a bum is a feler or something that is no good, and a pollywog is a animal that is going to be a frog, and pooh-pooh is pooh-pooh, and bughouse means you have rats in the upper story, and you had better find out about the getysberg adress and the boy scouts and mebbe and the dickens yourself but I wood go easy on them if I was you.  What you want to go askin me all those things fer ennyway?  I aint askin you what the vacancies, or all of a hit, or pending, of enny of those things are, am I?  I got your photo and I like the way your hare curls and your eyes two and everythin, and I am glad you are not laffin.  Girls that giggle are the limit.  I have only one photo of myself and I look as if I wood dye grinning becaus the man that took it was jumpin up and down and sayin, Look hear!  Look hear!  Say wood you relly like to have it?  I dont think you wood, I dont see what good I am ennyway.  I am two young to inlist and I dont think you relly like me.  I guess mebbe I had better go to sea or something.

Your affeckshunate godfather,
James P. Jackson Jr.

P.S.  I went butterflying to-day and had good luck.

18 rue d’Autancourt, Paris.  August 2, 1917.

Dear godfather: 

You know what it is the “cafard?” In the dictionary it say it is a “roach” and that is the little beast black like your pollywogs, I think.  But in the Poilu talk it means not that.  When there is no more fun in life, and I am not good for anything anyhow, like you say, that is what they call to have the “cafard.”  And it is very bad in the army.  It is to have a bad morale and we must wind ourselves up.

Dear godfather, you must be content because I love you much.  And you take so much pain and you labor so hard to entertain[17] me, I want make you happy in your heart so you have no more the “cafard.”  Dear godfather, I will tell you the American Poilus have come.  On Monday last we hear the music on the road and the mistress tell us this afternoon all the children must put on aprons clean, and we go to see pass the Americans.  And Maman give me five sous for purchase a bouquet for give them in souvenir of my dear godfather, and the fleuriste give me two roses red and I envelope them in a paper wet for hold them fresh.  And all the little girls march in rank like soldiers, two by two, on to the road where the Americans come.  And the gendarmes march before us to make spread open the crowd so we come.  And we stand in rank and it make a very long line and shake the flag American and wait.  The sun was brilliant and very hot and after a very long moment, we hear the big music come around the corner, and all bodies were screaming:  “Vive l’Amerique!  Vive les Etats Unis!  Hurrah Sammies!” and the gentlemen throw up their hats in air.  And all of a hit we see the banner of stars coming down the street, and I look and all the little girls at a time kneel themselves on the sidewalk.  And I make the sign of the cross, and the little girls at