[Illustration: "EVERYONE TUCKS THERE NAPKINS UNDER THERE CHINS"]

The French is awful optimistic eaters. By takin everything separate
they can work themselves into believin theyve had a course dinner. If
they had such a thing as oatmeal an cream I bet theyd make you eat the
oatmeal first an drink the cream afterwards.

Every time you look away you get a clean plate. All you need to start
a restawrant in France is a thousand plates an a dozen eggs. The rest
of the food doesnt matter much. About everything you ask for is
"Defended." That seems to be the same as "Just out" in American. In
most places its just a question of how long you can think of things to
ask for before you end up with an omlet. The only place you can get
real French cookin Mable is in the States.

Theres a bunch of French soldiers in town. Most of them have beards an
little bags hangin all over them. I wish theyd let us wear beards. You
wouldnt have to go round with your collar buttoned all the time then.

When I first got into town I thought it must be a holiday or something
cause the saloons was overflowin right out on the sidewalks. Everybody
was sittin round at little tables drinkin beer. I went in one tho an
there wasnt a soul inside but flies. It certinly is mixin. In one
place a fello wont take a drink unless he can go behind a screen. Over
here he wont have it anywhere but in the middle of the street. I can
see your father sittin out on Main street in a wicker chair with a
stein of beer in his hands.

Well Mable at the rate Im not receivin mail I wont be able to tell
wether its last winter or next winter that your talkin about when I