and you." I hope the censor let that
get by him. The boat I was on was a refrigerator ship; it was also
peculiar in that the captain dealt baccarat all day with the
passengers. It was a sort of floating gambling house. This is
certainly a strange land. Snow and roses and oranges, all at once. I
must stop. I'm froze. Give the kiss I want to give to Her, and know,
oh! how I love and love and love her mother--NEVER SO MUCH AS NOW.

SALONICA November 30th, 1915.

DEAR OLD MAN:

I got here to night and found it the most picturesque spot I ever
visited. I am glad I came. It was impossible to get a room but I
found John McCutcheon and two other men occupying a grand suite and
they have had a cot put in for me. To-morrow I hope to get a room.
The place is filled with every nation except Germans and even they are
here out of uniforms. We had a strange time coming. The trip from
Athens should have taken two nights and a day but we took four. The
Captain of the boat anchored and played baccarat whenever he thought
there were enough passengers not seasick to make it worth his while.
He played from eleven in the morning until four in the morning. I
don't know now who ran the ship. It is so cold when you bathe, the
steam runs off you. I never have suffered so. But, it looked as
though every one else was singing "Its going to be a hard, hard winter"
from the way they, dress. Tomorrow I am going to buy fur pants. You
can't believe what a picture it is. Servians, French, Greeks, Scots in
kilts, London motor cars, Turks, wounded and bandaged Tommies and
millions of them fighting for food, for drink, for a place at the
"movies," and more "rumors" than there are words in the directory.
To-morrow, I present my letters and hope to get to the "front." I only
hope the front doesn't come to us. But, it ought to be a place for
great stories. All love to you old man, and bless you both. How I
look forward to our first lunch in your wonderful home! And to sit in
front of your fire, and hear all the news. All love to you both.

RICHARD.

December 6, 1915.

DEAREST ONE:

I have been away so could not write. They took us to the French and
English "front" and away from Greece; we were in Bulgaria and Servia.
It was at a place where the three boundaries met. We saw remarkable
mountain ranges and deep snow, and some fine artillery. But throwing
shells into that bleak, white jumble of snow and rocks--there was fi