Dear Father,
I am now staying with Harry and his parents in the north Terrytury. When we left London it was worm and the sun shined but all ready the poor blossoms were blewed down from the trees. Their live are briefs like the mans on our jurney in the steam-lined train. The rain spitted on the windows but then and now we saw the little sheeps with their mums and they were white and happy. The cows was seated on the wet grasses with the smells on there faces like they are contents.
The more we are going to the north the more was the seen diffrent and no hedges was there amongst the feelds but there was the stone walls. There is no sticking plaster between the stones but they fell down never. They are digged from the quory at the local. All the houses all so are with the stones and not the bricks but they are sticking to gather and they are stood since many years.
Mr Hargreaves grated us at the station of Leeds - he is big and is stomack is big too. It is called a pornch and there was a cross it a gold chain wich fassens his watch into his pocket. He wore the shelps coat and the caps with the peke. His wifes said "ello luv" so the people here is like the cockneys and love every body.
We drived passed the green fields but the country here is starkers and there are no trees. The custums are strange and we had not the dinner but the 'high tea' and the pot was on the table. The food was all handmade. The house is very old with the lettuce windows and in the big fireplace the wood logs were burning.
We played the billiards. I had not a clue so Mr Hargreaves gave me one and robbed it with a chork. I hit one ball over the green tablecloth into the string bag which is hanging onto the corner. It is all interesting and new.
Your loving son,
Iziz
