"Je vous aime, je vous adore,
  Que voulez vous done encore?"

I thot that was kind of short but she sed if I sent this to you you mite send that feler Teddy packin, but I guess you wont.  I dont no when I have had so much bad luck as I have had lately.  Fust their was the hoopincoff, then my blew legs, then I lost my firecrakers, and now I guess I am going to lose you al-rite.  I fergot to tell you their is a new preecher hear called Herbit Hoover and he is a minister of the gospel of the Clean Plate, and all us school boys have been distributin little papers about it, the idee is, if you do not beleeve in it you eat meat and wheat and everythin, and if you beleeve a little you have meatless days and eat rye and no wheat, and if you get the religion rele hard you lick your plate clean and eat pretty near nothing at all.  Ennyway nobody must eat sugar.  Dad sez it is becaus sugar has turned to dimonds, so we have sirup insted and it is pretty good, the pancakes I was tellin you about was made with that.  Mother sez the sugar situashun is going to be rele bad.  I hope their is some left fer my birthday which is near Thanksgiving day.  Say, you and I come near bein twins do you no that?  Just too weaks more and we wood have been born together, only I wood have been your twin over here and you wood have been my twin over there.  Say woodnt that have been funny though!  Stranger things have happined though.  It does seem sort of strange to think those too weaks have made me your godfather and you my godchild insted of us bein twins.  I tole mother about it and she sed she thot it was better the way it is.  I have saved up 47 cents fer your Christmas present I am not going to tell you what I wish you wood do fer mine.  I am going to see if you can guess it.

Your ever affeckshunate godfather,
James P. Jackson Jr.

18 rue d’Autancourt, Paris.  September 24, 1917.

My dear godfather: 

I am afraid this letter can’t be in my own style and handwriting this time, for Mr. Teddy is here and I have asked him to help me with my English, in exchange of my helping him with his French.  My mind is troubled and I think he can express my thought, so he has taken the pen in hand, and I, sitting on a little stool at his feet, and gazing up at him, try to make him understand what is in my mind.

But first of all Mr. Teddy wants to ask you to forgive him, if he seems to be “butting in” and spoiling the game between you and your godchild.  Honor bright, he didn’t mean to do it.  It was fate.  Just blind, mysterious, and merciless fate that decreed that things should happen as they did.  Mr. Teddy may be a blessing in disguise, anyway he couldn’t be helped, and he has no excuse to offer, except, perhaps, that he is alone in the world and homesick in a foreign land.  He is sorry you and he can’t fight a duel over the situation, but I am very glad.  And Mr. Teddy wants to tell you, very seriously that he takes off his hat to any little fellow of your size who can do the plucky thing you have done, and keep it up so well.  If grown up men all had more of your spirit, he says, the war would be over long ago.