ar some
while our local clown was home, but how much was true and how
much his imagination I don't know. Anyway, his drollery made us all
laugh. His mother-in-law had died since he left, and when his wife
wept on his shoulder, he patted her on the back, and winked over his
shoulder at his admiring friends, as he said: "Chut, ma fille, if you are
going to cry in these days because someone dies, you'll have no time
to sleep. Only think of it, the old lady died in bed, and that is
everything which is most aristocratic in these days."

I regret to say that this did not console wife one bit.

As he never can tell anything without acting it out, he was very comic
when he told about the battle in which the Prussian Guard was wiped
out. He is in the artillery, and he acted out the whole battle. When he
got to the point where the artillery was ordered to advance, he gave
an imitation of himself scrambling on to his gun, and swaying there,
as the horses struggled to advance over the rough road ploughed
with shell, until they reached the field where the Guard had fallen.
Then he imitated the gesture of the officer riding beside the guns, and
stopping to look off at the field, as, with a shrug, he said: "Ah, les
beaux gars" then swung his sabre and shouted: "En avant!"

Then came the imitation of a gunner hanging on his gun as the gun-
carriage went bumping over the dead, the sappers and petrole
brigade coming on behind, ready to spray and fire the field, shouting:
"Allez aux enfers, beaux gars de Prusse, et y attendre votre kaiser!"

It was all so humorous that one was shocked into laughter by the
meeting of the comic and the awful. I laughed first and shuddered
afterward. But we do that a great deal these days.

I don't think I told you that I had found a wonderful woman to help me
one day in the week in the garden. Her name is Louise, and she was
born in the commune, and has worked in the fields since she was
nine years old. She is a great character, and she is handsome--very
tall and so straight--thirty-three, married, with three children,--never
been sick in her life. She is a brave, gay thing, and I simply love to
see her striding along the garden paths, with her head in the air,
walking on her long legs and carrying her body as steadily as though
she had a bucket of water on her head. It is beautiful.

Well, Louise has a brother named Joseph, as handsome as she is,
and bigger. Joseph is in the heavy artillery, holding