il life that you think wouldn't have the sand to get
manicured, or ther hair cut without takin cloroform, are puttin
themselves on the map faster than towns on newly opened Government
land. Even the married men in our regiment are gettin so "Spiffy" that
I believe they'll have sand enough to talk back to friend wif when
they get back home.

Yours until they make bottles without false bottoms.

BARNEY.

[Illustration: He cum down that tree quicker than Tarzan uv the Apes]

Dere Julie,

Well Julie, a courier has just horned his way into camp with the
"info" that this lil ol' scrap is over, and I've lost an other chance
to be a hero; but I'm not gonna go round making a noise like a dill
pickel, just because I didn't get no show to give the Fritzies a upper
cut. I'd rather be a live simp Julie, than a dead hero, any day.

Its better for me ennyhow, to say "there he goes, than here he lies."
Believe you me derie, I've saw enuff of the damage these Boch pills
can do, to know that a boob who tries to stop one of 'em with his
frame, has no more chance than a 10 cent piece of ice when the
thermometer is 99 plus in the shade, or a scuttle of suds in a Bowery
gin mill.

Well Ol' dear, she's over, and I didn't get a chance to croak a single
Fritzie. My ol' man had better luck in the civil war. He was out one
hot nite with a foraging party and they run into a confed ambuscade,
a big fat Johnny Reb took after my old man and the chase was nip and
tuck fer about 2 miles. Just when the ol' gent had give himself as
lost, he saw over his shoulder the confed fall down in a heap and die
from being overheated. But at last Julie dere, we have made the world
safe fer the Democrats, so you can kill the cow's young son fer little
bright eyes as they did fer that young high roller mentioned in the
Bible. If veal is top high in the good ol' U.S.A., I'll be satisfied
with a table-dee-hoty dinner at the Cafe Des Enfants (meaning Child's
Restaurant), I'm not particular Julie, so long as every course is
served with your smilin face opposite. The more I see of the "Janes"
over here the better I like the Julies over there. I've saw 'em all
and not a one can hold a tallow candle up a dark alley to my own
Julie. In the language of the poet

You can talk of English women
Who like there beef and beer;
Of Italy's black haired beauties
Who love there land so dere;
Of Spanish turtle doves
Who sing of wealth and love;
But