The American mail has just come, and such a dandy lot has come my way! I am sorry you have worried about the box sent November 15th; I acknowledged it last time, but I will say again how much appreciated everything was. The December 9th one came Thursday January 18th, which was very quick, as we count on six weeks for cases. I was as excited as a colt and went at it with hammer and tongs--in this case an old rusty axe and a pair of pinchers--and pulled forth joyfully the shirts, coats, and all the things. Certainly Mother does send jim-dandy things. I shed a few sentimental tears on the name-tag on Mr. Hathaway's coat and more tears when I didn't find my Oxford book or any peanut brittle! But the box did contribute something to me personally which was of the greatest value, which will appear later in my narrative. It is touching to hear the refugees tell what they have tried to save from their old homes. If they have been driven to Paris by bombardment they have perhaps been able to save a couple of mattresses (so handy to travel with) or some blankets; but for the ones who have been in the invaded country and have only recently been repatriated by the Germans, they rarely arrive here with anything but the clothes on their backs. The trip is eventful enough, usually, in trying merely to keep life going without juggling with furniture and extra clothes. They are sent from Northern France into Germany through Switzerland to Southern France and thence up to Paris. The traveling is not de luxe as you may imagine and takes many hours--days even. To get a vivid idea of the journey you should have it described by an old dame of seventy summers who has never set foot out of her native village before. She will sit with ten or twenty knitting needles flashing in her lap, her white cap tied neatly under her chin and rattle on in toothless but fluent patois reciting a series of experiences that you wonder she could ever have survived. Perhaps you can picture for yourself the effect of taking any old country woman that we know through the Dolomites under a hostile guard. Highest praises are always given to the Swiss. They have given warm clothes, warm food, and a warm welcome to countless refugees that I have talked to.