When outside the dockyard gates I made off to a restaurant for refreshment, and then caught the train for Devonport, reaching it at 8 p.m. My father and a friend were on the platform to meet me. We took a cab to the quay, from which a waterman rowed us across the harbour. Then a journey of another three miles in a carriage, and I was at home, sweet home. My mother and sisters, who had been on the tiptoe of expectation for the last hour, now bounded out of the room as the front door was opened, and I cannot describe what transpired in the lobby for the next few minutes. The tears of joy being wiped away, we all sat down to supper, my companion--he who tasted the leather strap in our school days--being invited to swell the number, and to complete the welcome home. Supper ended, I was made the recipient of various gifts from my parents and sisters. Amongst other things which my mother gave me was a jersey which she had knitted-- every stitch of it. It happened one day that my sister took the work in hand and did a little in the making of it, but when my mother discovered this transgression, she lovingly unravelled the stitches, for she said "she desired to make it all herself." Such is a mother's love! Every winter since I have worn the jersey, and even now am wearing it on this cold December day as I pen these lines. Six weeks' leave were granted me for my absence of three years, which is the naval scale--that is a fortnight for each year, and I carried in my pocket the liberty ticket. Let me tell you what is written on it: The bearer's name, his height; the complexion of his hair, the colour of his eyes, his visible marks (if any) and the nature thereof, also a statement to the effect that he is free from arrest up to a given date which is specified--if not on board his ship at the authorised hour on that date he is regarded as a leave-breaker and punished accordingly.