There is a little girl in this house whose name is Clothilde.
She is ten years old, and calls me "Monsieur le Major".
How would you like it if twenty or thirty soldiers came along
and lived in your house and put their horses in the shed or the stable?
There are not many little boys and girls left in this part of the country,
but occasionally one meets them on the roads with baskets of eggs
or loaves of bread. Most of them have no homes, for their houses
have been burnt by the Germans; but they do not cry over it.
It is dangerous for them, for a shell might hit them at any time --
and it would not be an eggshell, either.

Bonfire is very well. Mother sent him some packets of sugar,
and if ever you saw a big horse excited about a little parcel,
it was Bonfire. He can have only two lumps in any one day,
for there is not much of it. Twice he has had gingerbread
and he is very fond of that. It is rather funny for a soldier-horse,
is it not? But soldier horses have a pretty hard time of it, sometimes,
so we do not grudge them a little luxury. Bonfire's friends are King,
and Prince, and Saxonia, -- all nice big boys. If they go away and leave him,
he whinnies till he catches sight of them again, and then he is quite happy.
How is the 15th Street Brigade getting on? Tell Mother I recommend Jack
for promotion to corporal if he has been good. David will have to be a gunner
for awhile yet, for everybody cannot be promoted. Give my love to Katharine,
and Jack, and David.

Your affectionate uncle Jack.


Bonfire, and Bonneau, and little Mike, are all well. Mike is about