What very deceptive things maps are, anyway. Do you remember the day we looked up Denfert-Rochereau on the map? We all hunted for it, and finally located it, surrounded with stations, morgue, catacombs, orphan asylums, and goodness knows what else. I wonder if you have the same picture that I had of it before I arrived? As a matter of fact, I only discovered the station a few weeks ago--so you can see how well it is hidden. The other cheering institutions do not exist, as far as I can see, and I don't care to look them up. What does exist is a large square, with a big statue of the Lion of Belfort in the middle. He is our landmark, as it were, when we are coming home. From any direction, there he stands, or rather lies, and that means "home" in a certain sense to us. There is a perfectly lovely garden in front of our house, and another beside us--between our block and Mrs. Shurtleff's. Both gardens have Japanese apple trees or cherry trees, and at night, when we lie on our balcony, the scent is perfectly lovely. As we are only two flights up, we are just at the height of the tree-tops, so it is deliciously cool, and, except for the children in the park, one can hardly believe one is in the city. Having these two parks and a square beyond, you can imagine what very good air we get, and that makes such a difference here. Besides the æsthetic qualities, this house is located at the end of a taxi-stand, which we can see by standing on a chair on the balcony. As taxis are few and far between here these days, it is pretty cute for us to have our own stand! You may notice that I am following your excellent advice and am numbering this letter No. one. Meant to begin last week, but forgot, so here goes. Heaven help me if I miss out and forget what was the last number I used! I am trying to get time to re-write the Bordeaux trip. My bad words are all worn out from thinking of that beautiful letter going to the fishes. I am so very glad that you called my attention to the lack of periods and capitals in my letters. I intend to go over this cahier very carefully! It pretty near scares me to death when I think of your showing my notes to any one, for they are usually written hurriedly, and I simply say what I think and feel without any regard to phrases or literary value; not that I could do anything in that line if I wanted to. Still, it does please me to feel that I have been able to tell you enough, and in such a way that it has interested you. After all, it is simply because everything is so vital here, and when one has something to say, it is usually easy to say it. Almost every day now, big, new, beautiful, creamy-colored dirigibles sail over the city. They are so marvelous-looking, with the sun on them. I do not quite know what they are for, but they are lovely to look at.