_Bien Chère Mère_: Vous me demandez encore une autre lettre en français! Whew! How am I to manage it? Why on earth do they have male and female verbs, and adjectives, and spell the participles differently at every turn. It's no use, I'll never do it! Brother Director tells me I read well, talk well, pronounce well, that ought to be enough. Hier j'aidé le frère Pascal, qui est le cuisiniere de porte le bois dans la cuisine, without thinking, j'ai laisser tomber les morceau de bois dans un chaudron de soup. Le bon frère didn't get mad, he just said: "Tu a fais ton mieux mon petit, voici des pommes en payment de votre ouvrage." I didn't consider it work, it was just play. J'ai achete' des raquettes (snow shoes) we have a fine skating rink, and we play hockey every day. I had to buy new moccasins, mine were all cut after a long walk over a rough road. I have a new Cache-nez (muffler) and a surtout; et un casquette Canadian, which covers toute ma tete et mes oreilles, leaving only my eyes and nose free, so I don't feel the cold, although the thermometer is always below zero. * * * * * March 5th. _Dear Papa and Mamma_: It is now three weeks since I wrote the above. I have been in the infirmary, but don't be alarmed; I'm all right now. The way it was, the boys dared me to climb a telegraph pole covered with ice. As I had once climbed a greased pole, I thought I could manage this one. I succeeded somehow, though I had a hard tussle to accomplish the feat. The boys cheered and made such a racket, one of the Brothers came out, in my hurry to descend I fell when within a few feet of the ground, and broke my ankle. Dr. Dion, a fine surgeon, set it, and placed my foot in plaster-of-paris. Brother Director wrote to Aunt Lucy and Dr. Carroll, but not to Papa or you, as it was no use to worry you. I have had the best of care, the Brother Infirmarian was a doctor out in the world and knows all about nursing. I am fed on "sugar and spice and everything nice." Monsieur Le Curé sits with me every day. I could walk now if they would let me. I am not losing my lessons, but keep up as near as possible with the classes. Brother Director hears me the lessons. Brother Paul (the Infirmarian) does not speak a word of English, so that will help my French. Give my love to dear Papa and to Aunt Euhler. I will write her a letter soon, her last about the tame alligator was enjoyed by the whole College. She says you all eat alligator's tails, that the meat is like chicken. I wish you could send one up here, I'd like to taste it. Now don't worry, I'll soon be as well as ever. J'ai l'honneur de me dire, avec une parfaite affection, Votre fils--Ahem! BOLAX. * * * * * EASTER SUNDAY.