ried a French girl and as soon as the war broke out, he turned against her land and betrayed her city's confidence. He knew all the important places in Paris. He knew where the money places were, where all the important papers were kept. He actually spied right along.

You may wonder how in the world I know, but you see as soon as the war broke out, he took a trip to Germany and saw the necessary men to affiliate with, then he came back and was rather unpleasant to the French people. Then the mail was looked after and as you undoubtedly know, a censor is established, and through this, his letters were found to contain secret codes. Think what one spy

can do to damn a city.

The mail censor is a very interesting thing. The government has a bureau which is composed of men and women who are chosen through the highest references. They generally employ people who are known as loyal patriots and who under no suspicion can be spys. Somehow, Paris is just overcrowded with spies, and every man, woman and child is suspicious about his or her neighbor and every action is guarded so keenly. The least sign of suspicion is reported and immediately a detective is put on the trail of the accused. Generally, the foundations have been groundless, but the French are skeptical people during the war.

You can't blame them, because they are so close to Germany and feel that the very Frenchman who preaches patriotism is giving information to a compatriot of Germany.

Now go back to this mail censor. Every letter that arrives or goes out is opened, read, and sent. The letters that avoid inspection are generally the

The very

small written correspondence letters. envelop shows that there is no secret message. All letters that have a business address in the upper left hand corner, and letters that are typewritten, or envelopes that are large, or writing that looks German script are opened at the censor bureau. You see, they must be careful because of past experiences.

I was very much interested in your question about mail that arrives from America. You see, France and America are friends. If we were not, do you suppose for one minute, that I would be here helping an enemy? There would not be one American fighting if it were not for the fact that we are friends. Yes, it is true that even American mail is opened. We should not be indignant at all. Sometimes we must be reasonable and regard the other man's situation.

France in opening letters from everywhere, offers no insult but is protecting her rights and is preventing information from slipping through. You see, if American letters were permitted to pass unnoticed, how easy it would be for a spy to send mail to America first, then to its destination.

Have you thought of that? You seem to wonder why I don't describe the battle field and tell you all the hardships. That is what the censor really tries to avoid. The government does not wish to spread news of her dead and wounded, and the terrible catastrophes because of the feelings of those at home, and perhaps some men might be reported dead when as a matter of fact they are not, and vice versa. We are ordered not to describe conditions and if a letter contains such information it is destroyed or returned to the sender. Of course

that is a little hard on the American. You would like to know everything that is taking place, and yet we have no right to tell you. Perhaps they adhere to this strict rule because some soldier unconsciously might give away valuable information. After all, the spys are very clever, and they can take one point and another point, and by the simple process, put two and two together.

I wonder if you are thinking of me and considering the offer I made you before I left. Tell me and make me the happiest man in the world.

Lou.

While Lou was a man of the greatest regard and perfect "catch" for some girl, I could not listen to his plea, so long as Billy was in the

race.

Paris, France.

Mr. Dear Miss Kitty:

You seem to be under the impression that the soldiers are constantly in the trenches, doing nothing but killing all day long. No, on the contrary, we spend very little time in actual firing.

When the boys are awakened in the morning by bugle or by messenger (it depends upon the distance we are from the enemy) we drill, then get some nourishment, then go along the regular routine of warfare. We change off. There is no man here that will complain of overwork.

Your question asking me how we are physically capable to aim and fire all day long, then with little sleep resume the same course the next day, was

expected. Apparently, you, too, are under the impression under which many are erroneously laboring.

We are on the battle field very little. Each group has its chance. We have time for sociability, sing sometimes, and lead a natural life. Instead of fighting for possession as one man does over another in cities, we are fighting for principle. It is done in the regular business course of the day. There is no truth that men are fighting day and night. It is either day or night or not even that duration of time.

We are working in shifts, just as the subway guards in New York. When we are on duty, we must fight for breathing space and existence, no more than the people that are trying to rush home on the subway at six o'clock.. I would rather be here in the open air leading a man's life and be told that I am fighting than be in the tunnels, actually fighting but refuse to admit it.

After all, what is life? We don't know what principle is right and if we are fighting we don't know for whom or for what. We are under strict discipline, and must obey. It seems to me you are right in saying that nature forces animosity in a man's heart just to create a disturbance so as to provoke the peace. If nature and not man is behind all this undesirable condition, why should we rebel against it? For economic reasons we must kill and do away with masses. It seems pitiless to regard the situation in this light, but we are taking facts not as they should be but as they are. True, everybody should be healthy, wealthy, and wise, and lead a long sweet life, just laden with love. That is a condition that should be, but is it? No, we must take actual existence as it is and treat it as such.

A soldier's thoughts reach out to his home, and dear ones, not only at the time of relaxation but even on the firing line. At the moment of action, a question arises in our minds-"why do we do this?" The voice of the commander awakens the animal instincts and with renewed efforts, we aim— aim straight-straight into the hearts of the enemy. We seldom miss, as we are disciplined in the strict test way. When we are at duty, nothing sympathetic enters our minds, we work and we are conscious, but there is a time during the day, strange to say, just when the sun sets and darkness is coming on, that the boys gather around the camp and few speak-all seem reticent, and think. We haven't any chairs that can give the back some support, we have only camp stools and these are given to the first come, first served. Other who come later are comfortable on the ground. Yes at that time of the day, pessimism seems to predominate. Some write at that time, as most of the soldiers keep dairies so as to be passed down to the family folds, or to those they love, or to posterity so that in some future time, a new feeling of duty and heroism might be inspired, in days to come when necessity arises.

You ask me in the last letter to tell you what my thoughts are at the time of the setting sun. I generally get away from the bunch and linger by myself. Sometimes I see a few others trying to be with their own thoughts. I see a man lying flat on his back stretched full length. He feels that is the best way to relax after a ten mile hike. Some men feel that if they chat or sing-generally the old folk songs that that is their recreation. Others feel that sleep would add a little contentment. Some smoke, and by their expression, I can see that their