familiar face in army uniform, and who should it be but M----. Much joy!
He is near here, on temporary duty at a British hospital. I had him over
to the ship for lunch, and hope to see him again. I certainly respect
that boy. He has no military ambitions, and wishes the war were over, so
he could get back to his wife and children; but _he_ answered the call
while others were hiding behind volleys of language, and he is here to
see it through. I am afraid he is homesick and lonely, for it is harder
for a boy who does not know the English than for us hardened
mercenaries, who are accustomed to hobnob with everybody from Cubans to
Cossacks.

[Sidenote: The American uniform and the British.]

I will be glad when American Army and Navy uniforms are designed by a
tailor who really knows something about it. Alas, our people are
distinctly inferior to the British in the cut of their jib. I think it
is the high standing collar that queers us. It is only at its best when
one stands at Attention--head up, chest out, arms at side--being
distinctly a parade uniform. The British, with their rolling collar, and
coat tight where it may be, and loose where it needs to be, are, you
might say, less military and better dressed.

Tell the Enfant that I am very proud when he gets gold honor-marks on
his school-papers, and I think that it probably means about the same as
a star on a midshipman's collar. (That ought to get him.)

I must close and get a bit of sleep. It seems as if, when it is all
over, all the heaven I will want, is to be with you and son again,
perfectly quiet.