An instructor today was wising us up on overseas service, and told us the best way to rough house cooties; he didn’t show us any of the pets, but did show us the scratch proof dug-outs they had made on his frame.  From the way he described ’em and their habits, I imagine they are the same species of “seam squirrels” that you get in a Coney Island bathin suit.  The first time you go to Mrs. Woolworth’s store please buy and send me a 1/2 dozen graters so I can rent ’em out to the boys to scratch on.  That’s me.  In time of piece prepare for war.

I see by the papers that Uncle Sam says the Kings must be thrown out.  Believe you me, he must be some poker player to throw out 3 kings and make a hand win.

Skinny Shaner got in dutch today at drill.  We had been drillin for a hour or so, and the command was, Company forward march!  Halt!  This was kept up continuously fur about a hour, and all to wunce Skinny trowed down his gun and said he’d be d——­ if he would be bossed by a guy like that, he changed his mind to d——­ often.  Skinny is always like that.  Ever since he’s been here, he’s been braggin what a fine singer he is; said his voice was trained for Grand Opera.  He sang for us last night, a song, entitled “God give us cheap ice, for Heaven’s knows we have cheap skates.”  Believe you me, his voice was trained for Grand Rapids instead of Grand Opera.

Yours until the William the Twicer gives that dinner in Paris,

Barney.

P.S.—­I hope Skinny keeps well.  He will if he don’t try to sing again tonite.

[Illustration:  his voice wuz trained fer Grand Rapids instead of Grand Opera]

Dere Julie,

They took away our maiden names yesterday, and give us numbers, Skinny’s is 31.  Yesterday his old man arrived in camp to visit him.  Stepping blithely up to the top sarge he pipes up “I am the father of thirty-one.”  “Well said the sarge, you ain’t got much on me, I am the father of eighteen myself.”

My number is 475.  Today they marched us off to listen to a hour sermon by a antiquated ol’ bunch of spinnage, who at the end bawled out, No. 475.  “Art thou weary, Art thou languid?” An now they give me 7 days in the guard house because I yelled out that I certainly was.  How was I to know that the ol’ billy goat was givin out the him to be sang.

Im readin in the papers you sent me from home that Bill Ferguson has enlisted, which fact leads your “uncle Dudley” to say that the war certainly is nearin the end, for nobody ever knowed Bill to hold a job more than 30 days at the longest.

We got our first settin up exercises today.  Believe you me, they are more settin down than they are settin up.  All the boobs have to lie on there backs, put there laigs in the air, and move ’em like he wuz ridin a bicycle.  All to once Skinny Shaner stopped.  The drill Sarge stepped over and deemanded to know why he quit.  “Im coastin” pipes Skinny, “I always do a little coastin when I ride a wheel.”  Believe you me if Skinny ever tries to ride all of them wheels in his head at one and the same time, he have to do a considerable lot of coastin.  With love and mushes,