As you probably know by the papers, we had a Zeppelin raid or alarm last week. It was very exciting. I have never heard such a noise as the "gare à vous" trumpets or horns--or whatever they are--make. Esther Root and I stood out on our balcony for a long time watching the aeroplanes overhead. They had searchlights and made a beautiful effect. The Zeppelin was, of course, brought down way outside Paris. They never get here, because the air guard is so very efficient; also they have to go right over the army and are always discovered. However, I can now say that I have been in Paris during a "near-raid," at least! This almost makes up to me for the disappointment of not having had one during my interminably long stay in London. I have one very serious confession to make to you. I have been religiously keeping accounts ever since I left New York, first in dollars on the ship, then in pounds, shillings, and pence while in London, and then shifted to francs when I got here. You have no idea what a gorgeous account-book it was, or still is, but--here is the tragedy--I lost the dear book last week, somewhere in the metro. There is only one chance in hundreds that I will find it again. I don't know just what I can do about it. I can't possibly remember what I spent, but I will make a rough account which will give you some idea. This room which I have now is only ten francs a day, and is much nicer. It has splendid hot running water in the closet, a nice balcony, and the food is delicious. Mme. H---- is very nice, and so are the other boarders. Some queer ones, too,--two sisters from Poland who tell us stories that make our hair curl! Also a Mlle. Germain, who is studying to be a doctor, and tells us, at meal-time, about the latest corpses from the Morgue she has cut up! It is wonderful to me the way the French don't mind what they say at table.