Between here and the point for the _petit voyage_--a little bit off the route, is the big future American aviation camp and also an Artillery camp. There are quite a bunch of fellows there, Quentin Roosevelt, Cord Meyer, etc., I think. Every American that has left on his voyages in the last month has stopped there against all orders and been bawled out by the monitor. One has to keep a recording barometer or altimeter machine, a barograph, during the voyages, which indicates all stops. One chap came back home the other day with a barometer record showing beyond the shadow of a doubt that he had made a stop of about fifteen minutes _en route_. The monitor saw it, said, “_Alors_, all you Americans stop off there, I don’t like it.” Then the chap tried to explain how he had had a _panne_ and come down in a field out in the country somewhere, fixed the motor and come on home. He almost got away with it, but the monitor happened to snook around a bit and noticed on the tail very clearly written a good Anglo-Saxon name, the name of the town, and the date--quite indisputable evidence. I fully expect to have a _panne_ there myself before long. By the way, to declare a short pause in my chronicle of aviation, how about all those “letters that are to follow”? If you try to tell me how good you are to your Belgian soldier, I refuse to believe a word until you treat me in the same way. And I also refuse to accept anyone as a _marraine_ (isn’t that what you call these fairy godmother persons one is supposed to correspond with during the war and marry afterward? How inconsiderate some of them are, to take three or four soldiers, just assuming that not more than one will survive; however, they may be wise to have more than one iron in the fire. But my parenthesis grows apace.)--I say I refuse a _marraine_ until she approves her ability. But let me see again. Does said _marraine_ have to be a complete stranger? It seems to me that is customary, and also usually they are of different nationalities. All of the foregoing weak line will be interpreted as a mere plea for that other letter. I’ve never made this “absence makes the heart grow fonder” stuff at all. Even ---- has given me up; I remain to her only another of the forgotten conquests (?) of the dead past.... This odd person, Bassett, wandered in all dressed up like a patch of blue sky and I just had to let you know he was here. With absolute confidence in each other’s integrity, we put our loving messages side by each. By the way, he _is_ a good scout, don’t you think? I have gotten to like him immensely since he has been here. I never had a better time in my life than one evening in Paris with Chet. However quiet the party, he is the life of it. It must be that I take my weekly shave--in cold, cold water, with a dull, dull razor. Oh, happy thought! Tell the father and brothers hello from me. Also tell ---- to drop me a line of what he’s doing and when he’s coming over.