Dere Julie,

Well ol' dear (you see I've already picked up some London wheezes) a
week has flat-wheeled by since you've heard from 'lil brighteyes. Last
wensday Skinny and me got a pass to do the burg, and our pocket books
have been at half mast ever since. As we are billeted some distance
from Picadilly, we figgered to go downtown in a taxi, rite there our
trubbles begun. We asked the pilot of the tin Lizzie what the tax
would be and he comes back with, "2 and 6 thankee sir." Can you beat
it? Two dollars fer me and six fer Skinny. We hot footed it down and
saved that much.

I didn't care much about ridin with him anyhow. I think he was a Jona;
anyway he was so cross eyed that if he'd aimed a gun at Berlin he
would have shot an eye out of Constantinopel.

We wuz a little nervous account of not being wise to the customs,
but Skinny said if we kept our lids down over our ears nobody would
be wise as to what was going on inside our skulls. The first place
we went into was the Palm Tree Inn. All the barkeepers and waiters
was "Janes." Most of them wuz pretty good looking; one "Jane" in
particular was there with a front. Skinny got one lamp at her and
immediately forgot what he joined the army for.

We wondered why it was called Palm Tree Inn cause there wasn't a palm
in sight, but when we showed the color of our coin, then everybody in
the joint showed us a palm. The people here move slowly, and believe
you me Julie a spider slower than a fifth avenoo handsome cab would
have a cinch spinnin a web around all of 'em. Skinny says most of 'em