Original Letter


                        27th December 1917.


My Own Dearest:–

I wanted to write you early in the day – its only four thirty now – but it is cold and I lacked inspiration so I waited until the mail came and I got a letter. Good old Baby she writes me lovely letters – good old letters always. They just change the whole situation entirely.

Charley Holmes let me read his letter from Blanche and it is great – the kind of a letter that you would read in a book. She rejoices over the fact that she has a filleul. He Charley, is immensely pleased with it and has written again.

Lucky old Geordie getting her seven days special leave. I wish that I could go and see her myself. It would have been pretty nice if we could all have foregathered there, Bill Leicester Geordie you and I. But it has been ordained otherwise and when I come right down to it I know that I want to have you all to myself. But in the meantime it is a good chance for you to get a holiday. Shall you stay at the Pension Lord Byron? I have my plans all made for the few minutes I shall be in Paris – if I go through there. Every minute will be spent in picking the burrs out of my tail – a good bath and a manicure and I’m away. I keep wondering if I shall be as seedy looking as Harris was probably I shall. – God save us.

A terrible calamity has overtaken me – I have lost my pipe. Of course I am heart broken because not only was it the nicest pipe I ever did  have but also and chiefly because it was a present from you. By a great stroke of good luck Miller got a corn cob from the Ladies of Strome, Alberta. In the meantime I am leaving no stone unturned to find my pipe. But I have looked everywhere except up in the trees and hope is almost dead within me. I wonder if you took that pipe of mine, the little one Mewburns gave me, to Bernay. If you did and it will not be too much trouble I wish that you would send it to me. I could manage without my drawers better than without my pipe, especially now when it is so cold and it serves also as a stove       all the same Jean Bart.

To-morrow is our last day here wandering Jews that we are. Did I tell you that I am in the same hut this minute as I came to when I rejoined last August? The same hut but it has depreciated a whole lot in value in a few months. In that time I have lived in twenty one different places in the time I’ve been here not counting short stops. Someday I shall go over my itinerary on a map with you. It has been might[y] interesting to me and I have enjoyed the excitement of it.

By the way does the Constanty live far from you? She writes that the country around her place is awfully poor and gives it a very poor name. But I can scarcely credit that she only studied English one year – she writes it beautifully.

re promenader of course that is the way it is said in the song and there’s worse than that in it too if you come right down to it – but I shan’t tell you... it might make you bad – Whenever anyone here – in the Orderly Room ­ says anything they shouldn’t Turkey wrinkles up his face and spits and registers disgust generally – even when he is the one who says it. There is a world of good in old Turk and he is a trusty of the first water.

Maidie Dear, I want you to know that I am awfully in love with you to-day and all day you have been in all my thoughts. Sweetheart I never can love you enough and I never can be nice enough to you, beautiful clever you, Sweetest girl in all the world, you deserve more love and praise than I poor tongue tied devil can ever give you. But I adore you, Dearest, with every morsel of me and I am desolate away from you. It is my love all pent up and when I get to you you will be swept away with the flood of it. Are you afraid, Dear? Honest you ought to be, au revoir, my Own.

            Your own



Bill Leicester: Bill Leicester: Bernay: