanes circle across the sky. Every now and then the heart of one of them cease to beat and I look up, in the sudden silence, to see it plunge and twist downwards and right itself again. The peril wakes itself [?] imamdiate [?] even in this tranquil garden and way [?] [illegible] pauses, to go on again with the plane. Postcards cannot hold what we have done and seen. The ship did not land us at Antwerp because of the dock strike and we were thrust out into Holland on a costumed [?] market [?] day. Then [?] across Belgium we went and quickly down through France (Rhemis, Le Puy, Albi, Lourdes[?] and so to Spain by Biarriz. A conventional, gaudy thing this Pais [?] seemed when one came [?] to San Sabastian just across the way. Here we stopped some days in [illegible] and back shores, learning how to live in Spain. (Amongst the difficulties, at least for the children, was dinner at half past nine, with wine as the principlal drink.) Then Altamira [?],