less--correctly, and then be dismissed. It makes you laugh to watch their antics as they march along. They all smile and salute us now, because we have been there so often. They are not fresh,--just amusing,--but it also makes me a little sad to think what they are training for--what is ahead of them. To think that these bright-faced boys will, in all probability, turn into some of the sad-faced, mutilated men that we see in the hospitals and on the streets. Although it sometimes disgusts you to have a réformé talk about getting so much for his arm, or lack of arm, or leg or eye, or so much more for a ball in his neck,--still I can hardly blame them. They have served their country when their country called them. They have given their health, and perhaps their happiness, to the country. Why shouldn't they be paid for it, and paid well? [Illustration: Rootie in Park at Saint-Germain] [Illustration: Marje in the Salon at No. 12 Place Denfert-Rochereau] If Rootie were writing this letter, she would tell you all the facts of historic interest about Saint-Germain, as she is well up in her Baedeker, but, as I am not, I will have to let you live in ignorance. I vaguely know that Henri IV was born in the pavillon here, and that François something started to build the château, got disgusted, and built Versailles instead. I can tell you, however, that the woods and park here are wonderful, that the church bell that rings every half-hour is most pleasing, and that there are many good restaurants here--one of which we are sampling this evening. Daddy writes that my letter about the trip has not arrived. I guess it must have sunk,--isn't it just my luck? Well, I am going to send you the pictures we took, and I will write another shorter and much less interesting account. I will type it and send a carbon copy a week after the original, and, if you don't get either, I give it up! I know I have missed some of your letters, but I haven't been much over two weeks without word, so I certainly must not complain. Mrs. Willis, a friend of Rootie's, took over a few little things to you which I was anxious for you to have. She had no room, so I could not send several other things I wanted to. This letter and Eleanor's, a Mr. Whiting, a friend of mine, is taking for me. I hope that you will get them quicker than usual;--you ought to. I am also sending a couple of posters which I thought you might like for the bungalow in Marion. Tell Josey the little medal I sent her is a regular "croix de guerre," and the palm leaf on the ribbon is the highest "citation" one can have.