Original Letter

France, 14th Jany 1918

My Own Maidie:–

I’m the luckiest man – last night two more letters from you! Now I am just waiting my chance to go out and find my rabbits foot. I could rave over your letters, Dear, and avec raison for they are quite the most wonderful letters ever written. There is only one you Baby. God made you and destroyed the mould. I’ll bet that the joy there is in Heaven when a sinner repents is mourning when compared with the joy there was when you were born. All the angels must have smiled on you Maidie. You are a very perfect lady. My Lady. And I adore you with every atom of me. You must be prepared to be loved to death when I come to you for a lot of love has been storing up in me all these months and its going to break loose at sight of you. Probably I shall get shy when I meet you, run to meet you like Earle did that time to meet me. And then stop and look at something else. Probably! What will the number of this honeymoon be, Dear, is it six or seven? I can just tell from here that all the others will be commonplaces in comparison, for I think you do love me and I know I worship you.

Last night I had a letter from Bert and it is so quite unlike any letter I have had from any of my kith in years that I am going to answer it. It was human! They were up to Tokio to see Doc. last fall and shortly after their return a tornado raised hell with Tokio, destroyed a huge chunk of the town and took the roof off Doc’s house. She didn’t say whether he ever got it back on again, which is very unsatisfactory for now I am tormented by the picture of Doc sitting miserably in a house with out any roof! They are all in the pink – the Broadfoots ­ and she never once did reproach me for not writing. So, of course, I shall write her.

To-morrow is the day my application goes – ? – ? – ? What are they going to say!

It snowed last night and covered up a lot of the man made ugliness which prevails about here. I shall be glad to turn my back on it all for a space.

Bobbie was telling us last night about a job he had once in Canada working in a tunnel – it was too dangerous big rocks rolling down and two men got killed and one hundred, including Bobbie quit. “Course after this it doesn’t seem very dangerous”! “I wish I had a good safe job like you now”. His grandfather used to smuggle tobacco in Scotland and eventually was killed by the Revenue Officers. His father is a ‘moler’ i.e. one who catches moles. It appears to be a very lucrative business for in addition to the bounty of one penny per snout caught, the hide is very valuable and sometimes fetches all the way from a ha’penny to a penny! And he has caught as many as fifty in one day. He keeps Turk and me roaring with laughter every night.

I must close, Dear, as the move to-day necessitates extra work. Have I told you that I love you to-day – its all I think of anyway. And, Dearest, the description of that wonderful kiss – I’m quivering still from reading about it. Angel je t’adore.

            Ton mari

                        Ross