nds. I have seen so many, old and new-made, ladies
and gentlemen. I have run around in civilian clothes--my uniform went
to the cleaner's--and have gone to the theatre and dined in
restaurants and listened to orchestras, dodged taxis and ridden in
them, gone to bed late, spent some money,--in short, have done all the
things I ordinarily avoid doing.

In Paris you see more Americans then French, and more American women
than men, all in assorted uniforms. They certainly have brought a mob
of women over here! and now they are trying to ship them home as fast
as possible. The Y.M.C.A. is sending workers, men and women, home at
the rate of several hundred a week.

They have given me a reassignment. Yesterday I came to Chaumont where
G.H.Q. is stationed, and I shall be sent out from here--somewhere, to
do--something. At present I don't know anything about it. Meanwhile I
am most comfortably lodged in the Y.W.C.A. Hostess House, a large and
beautiful chateau with lovely grounds. I am now sitting on an old
stone wall on the hillside which I came upon after following a shady
path. Beside me are bushes drooping with white and purple lilacs, all
about me birds are warbling, and beyond and below is a panorama of
sunny France through which runs a white road where American trucks go
thundering by in clouds of dust. And it is all very lazy and hazy
and--satisfactory. For I don't seem to be thinking beyond. One doesn't
when one is "militaire." One gives oneself up to the powers above. No
one doesn't, either! Not at critical moments. One can steer and
veer--gently.

Now it begins to look as though the work of the Y.M.C.A. were nearly
over. No more personnel is allowed in Germany, the army of occupation
being fully equipped, and if there is nothing to do, one ought to go
home. If, after the signing of the Peace, it seems necessary to keep
our army over here some time, I shall make an effort to be sent to the
Rhine. Wherever our boys are waiting, and getting disgusted, I want to
be.

It is likely that a good friend of mine, a Lieutenant of Co. F may
come to see you. I asked him to, as he lives near Chicago. He is a
fine fellow and has been so kind to me. I think he would enjoy our
home. I can see the garden and everything, and sometimes--I wish I
were there.

Chaumont, June 11th, 1919.

Again I sit in the garden of the chateau, but what a world of things I
have seen and done since I last wrote y